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Embassy Gala Dinner

13 June 2013 12:00AM

 

 

So I was fortunate to enjoy fabulous food and great company at the Mexican Embassy in London this time last week, and it makes me so grateful for my blessed life and how we should always remember those less fortunate than ourselves.

I am reminded of the two homeless people that I fed on the streets of Manhattan last week. I bought Isabel a coffee and food, and chatted with her about the last seven years which she had spent sleeping on the streets – apart from the occasional time when she had been able to stay at the women’s refuge – she said she felt blessed by my kindness and the meagre snack that I had bought her. ‘I thank God every day for taking care of me, and giving me everything I need,’ she whispered.

So for those of you reading this blog on WordPress meet Isabel and Robbie. Yes I took photos of them, with their permission. Isabel asked me to pray for her because she wanted God to make her life purposeful and do something worthwhile to help others. Oh my gosh, did this woman inspire me? Having listened to her life story I found myself praying for her to find her long lost sons, and ultimately find a home and an income and…and …and…yes, we prayed for a miracle. She was so excited when I explained to her that I was going to blog about her, having first explained the meaning of a blog.

It is interesting how many people scrat around for food, my burden being for the kids of course. Then we see such ridiculous waste in the world. I wandered into the Waldorf Astoria and accidently found myself amidst the wedding preparations of ? You’ll find that one out soon enough;Hello Magazine apparently. The flowers alone would have cost thousands of dollars. How I would love to have seen that money going to the ‘Feed New York’ campaign. Yes one’s wedding day is important, but my point is the ridiculous divide between rich and poor. I wonder how many sandwiches that would have provided for hungry kids?

So, I do what I can to help others and I’m not puffing me up, I just care!!!!!!!!! And do what I can…

You know, we can all do something, no matter how little.

God Bless

Anna

Life after BEA

11 June 2013 10:36AM

 

For those of you who don’t know, BEA is simply another name for BOOKEXPO AMERICA, one of the biggest book fairs in the world and certainly the biggest and most acclaimed in North America. I did visit in 2007 but, as it has now been six years I was somewhat excited about returning to New York again. More than anything else I wanted to visit the prestigious Times Square Church which is doing amazing work on the streets of the city with the homeless and addicts etc. and has now launched its, ‘Feed New York’ programme. Will tell you all about that experience later, meanwhile gone are the days of course when I could afford up-grades, so economy it was with American Airlines. Although I have no complaints about the service, for once in my life I was really glad for my tiny stature. So just a tip, don’t ever fly with them without paying for extra leg room, even I won’t attempt that again!
On my return to the U.K. – and I have to say I arrived in Yorkshire to the most glorious of sunshine – a quick turnaround…. Uhm! My life is one quick turnaround…. and whilst celebrating my friend’s birthday in a local restaurant…. I was just about able to fight off the jet lag, socialise with a great group of girls and, reiterate the fact that life begins at 50. The lovely couple on the next table – the lady who was extremely attractive and well-dressed – laughed at our joyous chatter, and insisted that life truly begins at 70! So on that note with so many things to look forward to, much to do and not enough hours in the day, I will check my bucket list for 2013 and see what I am able to mark off as accomplished – the fact of the matter being that for everything I do tick off, I add at least another 3 things yet to do.

So, birthday celebrated, a few hours in the office to tackle the mound of paperwork and on the train to London, still not fully recovered from my New York trip. Or should I say, not having had time to digest the effects of the trip, but then life is for living isn’t it? And when I know it’s time to take a few days relaxation, to be still and quiet, no doubt I will. Meanwhile, I couldn’t miss the opportunity to dine at the residence of His Excellency, the Mexican Ambassador in the UK and, enjoy the culinary delights of the Mexican Chef, Angeles Ayala, now could I?

