One Fine English Pound and Fourteen English Pennies

Here’s an odd thing. A nice thing, but an odd thing. Yesterday evening, His Lordship Malarkey announced, ‘Lulu (a self-publishing company we’ve used in the past) has sent me £1.14 in royalties. It seems that someone in America bought two copies of ‘A Christmas Malarkey’ almost a year ago.’

Well, how strange! My writing and Andy’s illustrations have earned us £1.14 this year. I almost went crazy and bought a first class stamp with it, but reined myself back and didn’t. Serious investment is to be considered regarding the use of this unexpected wealth…

However, it does give one a little teeny glow of a thrill to know that two copies of one’s book have sold. I get these little signposts every now and again, to encourage me with my writing career. I’m not sure from where the purchases were made because the only one of my books currently available on Amazon is this…

…and even then I don’t know quite how it’s still there - we published it in 2010 - unless my publicist, Lord Malarkey, put it on there as a digital download (£1.99 - absolute bargain for an absolute hoot). The write up also suggests it is for 6 - 12 year olds. Now, I wrote the thing and yes, it is suitable for that group. Ish. I mean, there’s no swearing or indecency. Nothing to offend, as far as I think, but who knows in these crazy days of 21st century wokery? But there are a few double entendres. It’s what I would describe as ‘pantomime in written form.’ Something for all the family. Jokes that adults will get but children won’t. Or shouldn’t.

With Heather and Ollie moving out this weekend I shall be able to move back into my office. They have been using it as an additional storage space for their bits and bobs as their bedroom is a bit of a squish. Oh, the joys of Victorian cottage living! And I’m going to revamp my office space. Rearrange, redesign, redecorate. I’ve decided it has outlived its time as a multi-functional work space for me/ guest room/ crafting room/ minor dumping ground. I shall make it into my Writing Room. Proper.

Comments

The Frosted Dawn Enigma

The decorators are in at the moment. Stairs and landing. Given my previous history of 'Hoo Ha Occurring on Stairs ' - reference the Trapped Under the Sofa Incident and the Foot Wedged Between Bookcase and Stair Rise Debacle - I thought it wise to pay for professionals to decorate the stairs and landing rather than get myself in a mix with ladder and plank combinations and achieve the Magic Three of staircase accidents. The decorators are a father and son combo who go by the names of Craig and David. This automatically causes me entertainment. 'Came in on a Monday, prepped, filled and undercoated, back on Thursday, first top coating, by Friday finishing touches...' Okay, not as frisky or well-scanned as the original song, but you get where I'm coming from. Anyway, before they started the job Craig asked what colour I wanted for the walls. 'Same colour as the downstairs walls, please,' said I. 'Dulux Frosted Dawn.' And then white for ...

Day 1 - Decisions Are Made Beyond the Author's Control.

‘Well,’ I say, looking at the expectant faces gathered around the huge table in the Great Dining Hall of Much Malarkey Manor, ‘I didn’t think it was going to happen this year, but it is!’ There is a sharp intake of breath as everyone wonders of what I speak. I’ve been muttering about all sorts recently, and I’m not talking liquorice here either. ‘The Much Malarkey Manor Annual and Traditional Christmas Story!’ I say, and wait for the expulsed air of relief to settle before I continue. ‘I thought we had done it all. I thought we had covered every Christmas story there was. I’ve been wracking my brains for a full two months now, trying to come up with something we haven’t done before and then it hit me! We haven’t done a version of one of the Great Christmas Films of Yore!’ ‘Your what?’ says Mrs Slocombe, who is more interested in the selection of pastries I have brought to this breakfast meeting, because that is what one does, isn’t it? Eat pastries at breakfast...

Sun Puddles

A few weeks ago, I met up with a dear friend for a meditation and healing afternoon, both of us being light workers on the spirit pathway. It did me good to re-engage in a bit of focused energy channelling (because I have let my practice slip somewhat) and during the afternoon the words ‘sun puddles’ popped into my head. Now, I know this wasn’t my human brain thinking these words because I have never heard the phrase before; when I arrived home, I looked it up and said to myself, ‘Aaah, you mean sun spots!’ This is a sun puddle... ...there! That thing that Flora is lying on. No, not the sofa - the warm patch of sunshine on the sofa. Here are Flora and Bambino sharing a sun puddle... This proves that no matter how much they scrap with each other and try to denude each other of fur all over my rugs, they secretly share a mutual and fond admiration. I think. And here is Bambino on a sun puddle that has come to rest on my legs... It’s his casual, ‘I’m so cool’ pose. Metaphorically coo...

Oh, My Days!

Search This Blog