After having to cancel a planned mini-break in Bruges due to illness, I’m now settling down into near-hibernation mode for the winter, at least in terms of travel. Not that I have travelled much this year, with short breaks in Norfolk and Scotland. Even so, I’m glad to raise my metaphorical drawbridge and spend a few months on my home turf.
Physically, that is.
At the end of every month, I like to invite an author friend onto my blog for a fun conversation about their writing life. This month, I’m pleased to welcome Susan Grossey, author of historical crime fiction, whose career I’ve followed since her debut novel, Fatal Forgery, back in 2013.
Susan specialises in historical cases of financial crime, inspired by her own career. No, she’s not a forger herself! Over to Susan to explain…
Continue reading “In Conversation with Susan Grossey, Author of Historical Crime Fiction”
As someone who makes their living from writing, I often visit places that will fuel the creative part of my brain, such as an art gallery or a museum. So last month I was pleased to spot road signs for the Crafts Alive craft fair at Rodmarton Manor. Run by the Gloucestershire Guild, this event offered a welcome opportunity to visit the private house reputed to be one of the finest Arts and Crafts Movement homes, and I booked a ticket to visit.
Unfortunately, my outing seemed to coincide with monsoon season. As I parked in a muddy field, I was glad I’d had the foresight to bring my ancient polka-dot Cath Kidston raincoat and my favorite umbrella, bought in a French market a decade ago on a school trip with my daughter, and of sentimental value way beyond its 10 Euro price tag. By the time I arrived at the manor house, my feet were afloat inside my shoes, but the rest of me was relatively dry.
I’ve always dreaded the onset of autumn.
As an optimist, I prefer the anticipation of what’s to come, rather than harvest.
Spring is my favorite season, with its bright buds and brilliant blossom. Second best is summer, with long daylight hours always a source of pleasure.
I can even reconcile myself to September for its often bright, crisp days and occasional spell of Indian summer weather. But the arrival of October, with shortening days and falling leaves, has until this year made my spirits sink.
I spent part of the weekend before last observing other people’s reactions to country churches they weren’t familiar with:
Continue reading “New Perspectives on English Country Churches”
