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Well technically I was sitting inside, only it was inside of my conservatory, with the doors wide open.  It is the only place I feel safe enough to sit in a bikini.  So that is where I sat.  With the sun, and the sound of the birds, with planes scratching the sky overhead and the farmer in his tractor on the back field.  Bliss.

I also had a book, it was a bloody exceptional book.  You should go and find a copy (I’m not sure that it’s out yet).  It’s called the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer.  Utterly genius book.

We have psycho puppy.  She’s gone from nice, sweet, sleeping a lot with a bit of play, to complete psycho puppy.  I only left her with R for the day while I went to work, come home and she wants to eat me.  Alive! She has a foot fetish, we’ve had to find her an old sock to chow down on, as she’s content with pinching them off the arm chair.

We built her a little lair, and at some point while R was in the bath, she stole a par of socks from the bathroom, only we didn’t know for another two days.  We found the socks hidden in her lair.  Goodness knows what else she’s going to hide in there. 

So far she’s pulled the towel off the top of the lair and dragged it into the middle of the living room, then promptly trotted off and got the rug from the hall as well, that was only this evening, within half an hour of me getting home. 

We’ve been reassured she’ll grow out of it.  Hmmm.  Let’s just say she’s like a living re-incarnation of Marley.  As I said… psycho dog. We’ve been given instructions to ignore her when she barks, get up and leave her.  I was going to say she was fast asleep… she’s now trying to eat R, her sock abandoned along with the rest of her toys, hand is FAR more tasty.   

Oh dear… Went out and got The Times at lunchtime… ok so it’s still lunchtime.  I’ve read the first part of The Front, the new Patricia Cornwell book, and several things occured to me.  One, I’m begining to wonder if my view of Cornwell, is going the same way as James Patterson, which isn’t a good way to go.  Two.  I wonder if Cornwell learnt anything from the Southern Cross series of books she wrote, namely that they were utter pants.

I know that Cornwell hasn’t been doing too well of late with Scarpetta, I said that earlier, but to go out and write something, that at the outset, is reasonably poor, doesn’t help matters.  Maybe I should just stop reading her works all together.  Kathy Reichs seems to have picked up the mantle, dropped so carelessly by Cornwell.  Not to mention that Reichs is a world renowned Forensic Antrhopologist, experience that is really obvious in her books.

Oh dear, it’s a rather sad state of affairs.

The Times seems to be having a run on Crime Authors this week.  They’re serialising Patricia Cornwell’s new book every day this week (of course the advert on the radio had to be played just as I got to work and not as I was passing a news agents… typical).  So I’ve had a quick read of the interview with Cornwell, which was insightful, if not a little chilling (she really is as cold as I thought she might be).  I will read the book, even though I think that Cornwell has gone down hill since her main protagonist was forced out of her job, making me think that her books had lost the passion that had made them so good to begin with.

Anyway, there is a list of the Top 50 crime authors.  I’m incredibly disappointed.  Only about four people in there who I think should be there, and a whole load of others are missing.  Where is Michael Connelly, John Connolly, Robert Crais, and Lee Child (just to name four who should be there).  Seriously, how can you have Dennis LeHanne, when he hasn’t written a decent book in years!  You put the likes of Harlan Coben (who’s latest book is as good as ever), without any of these modern writers.  Shame on you!

If you want to take a look at the list and get annoyed as much as I have, please click on the link below:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/global/article3773630.ece

As a foot note, what’s particularly interesting is that both Mark Billingham and John Connolly were invited speakers at this year’s Times Oxford Literary Festival… the key thing here being, they’re both celebrated crime authors, and it was a Times event.  Some what hypocritical I feel, but such is life.

UPDATE: Just realised that my install of MT has had a bit of a flip out and for some reason had published this entry, twice with no heading and no footnote.  I have no idea why, it’s a bit stupid really.  Anyway, I’ve deleted the two erronous entries.  So the person who’s just read the post by clicking on the link sent to them in an email… it’s nothing personal, it’s just a mess to have the same entry posted three times. 

I was going to post something about the snow we had this morning… but I’m having *issues* with the photographs… so I’ll post it when I can get the photos down to a size that doesn’t make me look like a complete n00b. 

Instead, I’ll post about the Times Literary Festival which I’ve just been to.  WOW.  I’m going to back track a smidgen first.  I’m not overly awestruck by celebrities, they’re ok and all that but to most it’s a case of “yeah but what have you done?” You ponced around a bit for a few months acting.  It’s great for entertainment but you don’t bowl me over.  When it comes to Authors however, I’m in complete awe.  They’ve spent months writing, creating something out of nothing for thousands of people to enjoy.  Words, on a page, mean something.

So to be in a small gathering of people there to watch John Connolly and Mark Billingham talk about their craft and read excerpts from their books is pretty amazing.  So far to date I’ve met two authors, one, James Patterson, I found so utterly repellent I could no longer read his books for I found them to be as arrogant and pathetic as he was.  The other was a wonderful person, but I just don’t have the desire to read his books, (that was Iain M Banks). 

So I’ve finally met authors who I thought, were brilliant.  That said, I haven’t read anything by Mark Billingham, but having heard him read the first few pages from his latest book (which I bought but haven’t read yet… gimme a chance, I’m good but not that good, it was three hours ago), I thought how well the words were crafted that it made me re-think, and now I’ll go and read all his books.

John Connolly however was brilliant, I have his first book autographed, and personalised.  I wanted to ask more questions, but I couldn’t remember them until I got in the car, and now I’ve forgotten them again…. well when I remember I’ll post them up here.

Right, I have a mountain of books to read now, as I raided Waterstones in Bath yesterday (three for two dharling) and I went all cultural, (after all I was at a literary festival in Christ Church College Oxford), so I’ve got a book on Parallel Universes by Micho Kaku and a Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking.

