Category Fiction
Round about now I’d ordinarily be spending a day with my mum, mooching around the good shops of Cardiff or Swansea. I say ‘mooching’; to be honest, you’d find me collapsed in the doorway of the fourth shop reached, weakly… Continue Reading →
Finally, permission to do nothing. Well, my version of doing nothing, which is to spend more hours each week than I can usually spare in a month reading books. Lockdown has found me in the garden, warm under the sun… Continue Reading →
I close the year as I start it, blogging about books. It seems fitting to come full circle (bookending the year, if you will) because I haven’t really got anywhere in 2018. I mean, I’ve gone lots of places, seeking… Continue Reading →
Jane Austen’s on the new £10 note (hooray!) , which got me asking online: what’s your favourite Austen novel? Unsurprisingly, the consensus was Pride and Prejudice, although the wonderfully witty Emma was also named (thankfully no one proposed Northanger Abbey;… Continue Reading →
It’s confession time and I’m about to lose friends. I don’t leave home without one, I’m lucky enough to write them, but now, in a book ‘first’, I throw one in the bin. Yep, Caitlin Moran’s How to Build a… Continue Reading →
I’m sitting in front of 40 or so people talking about old, bobbly pants. Speaking in public isn’t up there amongst my favourite things to do and the fact the subject is pants doesn’t spare my blushes. But at least… Continue Reading →
