Success!

It's hard to believe that the "big eat" has happened and is well over. It was an unqualified success, even if I say so myself - with a huge sigh of relief. I would upload a photo of the event, but somehow it refuses to be uploaded, so you'll just have to imagine fitting 24 bums on 24 seats around 4 tables in one room. That dining room is bigger than I thought. It was a superb evening with my art students and their partners and I'm so glad I did it, though I'm swearing never to repeat the performance!

It's five days later and the house is back to normal, but I'm still tired and hurting after a fall last night into my pansies - they were in big terracotta pots and it was a hard landing. The bruising I received is interesting to say the least. Today I was planning to start the final read of my latest novel "The Raging Spirit" set on the wild islands of St Kilda a hundred years ago, but I think I might put that on the Tomorrow shelf and sink in front of the tele instead.

One achievement I have made in the last couple of days is to set up a Yahoo Group called "Writers in France" and I already have a lively membership of half a dozen people, with hopes for more. Future plans for the group? Well, I may organise regular meetings and workshops - it's very much a "watch this space" moment.

Watching the proverbial space really sums up my life when you come to think about it. Good, bad and ugly, the space fillers are fascinating and grist to the mill for a writer.

Awaken your talents!

Well, this last weekend the talents of the villages in our immediate area and, in particular, my own art group, were truly awakened and on show during a two-day exhibition.

My pupils made me so proud I was jumping for joy. The work on show was produced only since January when I decided to challenge them with the theme of Wildlife, my own specialty. They all looked shocked at the time and claimed that they couldn't possibly draw or paint animals. However, with a little help from "teacher" they ended up by producing some pretty good work and really enjoyed it. You'll see my work in the centre, surrounded by that of my pupils.

I'm planning something entirely different for the new term that starts on the 22nd April, and then, after a break in July and August, I'll be thinking of what I can do to accompany the local children's Christmas fête - all proceeds going toward supporting the school in our village. Last year I managed to raise 170 euros with a mini-boot-sale and the school spent it on an outing and art materials.

What am I planning for the 24th April - I'm turning my house into a small retaurant and catering for a sit-down dinner for my pupils and their partners - 24 places! It will be interesting to see if I can fit them all in our large dining room, but there is also a large hall to overflow into. And please don't let me burn anything!

Writer's Nightmare

Yes, it happens to all of us writers...and artists. The kind of thing we all dread. Injury. Last year I injured the middle finger of my right hand while doing "keep-fit"! I'm right-handed, so it not only affected my work, it stopped it for weeks. The finger is still giving me bother, but I try to ignore in in the hope that it will go away. Yesterday, I attempted to clean up the patio because I'm expecting to host a group of charity cyclists coming to see my art workshop and gallery. We'd had a lot of rain recently and one of the bigger pots was overflowing with water. I decided to tip it up to emty out the surplus, but it was too heavy and went too far and - aie! You guessed it. One very pulled and painful muscle in my right arm and I'm already struggling to meet both writing and painting deadlines.

Today the weather is mixed, wind, rain, sun, cloud, some thunder. Hopefully it will be warm and sunny tomorrow for the cyclists who are expected to come chez moi. Speaking of which - chez moi that is - I suppose I should put up a photo or two so you can picture the place as I speak about it. Don't expect miracles. Technology and I aren't on good speaking terms. Anyway, I'll have a go and see what happens.

A day in the life of a writer

Let's face it, writers are just people, even if they do disappear into an imaginary world so many hours a day. They are not ordinary people, but they still have to do ordinary things. Well, at least they do if they are female! Male writers, in general, can get their heads down and plod on with the hopeful best-seller without interruption. Female writers, unless they are earning mega-bucks, pounds or euros, still have to stop to make the coffee and the meals, do the washing and the ironing and the cleaning, go shopping, walk the dog, see to the children and talk to the next door neighbour because there's nothing worth watching on the tele and the woman is bored.

Out of all the above the only thing I don't have are children. I used to cry over that lack in my life, but now I'm too old to get emotional about it, though I do still harbour the odd regret, especially around Christmas time.

All writers have their own way of working, the way it works for them. I'm not at all consistent these days, although I used to write from ten in the morning till almost midnight for a few years until the fuses blew and my body told me that I'd overdone it. Never again, though even now, once the words are flowing I can keep going for hours on end, with short breaks for sustenance an a caffeine fix with "Murder She Wrote". When I grow up I want to be Jessica Fletcher!

Today, however, has not been a normal day in my life. It started with the usual chaos at around eight o'clock when my two dogs, Candy and Toby, had their little war of the canines between telling me it was time they had their breakfast. That was followed by me trying to sort them out, have my own breakfast and tidy up the house, which should have been done yesterday, but I got sidetracked by my painting of an African elephant! This morning we were expecting a visit from a local insurance man to look at our insurances and see if he could offer us lower premiums than we were already paying. I spent two and a half hours with him and my husband, who doesn't speak French, translating, explaining, searching for papers up and downstairs. Toby the 7 month old puppy tried to eat up the insurance man's documents, then ran off with one of my documents and I threw a cup of coffee over myself. Giles, the insurance man, thought it was all very entertaining. He must think we English are completely mad.

We grabbed a quick sandwich for a late lunch and I was just settling down to work when a couple of strangers knocked on the door asking for details of my art class for the wife and French lessons for the husband.

I've managed to take young Toby for a short walk to get rid of a bit of manic energy and it's now 4.45 pm - and do you know, I couldn't write a word if you paid me! I'd go and put a few brush strokes on my elephant painting, but it's gone all stormy outside and the light is too poor to work in my "atelier", which is our old camping car converted into a mini-studio. I think I'll just have a stiff drink, put my feet up, do a bit of therapeutic knitting and watch one of my "Friends" DVDs. Tomorrow is a new day, no?