How do I seem to network thus? I really don’t know the answer to that one! Just a few days ago I was sitting on the sidewalk, sipping vanilla latte and chatting to the homeless in Manhattan, having spent a couple of days at BOOKEXPO, the primary reason for the trip. But I returned with far more on my mind than books! So putting business aside, what do I want to say about the trip as a whole? Apart from the fact that whilst the Author Breakfast was appalling and so disgustingly overpriced – a mere coffee and a bun! It was entertaining and informative, with speakers who had achieved much in the field of children’s literature, that said, net- working, I did plenty. New business contacts may be. Vision for the future, ever growing…yes I will exhibit at next year’s BOOKEXPO.

Ok so back to the Embassy dinner, what was on the menu? Full details and menu on the next blog, but here is my favourite picture from Manhattan – the view from my bedroom window.

Whoop whoop!

Anna

 

Youth

21 May 2013 07:00PM

 

 

I have just said good bye to someone that I know I am not going to see again and, I felt a smack of sadness and grief because I know that a huge chapter of my life is over. Did they know they wouldn’t see me again, maybe not, but I knew. So, I’m moving on, and as one door closes, another opens. Having said that, I’m not sure what’s next. We’ve all been there at different times in our lives and it makes me think of that lovely song, ‘Between Trapezes,’ by the singer- song writer Lara Martin. So aptly written, the words focus on those times in our lives when we have to let go of things to make room for the new, but stepping out of that comfort zone into the unknown is never easy.

So, everything has its season, appointed time and such.  Life moves on…Getting older yes. Who isn’t? But then we should consider our good fortune when we think of the news this past couple of days and the tragic deaths in Oklahoma, especially those of children. We all need to treasure our memories and embrace those around us with fondness, because we have no idea when we will have to say those goodbyes.

It’s hard to believe that nearly half of 2013 has gone already and time does seem to be speeding ahead .Is that something we over 50s feel or are you younger ones stunned as well at the rate this year is hurtling forward? Sometimes I fleetingly wish I was younger and I understand what my granny meant when she came out with expressions like, ‘I wish I was younger, and know all that I know now.’ Oh what it is to have wisdom and experience, to have lived and loved, to be mature and wise.  And sometimes I have to question who is the younger anyway, ‘cos I’m still charging around doing a hundred and one things when my kids get caught napping after dinner. What’s that all about?

So should we wish we were younger? Never

Should we banish those words from our vocabulary, I’m too old for that? Yes, don’t you dare say that!  And don’t get caught saying, ‘they didn’t do that in my day,’ either ‘cos it’s still your day! You are here aren’t you?

Don’t feel miserable about getting older, embrace life to the full and if you’re like me you will probably be busier than you’ve ever been. If not, get clued –up and connected. Then get busy. There’s plenty to do out there, so just re discover those gifts and talents that are hidden away and make use of them.

 

Chat soon

Anna

Champagne

15 May 2013 11:00PM

 

 

Don’t ask me why I decided to blog about champagne, other than I thought it might be of interest to some of you girlies out there. 

Having just spent most of the day sorting out problems – or looking on the positive side, obstacles waiting to be overcome – I then tuned into Sky TV to listen to nothing but bad news so, I decided to pour myself a refreshing martini and lemonade and relax with the local paper.

Now I’m not a champagne drinker myself but scanning the paper for good news I read about the British woman who had launched a sugar free, low calorie champagne. Do I care? Not really, but someone might. Now I never really liked the stuff, and always thought it was overrated. I certainly couldn’t understand why people were willing to pay such extortionate prices for it. Do I sound a bore? Whatever, that’s my opinion.  Anyway, apparently the ex- showbiz reporter was afraid she was gaining too much weight due to the excessive amount of champagne that she consumed at VIP parties. What, couldn’t she say No?

Well seemingly she left her job as a journalist, moved to France, and began studying on a one year wine course with an elite cookery school, followed by a period of research in the champagne region of the north-east.

She has now been instrumental in the development of a  ‘zero dosage’ champagne, which basically means that sugar has not been added during manufacturing, unlike traditional champagne. The calorific value in a glass of this champagne is significantly less than those found in most glasses of sparkling wine.

