When One of Us Dies I am Moving to the Ritz.

Yes the Ritz is the first choice. My life is a challenge and waking to the low sound of moaning,  from different areas in the residence is hard, bright smiles fall on deaf ears. Having completed my seventh novel which features the ghastly hardships suffered by sailors in the eighteenth century I occasionally think I am actually living the bad dream. But then there are the good things like a wonderful birthday party planned with love and all the rest and a truly marvellous celebration in my house for Joyce D’ Silva’s thirty years in Compassion In World Farming, she is an astonishing woman and has changed the map for awareness of the suffering that animals have suffered in the name of factory farming. These are rare moments which must be sent from somewhere. But an all-time low today and dark thoughts about ……???? Were lifted by Harvey the hairdresser who did my hair and restored my life for all most nothing because he is one of those earthly angels. He knows I am on the edge in every way but again catastrophe is avoided then there is Albert who must remain anonymous but he is storing up untold riches somewhere, Albert gets it, he sees behind the façade. Don’t get me started on the “nipote” who lives here he is wise beyond this place and time.

That’s the thing about being a writer, you have to see what lies behind. I am reading my manuscript straight through for the first time and I see patterns drawn from my own life, the sense of loss which pervades all lives, that or the fear of it and the dysfunction of all families when things do not go as they think they should. Someone must be blamed, it is not just an act of God or a voice from the past coming through in the DNA we would not choose. As I get older the shoulders are narrowing and so are the choices, but writing is what saves you, it is a rare privilege it opens a wondrous world where people emerge and dance on the page, they think and you listen carefully and you learn.

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