19 years as an expat

Today, I have not done very much. Today is my eldest's 17th birthday as well as the 19th anniversary of me arriving to live in the North East of England -- permanently.
It is one of those odd coincidences that was pointed out to me when I was in hospital after giving. I had to show my passport for some reason.
The weather in Newcastle 19 years ago was sunny with a few clouds. My first glimpse of Newcastle with its green fields and red brick buildings was so much than I had antcipated. Having spent the summer reading Catherine Cookson, I was expecting smoke hung streets, unrelieved gloom. We walked through Jesmond Dene to an Italian restaurant that my dh knew about and had a very pleasant meal before walking back to our ground floor flat.
The weather in Hexham 17 years ago was pleasant but grey.I woke early and we went for a walk. The hospital decided the time had come and the consultant did not had much to do that afternoon, so I had a c-section. My dh, not realising they would wait for him, drove very quickly over from Durham. Anyway, the operation went well.
I was very intrigued by Indian history at that time and spent the night reading a biography of Ghandi. For some reason I had forgotten a book and this was the first book my dh picked up. It was fairly dry but it kept me company through the night. Unfortunately, my son slept! Something that did not really happen again for a number of years.
With the celebrations of 60 years of India, a number of very good books have been published. One of them -- Alex Von Tunzelmann's Indian Summer is a thoroughly engrossing read. Von Tunzelmann has an excellent eye for the telling anecdote. For example the Nizam of Hyderabad who acquired a reputation as a miser. People thought he used a crumple piece of newspaper as a paperweight, little suspecting it was the legendary Jacob diamond -- twice the size of the Koh-i-noor. Or Sita Devi, India's Walis Simpson who made away to Switzerland with the Baroda pearl carpet. I love the way she contrasts the state of the British and Indian societies in 1577. It is really an eye opener. Her hypothesiss of events makes sense and I think she has the makings of a great popular historian. Think Tom Holland.

Janet MacLeod Trotter's Book Launch

Yesterday evening, my daughter, Anna Lucia and I braved the wet North East weather and went to Janet MacLeod Trotter's book launch for A Handful of Stars.

Jan's book is set in 1931 Newcastle and looks at fascism in the North East. She wrote the book because she felt compelled to. She wanted to explore the problems and to show that on the eve of World War II, life was not so simple. People were not universally opposed to Hitler -- something that Jan once argued with her agent about. There would have been Quislings in Britain's midst just as there were in Norway's. As dreadful and awful as that may seem to us now.

Her book follows the trials and tribulations of Clara Magee as she battles poverty, her family and eventually finds true happiness.

Jan as ever has crafted a fine novel and one that creates an authentic Newcastle. She is a worthy heir to Catherine Cookson.

The book launch was very well attended. Not a spare seat and the books appeared to be selling very briskly after the short speech and the readings.

there was also a chance for a quick gossip with some of the other RNA Northumberland writers. Jen Black had just returned and so did not have much to add on the Triskelion situation. the best place to read about it is Dear Author or Smart Bitches. It does go to show that the world of publishing is never dull.

A good time was had by all.

My TV interview thing has been postponed until tomorrow -- so hopefully the rain will have stopped. My wip continues and I can see the end. Always a good sign.

Garden visiting

Today I took a small break from revisions. Actually it was in between drafts and so it is good to get my brain clear. We drove up to a friend's house in the Scottish borders. They were opening it for charity.

I was always envious of their old garden, but their new garden is absolutely glorious. 10 acres covered in a riot of azaleas, rhododendrons and other acid loving plants. They are right on the river Annan and the weather is just slightly more mild. Thus many things were slightly further on. Purple alliums vied with pink oriental poppies to create a carpet of colour. In the evenings, otters play in the upper pond. Unfortunately the house was built in 1863. An admiral and shipping magnate had it built so he could watch the water. And so I could not really used it for research purposes but it was one of those hidden gems that made me -- yes this is what Britain is supposed to be like.

Because of the scale of the garden, I couldn't be envious. All I could do was enjoy.

Now is the time of year to go garden visiting. The spring bulbs may be over, but the rhododendrons, azaleas and roses are just coming into bloom. By visiting the private gardens open for charity, it gives one a chance to snoop around and think about settings. When we lived in our old village, the annual garden open day was affectionately known as the garden snoop around. And there is one house -- the Newbrough Park that I still need to find a story for. It just is. And the owner of Newbrough Park during the Regency period has a life story that read like a Catherine Cookson novel -- illegitimate, abandoned on her father's doorstep, her grandmother insisted that she be brought up properly as the father had seduced a gentlewoman. She never married and became one of the largest landowners in the North East. Equally Nunwick Hall near is fascinating with its hostas growing in the ruins of the convent.

So do yourself a favour -- visit a garden today.

Anyway, the final edits of my Viking are calling. Hopefully my editors will like what I have done.