Some restaurants in the UK have now agreed to stock the champagne. Will it be a best-seller? Let’s wait and see.

I fancy another martini and I’m going to work on my next book. Will it be a best seller? Let’s see.

Chat soon

Anna

 

http://www.standard.co.uk/news/london/sugar-free-champagne-off-to-flying-start-8561249.html

Tomorrow

 

I’m in Spain again for a few days. A last minute decision, an unexpected surprise, and although this turned out to be a fruitful trip, the weather could have been a bit kinder. I have not seen any sunshine yet and I’m fed up with this rain. In fact, I can’t remember when I last had such awful weather in Spain. It is cold and damp and, as I type this blog, the thunderous applaud above just startled me so much that I had to go outside and see if everything around me was still standing. The dogs on the local farm are clearly not happy; the evidence of which, the dog’s chorus, the heavy rain pounding down on the rooftops, and the flashes of lightening and jolts of thunder, leave me just slightly home sick. Let’s just hope the power doesn’t go off again, a common occurrence in these parts, not to mention the roads are not ‘proper’ roads but country lanes, so there will be a fine mud bath when I dare to venture out. Strange how we soon get out of our comfort zone, but yes, take me back to Yorkshire please.

As I seem to be commuting more and more these days in many ways the timing was perfect as I dropped on some amazingly cheap flights. Wish I could do that more often!

I managed to fit in some social time as well as attend several business meetings, the trip beginning last Friday with a good old English breakfast on the coast, whilst listening to the music of Dave Bilbrough, the guy who wrote the song Abba Father, which heralded him into an almost instant global success. Now with over three decades in Christian music and several albums later, he is recognised as one of the Britain’s foremost Christian song writers. It was great to meet both him and his wife and listen to his story about his music career and his faith walk with Jesus.

I then went on to spend the rest of the day listening to Spanish gypsy music in a local tavern in an area about 35 minutes’ drive from the coast where, British ex-pats are still having trouble with the aftermath of illegal building. A good friend of mine appears to be one of the victims and is waiting for news as a local ex-Mayor was recently imprisoned and heavy fines imposed on the presiding council.  The Judge ordered the demolition of the properties, regardless of the fact that several contracts exist for the sale and purchase of the houses to third parties. Will this saga ever end and why should these people who put all their life savings into buying a property in Spain, trusting in their advisors and the legal system be penalised, whilst some of the very scoundrels and builders behind the projects seem to have done a runner? My friend now waits with baited breath.

http://www.costa-news.com/costa-almeria-news/item/926-prison-sentence-for-ex-zurgena-mayor

Just prior to leaving for the airport I was in the vicinity of that terrible crash on the M62 near Pontefract, West Yorkshire, involving the Hen party on the minibus. It makes you think about your faith; well it does me, because tomorrow is not guaranteed for any of us, is it?

And I’m moaning about the weather. Get a grip Anna.

http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/4904702/19-women-injured-in-minibus-horror-crash-with-lorry-on-M62.html

 

On that note I have a wedding this weekend which I am looking forward to and, I will be taking my fab little granddaughter who has never ever been to one. She is so excited. Bless!

So best wishes to the bride to be, and my prayers go out for the girls on the mini bus and their families.

Looking forward to seeing my family in a couple of days.

Anna

Self-publishing

 

A few days ago I was asked to speak at a self-help group which is taken by our local church and built on similar principles to Alcoholics Anonymous. We watched a short video entitled ‘Hope’ and one thing that we can’t deny is that without hope we would all perish. Although I can’t say that I have ever turned to drink or drugs, I have had to overcome plenty of obstacles and jump lots of painful hurdles in my life. But I have survived and keep going, in spite of life’s adversities.

Sometimes it’s good to share our experiences, to encourage others and, it’s also a great boost ourselves as we look back and realize what we have achieved. Very few people will go through life without suffering or hurting in some way, and it’s how we cope with that, and what we learn from it, that dictates our future. Obviously we can’t change the past but what we can do is make a positive decision not to let it affect or hinder our future.