I found the site to the Times Oxford Literary Festival at the start of the year and was amused, when I managed to get this year’s list of people who would be speaking at the event I was over the moon that John Connolly was going to be there, so I rapidly booked myself a ticket to go.

I’m not sure if I blogged about it, but last year I had the choice of doing something utterly glam on my Birthday, or going to Bluewater to meet John Connolly.  I chose glam, I don’t remember if it was tbh, I think brunch in Browns at Canary Wharf and then home, should have gone to Bluewater.  Anyway, I phoned up and got John Connolly’s book signed for me, saying “Happy Birthday Emma”.. I wish I’d gone to meet him, it seems like a complete cheat.

I’ve only ever met one author I liked, and ended up hating him so much I refuse to read his books any more.  I’ve met Iain M Banks, but that was for R.  He was a top bloke, really nice author.  So anyway, I’m off to see John Connolly (and Mark Billingham… but I’ve never read any of his books) do a reading on Sunday.  It should be a nice cultural experience.  Well I’m hoping it is.

Well the saga of the workshy lazy decorators hasn’t finished… they went running to our landlord and said we wanted to finish off ourselves.  So I’ve had the letting agents on the phone this afternoon complaining that the landlord had paid for a job to be done and he wanted it finished, blah blah blah… Oh and it gets better… they want a WEEK to paint the living room.  Yes that’s right, a week, to paint a room that they said they’d already painted with one coat of paint. 

Now this isn’t the largest room in the world, it’s about half the size of our living room we had in London, so smallish.  So can someone explain why one coat of paint and a bit of gloss is going to take these workshy lazy wankers one week to complete it?  I am not being thrown out of our living room for a whole week while they turn up late, take two hours for lunch then bugger off early.  That’s even before we get started on the half arsed job they do.  Can someone please explain to me why I’m paying a considerable amount of money to live in half a house?

Why is it when I’m trying to be Zen does every bugger and their dog trys to wind me up.  I was having a very productive day at work and then my calm is shattered by people who do half a job.

Anyhoo… I’m watching black books at the moment, guaranteed to make you laugh.  Why wasn’t Bill Bailey this funny when I saw him live?

I love a good conspiracy theory.  Can’t help myself.  You know the normal things like was there someone on the grassy knowl? Was it really the titanic that sank? So when I picked up a book by James Rollins last year I never expected that the book would mean I wanted to end up buying books that are filled full of Nazi conspiracy theories or dare I say it, ones about Quantum Mechanics (ok so point and fact that I haven’t book the one on Quantum Evolution, as that’s what it’s really about, mainly because I procrastinated for so long it’s now out of print! curse it!!).

Anyway, I’m currently reading a book about the Bell, which is rumoured to be a device developed under the Nazi’s that has inexplicable powers (I say this because nobody knows what’s happened to it, only that it did exist).  There’s tons of conspiracy theory in there, and lots of information about the various technologies that the Nazi’s were developing.  Before I carry on, I don’t condone the Nazi’s but as I said, I love a good conspiracy theory and I love science & technology.

I can’t tell you much about the book yet, but I guess I picked it up in the hope that it might give me some ideas about writing.  I have lots of little ideas in my head but they go nowhere, so I need a theme, a pique, something that will grab my head and a whole story will come flooding out of it.  Given that I loved John Twelve Hawks books, James Rollins latest books and various other books that are pseudo-sci-fi (i.e. they’ve got a bit of science fiction in there, but not enough to make it a bona fide sci-fi book).

I have to focus, I have a goal this year and that’s to write more.  I’m not really doing well so far, mainly because the move down here has been the only thing on my mind really.  However I’m going to try really hard to start thinking about writing again.  Picking up my writers notebook and making little meme’s to myself.  I’ve already started by attacking the word of the day on dictionary.com.  So perhaps I should challenge myself on here to write something each day.  Not that I often seek responses from people, but what are your thoughts?

Ok so that’s a slight exageration.  I’ve got a few cuts on my hands, but that was from last week, honest!! We have the spareroom of doom packed now.  Well I say packed, the only thing left to do are the books (wibble, the thought of it makes my back hurt), clear the bed off and take the junk down the tip.

The kitchen and our room are getting done tomorrow.  Then I need to find the cash next week, with any luck we’ll be moving in a week’s time.  Well I hope we’ll be moving in a week’s time. 

Things feel so much better after a jolly good night’s sleep.  Looking forward to another good night’s sleep tonight.  Feeling a little less frayed today. 

Oh how boring has my life gotten when all I’ve got to blog about is packing boxes to move house.  Shoot me, shoot me now!!

Once opperation relocation (oooh look, that rhymes), has been completed successfully, I am hoping to start using my blog as a writers notebook.  I aim to write more interesting things this year.

I now know how the matriarch in one of the Anne of Green Gables books felt when she constantly complained about her “nerves”.  Our new neighbours are making enough noise to make a shelling in downtown Bagdad sound tame.  I have no idea what they are upto but they never stop thumping, banging or crashing around up there. 

My constant attempts to block it out mentally make me all the more nervy.  I know we aren’t going to be here for much longer, and attempts to complain will be ignored as they ignored our request not to keep the hall light on (the one we pay the bill for, I think only reasonable to request they don’t leave it on). 

Perhaps it is surpressing the desire to tell them they sound like the entire light infantry is causing me to become frayed around the edges, who knows?  Yes, I complain sufficiently enough, perhaps I have nothing to get excited about, or nobody to share it with that causes me to complain.  Still if you were living under the serengety perhaps you, my few readers, would feel the same way.

Also, is it unhealthy to have read the last three Harry Potter books in one week?  They’re not exactly small are they?