Last Monday was one of those days...Worried about being on time for our salon with Claire Scobie, I'd barrelled home after a drawn out appointment, gathered up my stuff and slapped on some lipstick without the aid of a mirror (always a mistake). Rain coat on, I cantered to the bus stop and flagged down a bus just as the heavens cracked open. Half way to Vauxhall I realised I'd left behind my laptop, brolly and current read...

I always feel a little nervous and excited before a Words Away salon. Striding through Vauxhall Gardens the other night, en route to our recent event with Sara Grant, I saw a group of men with big muscles engaged in a tug-o-war. They even had a coach shouting instructions on the sidelines. I stopped to watch for a minute and wondered if I could wrangle a useful metaphor out of the encounter for the blog. A few minutes later I arrived at our venue, the Tea House Cafe, to find a Cornish Crabber beached beside the outdoor furniture. Metaphors were popping up all over the place! Or perhaps they were omens. Would tonight be a struggle or smooth sailing?

I had a moment of confusion last Monday night, wondering if it’s too soon to ditch my heavy winter jacket and scarf. So what a pleasure it was, to step out in the early evening with the sun shining. I cut through Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens to find Tea House customers once again enjoying afternoon tea outside. What difference a month makes! Maybe I imagined it, but I’m sure everyone arrived smiling for our Writing Historical Fiction salon. Then again, maybe that was all down to our guest writer, Essie Fox.

I followed the ghost of myself all around town, pointing out places and telling stories about the long last past to my increasingly disinterested family. There was something elemental and poignant about revisiting the haunts of my childhood - swimming in the same ocean, listening to the boom of the surf from bed at night.

It's 3.45am local time here in Australia. Jet lagged and unable to sleep, I'm staying at my parent's house in the Blue Mountains. Outside, crickets and frogs are singing in the night. I'm in the dining room, trying to be quiet, working on the remembrance speech I've been asked to write and read for my father's funeral on Friday. 

According to Oscar Wilde, there's only one thing in life worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about. I found myself thinking about this as the bus bumped and lurched along Camberwell New Road toward Vauxhall last Monday night. I was looking forward to meeting our salon guest, Ruth Ware, a former book publicist and New York Times bestselling thriller writer... 

Yesterday, I stopped for a latte at F*ckoffee, a cafe, on hip and happening Bermondsey Street. They even gave me a loyalty card and stamped it. Surrounded by young urban types I cast an eye over the Mavis Gallant story, The Ice Wagon Going Down The Street, from her Paris Stories collection. I'd read the story earlier as prep for a short story masterclass run by the Word Factory, with the brilliant writer, Tessa Hadley.

Last Monday, on a bitterly cold January night, I made my way across Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens toward the lights of Tea House Theatre Cafe. I was a bit nervous and excited as I’d been looking forward to our salon with the amazing Stella Duffy for months. She’d kindly offered to come along as a Words Away guest after I’d met her last year at a reading of her novel, London Lies Beneath, at Camberwell Library . 

Yesterday, alongside a friend, I went on a march for the first time in my life. We novices joined an estimated 100,000 people, on the first day of Donald Trump's administration, for The Woman's March London in support of women's rights and equality for all. It was part of a global day of action across 15 British and Irish cities and 161 counties worldwide. And it was brilliant!

The past year has been one of enormous change in every sense. The world's in flux. On a personal level too, there's been all sorts of readjustments. The future feels uncertain and time is precious. It’s easy to get caught up, weighed down and paralized. I can’t change my ways. I’ll always be a bit of a shambles with hoarding tendencies. But what’s a new year for, if not for renewal, hope and good intentions. 

Now that our new season of salons for 2017 are arranged, I’m thinking ahead to 17th - 19th March and our residential writing retreat at Rathfinny Wine Estate. I’m really thrilled to be hosting the retreat alongside guest tutor, Emma Darwin. We’ve put together a program to inspire any writer in need of a little time, space and a bit of spoiling.

Last Monday night I delved into the labyrinth of Plot and Story with Caroline Green and Emma Darwin. We'd not used the stage before, with its dramatic red back drop and black curtains, but as we had quite a turnout, our biggest crowd yet, it worked really well. The resident cat snoozed on a comfy chair oblivious to the bustling room. Everyone sorted out their tea, cake and wine essentials before finding their way to a seat and settling in for a good chat followed by a Q & A session.

Last Thursday night I swapped my elasticated trackie-daks for a party top and high heels and set off for The Cinema Museum, secreted in deepest SE11, for the launch of Essie Fox’s new novel, The Last Days of Leda Grey.  Part of the fun was finding the venue, tucked away as it was, but once found what a treat!

I love living in South London, it’s steeped in history and there are stories everywhere. Some stories are waiting for you, some you have to seek out…Last Tuesday night I stepped out to enjoy a particularly lovely evening of readings and writerly chat at the bright, beautiful Camberwell Library

Elizabeth's novels are set in Tudor England and she spoke candidly about her approach to creating characters, covering lots of ground. We began with the question of what Elizabeth looks for in a potential main character. She's interested in spirit; something to identify with personally, a spirit of rebellion. Bad girls! Try googling that for an image for your blog. 

A couple of years ago some friends of mine, Mark and Sarah Driver, bought a farm in Alfriston, a beautiful part of Sussex not far from the sea. They had plans to build a vineyard. On a walk with Sarah we visited the potential site of the winery and tasting rooms before exploring the ruins of some derelict flint barns. Sarah conjured up a vision of beautifully restored barns to accommodate potential seasonal workers, walkers and wedding parties.