Sounds easy, of course it isn’t. Life is hard but a positive attitude, a fighting spirit and a little faith makes all the difference.

Two of the questions that I was asked this week were;-‘ Why did you go to Mexico and what prompted you to self-publish?’

I think the question as to why I went to Mexico has been answered on lots of occasions and a quick look at the web site http://www.chavos.org  gives some insight into that.

Meanwhile, with regard to the self-publishing, well that’s a good question. But my first response is that I didn’t just simply self-publish, I actually set up my own publishing company which is quite different. The Chavos books are fiction based on fact and the idea was birthed as a result of my continuing visits to Mexico City. It has always been both my vision and intention to support work with street children and ultimately finance a children’s home/rescue centre for the very young. I have no doubt been given a heart for the abandoned babies, of which there are plenty. Why did I set up my own publishing company when I knew nothing about publishing? The answer is, I felt led to do so. What does that mean? I believe God put it on my heart. You don’t believe in God. Well you will have to read the book that I am going to write – title to be released – shortly, but it is basically about my life. You may just change your mind.

Meanwhile, I am learning about publishing and my intention is to concentrate on children’s books, developing my own Chavos Brand and helping other writers of children’s fiction to get published. It compliments everything else that I do in my life.

Am I happy? Oh yes! Do I have vision? Oh yes! Do I still have problems and **** in my life, of course. But determination and a little bit of faith keeps me moving forward.

So, to answer the second question.  I published;-

1)            To maximise profits and secure a quicker return.

2)            To control my vision and exercise my own creativity.

3)            To retain the freedom of copyright, no restricting contracts, competing clauses etc. 

4)            Dead-lines set by me and not another person.

5)            As an author is expected to do all the hard work and market and promote their book(s)  I didn’t see the advantage to do just that, and then take a lesser cut of those profits simply to line someone else’s  pocket.

6)            And there are lots more reasons which I haven’t time to go into now!

What am I going to do with ALL my profits? You guessed it. Feed them into my charity work with children.

I could ramble on for ages this morning but, having just typed up one blog and it corrupted leaving me with no option but to type it again, I now have to sign off and do a mad dash to fit dozens of tasks into a short time slot. Do you ever look back and feel as though you have lived a lifetime in a few weeks? Of course you do! Those seasons sure are strange, and something tells me I have done plenty of planting and I’m just about to see a harvest. Oh my gosh!

Chat soon. Have a nice day.

Anna

Childhood memories – My friend Dee

Childhood memories – My friend Dee

‘Why can’t I be the teacher?’ I asked, brushing away the little blonde kiss curl from my forehead which irritated me so.

Mum had moaned about my hair needing a trim. She was right. She was always right.
She snapped. Not mum, my friend Dee. My lip curled – a habit that had formed in my early childhood from having a nervous disposition. Sometimes I sucked my thumb, but I didn’t today. Dee would tease me like she often did. It was a strange friendship but mum had told me to be nice to her. I’d promised, and couldn’t break a promise. Could I?

But it’s not fair I thought, as she ushered me once again to sit down at the desk I had learnt to hate so much. I picked up the pink polka dot pen that she handed me, but of course I had to give it back. Shame, ‘cos I loved that chubby little pen. She gave me a sheet of lemon paper from her rather fancy writing case. I should have felt privileged because she didn’t usually share her coloured paper, even though she allowed me to borrow her pink polka dot pen. No logic!

I trembled. Took a deep breath and then boldly snapped. ‘NO! I won’t. It’s not fair. It’s mean. I don’t want to play anymore.’ I dared to slam her precious chubby pink pen down onto the desk and jumped to my feet.

She looked at me aghast, and then her expression changed to one of furiosity. Is there such a word? Well she was cross with me. She was taller than me, chunkier and stronger. I stared back at her trembling all the more. But we always played by her rules. I knew she would tell her dad that I wouldn’t accommodate her ideas. She was a daddy’s girl for sure. He always listened to her. She could do no wrong in his eyes. He would say I was mean, but then he wouldn’t understand would he? He only knew her side of the story. So I ran home. I passed the new houses and went down the cobbled lane. The kids called it a snicket but my mum called it a cobbled lane. She hated me to use Yorkshire slang like the other kids, and I wasn’t supposed to go down the lane. It was lonely and quiet.

‘Continue past the new houses and follow the main road to the corner shop,’ mum would say. ‘Then turn right into Browndale Avenue. It’s further to go but it’s safer. Go past Mrs Higginbottom’s house, the twin’s house, and the house with all the garden gnomes.’

It was always safe that way she would say. ‘Plenty of people around! And don’t talk to that man who hands out toffees,’ she urged. ‘Strange man, he is.’

So mum insisted that I never take the cobbled lane. She was always right, wasn’t she? It’s so annoying when your mum is always right. But I wanted to get home quickly, so this time I ignored her advice and took the short cut. It would be all right if I walked quickly. Wouldn’t it?

Actually I ran. Then I saw the bully boys, Stuart and Tony Smithson. They were hovering in the lane looking r-e-a-l-l-y menacing. So I ran faster. They so scared me.

My heart was pounding so fast and furiously it felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. Then the palms of my hands went all sweaty and I felt I couldn’t breathe. Oh No! Please God. Don’t let this bring on my asthma I mumbled under my breath.

There, I made it into the avenue. Relief! Safety! Next time I would listen to mum.

Some of the younger kids who lived in the avenue were out playing and having fun. They had coloured chalk and had drawn a hop scotch on the path. The older girls were skipping and fooling around. I stopped for a few minutes to watch them. They shouted me over to join in, but I just wanted to go home. Dee was cross with me and Stuart and Tony scared me. Besides, someone shouted that it was nearly time for Dr Who and I certainly couldn’t miss that. It was my favourite programme of all time.

Why did I ever want to play teachers anyway? Actually I didn’t  I had enough of that at school. Dee was bossy and mean. I decided I didn’t care what her parents said, or my mum. I wasn’t going to play with her again. That was that!

My brother was at home with his best friends, Rob and Jamie. The three of them were always hanging out together. We all shared crumpets and sliced banana ‘cos my brother kept moaning about being hungry and said he couldn’t wait for his evening meal. It was deliciously scrummy. Lots of melted butter.

‘Sausages and mash later when dad gets home,’ mum said looking at me anxiously – as if to say, don’t you dare eat another crumpet. ‘You kids better eat your dinner later!’
She smiled at us, that loving mumsy sort of smile. I said nothing and just returned the smile.

Then mum ushered us all into the conservatory and put on the TV. ‘Dad will be tired when he gets in,’ she whispered. ‘He’s worked seven long days this week, and no rest.’

‘Yes mum.’ I got the hidden message – I knew how hard they both worked to send us to that school.

‘Education is so important,’ they insisted. Of course Great Auntie Minnie had instigated it. She left the money to pay the fees for the first 2 years when she died. She made mum promise to use the money for our education. Shame she had to die, but then we all go eventually, don’t we? Some before others, obviously!

How I loved playing at her house, especially when she allowed me to empty the shoe cupboard and count and sort. Yes, shoe shops and dressing up was the best game ever. Dear Auntie Minnie, her house was full of interesting stuff. Mum said she never threw anything out and had lots of antiques and family heirlooms in the loft. I never did get to go in the loft.

I was just thinking about Auntie Minnie ‘cos there was this old woman in Dr Who and she reminded me of her, and then there was this loud knock on the door. It was a bang actually and just in the middle of a scary bit when the Dr was about to get killed. He didn’t get killed of course but we had to wait till the following week to find that out ‘cos the programme ended with an irritating cliff-hanger. Meanwhile I jumped.

‘It’s the window cleaner collecting the money I suppose,’ mum shouted. ‘He always comes at this time on Tuesdays. First Tuesday of the month. But he really shouldn’t bang like that.’

‘Mum, its Monday,’ I shouted. ‘Dr Who night. Monday!’

She popped her head round the door and looked at me curiously. My brother jumped to his feet and went to see who was knocking.

‘Who’s there?’ mum shouted. ‘Is it the window cleaner?’
She obviously hadn’t been listening to me. It was Dr Who night. Monday!

‘It’s Mr Dennington.’ Michael called out. That’s my brother’s name. He had seen the grey haired distinguished looking man through the spy hole and recognised him. Since mum had arranged for the joiners to put the spy hole in the door we always knew who was there. She was spooked when the neighbours were once burgled and made a few changes to the house. She said as Dad worked so much she wanted some extra security. Michael tried to convince her that getting a dog would be the answer but she was having none of it. Actually mum didn’t really want pets because she said they were hard work and she had never been the same since that time we persuaded her to let us have gerbils and they ate their babies. I found the mother gerbil sitting holding…..oh never mind…it was gross!

Michael called out again. ‘It’s Mr Dennington mum.’

My brother politely let him in. Mum went to welcome him.

Oh my gosh. I’m in trouble, I thought, as I listened from behind the kitchen door whilst they talked.

‘Well I’m very sorry Mr Dennington if you thought my daughter was mean,’ mum said. ‘I will speak to her about it right away.’

I heard his footsteps walking away. I ran to the window and peered from behind the heavy velvet curtains. Mum loved them but, dad said they were old fashioned. So what! Mr Dennington was gone. Good. Then I saw dad walking down the path, he just missed Mr Dennington and mum instinctively knew he was on his way because she started rushing around putting out the dinner. She had done a quick change – she always put a pretty dress on when dad was due home. Then she called us to the table – after she insisted we wash our hands of course and told my brother’s friends politely they would have to leave. We ate without chattering too much. We had been for warned. I really was full of crumpet and banana so I sneaked Michael my sausage. Then dad asked. ‘What did you do today?’

I waited with baited breath. Unexpectedly the phone rang. Distraction, good! Mum was gone for ages. Nan was poorly and for the next few days mum was busier than ever charging about looking after her. Doctors’ appointments, collecting prescriptions and all that stuff.

I didn’t see Mr Dennington. I didn’t see Dee at school either.

A couple of weeks passed and everyone was busy, until suddenly out of the blue – mum asked. ‘Why don’t you go play with Dee? She’s home again.’

‘Home? Why? Where has she been?’ I asked. ‘Some exotic holiday place I expect. Her family have pots of money.’

‘No she has not been on holiday.’ said mum. ‘And I don’t think they have pots of money. Why did you say that?’

‘Oh! Just the way she talks at school. Like getting everything she wants. I don’t want to play with her anyway. Where’s she been then?’ I asked.

‘The hospital,’ mum whispered, as though someone was listening and she was going to tell me the biggest secret ever. ‘That’s why I asked you to play nicely with her. And I forgot to mention that on the day you ran off she was very distraught. Her father called to see me as he was going to take you both to the movies, but he said you had been mean to her.’

‘Mum, I was never mean to her.’ I hesitated. ‘But she was mean to me. She was bossy. She always wanted to play teachers. She had a new desk and chair. She was always the teacher and . . .’ I didn’t get to say anymore.

Mum had a strange look on her face. ‘I told you to try and play nicely. I told you she was sick.’

‘Yes mum, but I was sick of her being the teacher.’
Mum smiled that mumsy smile again. ‘Well maybe you could play with her just one more time.’

‘One more time.’ I asked. ‘What does that mean?’

‘One more time, before she goes back to hospital.’

I didn’t want to argue with mum, I went to my room to change out of my school uniform.

It was Friday and school holidays next week so no homework. Yippee! I wondered why Dee was going into hospital again. Why had she even been into hospital in the first place?

There was a bang on the door. I heard his voice. It was Mr Dennington. Why did he always bang on the door instead of knocking like normal people? He had come to take me to his house to play. That was unexpected. Suddenly it was obvious, mum had rung him. Strange! Why didn’t Dee call?

We walked down the cobbled lane, the one the kids called the snicket. It was lonely and quiet but it was safe with Mr Dennington, wasn’t it?

It was a lovely warm day and I had put on my favourite shorts, this really cool t-shirt and some fashionable sunglasses that nan bought for me for the holidays. I felt special. My brother mad fun of me and said I looked like a diva. Huh!We went through the little side gate into Mr Dennington’s garden.

Mrs Dennington loved gardening. It looked so pretty and colourful with flowers everywhere and a little ornate pond with water-lilies and fish. Dee told me that most of the fish had gone because the ginger cat from next door had eaten them.

There in the corner of the garden was Dee, sitting with her back to me so she didn’t see me arrive. She had her dolls carefully arranged for a picnic with a striped tablecloth in the centre and a miniature tea-set placed neatly in front of each doll. Colouring books and jigsaws were scattered around and there at the bottom of the garden I could see the dreaded school desk and chair. Drrr…

Mr Dennington shouted and Dee spun around with a big smile showing her glistening white teeth. She had a pretty head scarf on with orange and pink polka dots and a huge pair of pink sunglasses to shade her from the rays of the sun. Pink was always her favourite colour. But I reeled with shock, gasped and my mouth fell open. ‘What happened to your arm?’ Ergh! Why did I blurt that out?

I froze to the spot and felt so horribly uncomfortable.

‘Oh. Its ok, they couldn’t fix it. It’s gone,’ she said seeing my awkwardness. ‘My hair is gone too,’ she whispered. ‘Look! See!’ She removed her pretty bright head-scarf. Her golden locks were no more.

‘Dee,’ shouted her mother alarmingly from across the garden. She scurried over to carefully re-cover her daughter’s head and tied a fresh knot in the scarf arranging it suitably.

‘Trendy aye!’ Dee laughed. ‘Thanks for coming to play.’

‘Teachers?’ I asked looking into her eyes feeling somewhat bewildered, but thankfully rediscovering my lost voice which had suddenly gone all squeaky and distorted.

She nodded, and I went and sat on the chair in front of the desk, waiting for her to tell me what to do.

We played. She was happy. She seemed different. Not so bossy. Softer! I accepted and let her be.

It was o.k. Today it was o.k.

‘Shall we play again later this week?’ asked Dee.

‘We’re going to Majorca,’ I blurted out excitedly and then zipped my mouth quickly realising this was not the time to be giddy when there was some seriously horrible thing happening to Dee.

‘I’ve never been on a plane before. Dads been working extra hours so we could all go on holiday and we’re tacking nan.’

‘Wow! I wish I could go on a plane,’ exclaimed Dee. ‘Will you tell me all about it when you get back?’ she asked.

‘Sure,’ I said wondering, if they had pots of money how come she had never been on a plane.

‘But…you have lots of holidays, don’t you?’ I asked.

‘Me? Ooh no! We go away all the time but that’s because we have to look after my gran. She has been poorly for years and we go and stay with her. Last time we went mum did her garden. What a mess that was. Some of the weeds were as big as me. That’s ‘cos it always rains gran said. I have never had a proper holiday or been to the coast.’

‘Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? You’ve got to be joking.’ I mumbled hardly believing my own ears.

‘It’s true,’ replied Dee.

We played until Mr Dennington walked me home. He said Dee looked tired and needed to rest. I dare not ask too many questions. I decided to wait and ask mum later. She would know. Wouldn’t she?

S-o-o-o mum explained and, after my holiday I raced round to see my friend Dee. I took some fudge and some strange looking Spanish sweets that I thought she might like to try.

Mr Dennington answered the door, he didn’t smile. He had a weird expression on his face.

‘I have these for Dee,’ I said holding out my gifts.
Why did Mr Dennington always scare me?

He asked me in and thanked me for the gifts. He said it was very sweet of me. I saw the desk; the chair and all the pretend play stacked away neatly in the corner of the hallway. You know. All the teachers stuff.

‘This is for you,’ he said, showing me a pile of books, pencils and crayons. Then he gave me the pink polka dot chubby pen. ‘Dee thought you may like to play teachers.’

‘But where’s Dee?’ I asked.

He looked sad and didn’t answer. Mrs Dennington came to explain. ‘Dee’s gone’, she whispered.

‘Gone where?’ I asked. ‘We were only away for two weeks and I promised to tell her all about my holiday and I brought these,’ I said pushing the gifts into her hands.

And then I knew. I just knew. I didn’t really hear her say how poorly Dee had been. It had happened suddenly two days after we went to Majorca. Dee’s big brother walked me home. We took the short cut down the snicket. He was thirteen years old. Four years older than Dee. I was safe with him. Wasn’t I?

Dee had the same as Auntie Minnie. Shame she had to die, but then we all go eventually, don’t we? Some before others! But why so young? Why so quick? I didn’t understand.

I started to cry. I wanted my mum. Should I have been a better friend? I will ask mum, I thought. She would know, wouldn’t she? Mums know everything!

Forty five years later and I still remember. How interesting that those memories can be so poignant. The bullying, the friendships and the lessons learned…

Birthdays

Hi everyone

Today is my birthday and a very happy one it will be too! Getting older is purely a state of mind so today I am a year younger, and looking forward to the challenges and adventures that this year will bring.

Last weekend I was in London as you will know if you have been reading my blogs, and it turned out to be a great musical weekend, first with a visit to the Dominion Theatre in the morning to sing along with the Hillsong congregation -quite a contrast from the rest of the week no doubt as the theatre is the home of the musical, ‘We will Rock you’ – then a perfect walk around Hyde Park in the sunshine – and I even tackled one of the speakers at ‘Speaker’s Corner until I couldn’t be bothered – then, ‘West End has Faith,’ at the Actor’s Theatre in Covent Garden. It was an awesome evening and an incredible display of talent from people in such shows as Les Miserable and Godspell.

The evening was the first of its kind and organised by Katy Treharne and David Birch, with proceeds going to various charities including, Thames Reach and TearFund. I am looking forward to the next one, meanwhile this weekend I am at the Theatre Royal Wakefield to see Wakefield Youth Theatre perform ‘I was blown away.’ Let’s see if their talent blows me away.

Meanwhile as it’s my birthday and a time to reflect. I was naturally thinking of some of the years gone by and decided to post one of my short stories. This one, ‘My Friend Dee’ I hope you like it. And yes it is a true story.

Chat soon.

Anna

A Spanish Siesta

Having just spent 2 weeks in Spain and preparing to return to the UK tomorrow, there is sadness in my spirit, but yet eagerness to see what awaits me.

Awh! To be leaving behind the peace and tranquility of my rural setting, heading for  London, what a contrast. But it sure makes life interesting, for which I am most grateful.  I was thinking about the Spanish Siesta yesterday and,  although everywhere still seems to close between the hours of 2-4.30pm, I wonder how many people actually rest during those hours or, in fact race around as we Brits do in our lunch breaks. Do they also have a quick lunch, catch up on all those outstanding chores, and then hurtle back to work?  Do people really take a siesta as they used to in days gone by, I wonder?

Well, I was checking out the idea of the siesta and actually more of us should do it! Apparently a short sleep after lunch can reduce stress, help cardiovascular functions, and improve alertness and memory, according to the Spanish Society of Primary Care Doctors. (SEMERGEN) But, a siesta should take place on a sofa or in a comfortable chair and NOT in bed! The idea of a siesta is a light sleep and not a deep sleep as one might expect if you climbed into bed!

A siesta is only beneficial if it forms part of a regular routine and the ideal length is about 26 minutes, according to research by the American Space Agency, NASA.  Their study confirms that such a siesta can increase our efficiency by about 34%.

Among the most famous people always known to take a siesta were Sir Winston Churchill and Albert Einstein.

That leads me to one conclusion. From now on, should I schedule a siesta into my programme?

Chat soon

Regards

Anna