Author: anneethompson

Indian Money Troubles….

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I have been learning a little about why the government here withdrew Rs500 and Rs1,000 notes so abruptly (overnight – with no notice.) I can also tell you about the impact we have seen so far on normal people.

So, last week, with no warning, the rupee notes which are most used, were demonetised. That is, everyone was told they now had no value. Cashpoint machines closed, and the only way to change old notes for the new currency was through the banks. This meant that 100 rupee notes soon became scarce, as people needed them. So, even if people had the new bank notes, no one would give them change if they bought something with a higher value note. (Eg. You could buy some apples using a $10 note, but no one would give you any change.)It also meant that no one received tips – which when you’re very poor, matters. So, why did the goverment do this?

There are a whole host of rumours on social media in India, most of which seem to be untrue. There seem to be several different reasons, but two main ones are often mentioned: to stop tax evasion, and to stop money that terrorists/criminals are printing.

India is largely a cash based society. Lots of people have no bank account, they are paid in cash, store their wealth in cash and pay others in cash. This means there is huge potential for tax evasion. A high proportion of the poorest people in India run shops or market stalls. These are automatically taxed ( you pay a ‘market tax’ to have your stall in the street.) So, the poor people are paying tax, even though their income is very low. However, the richer people, those who own businesses, often deal only or partly, in cash ( a bit like plumbers in the UK!) so they have the ability to pay no tax. Which means the government is losing vast amounts of income. This isn’t fair. The vendors who I listened to, approved of the government’s decision, even though in the short term, it made their lives very difficult. It was forcing people to open bank accounts, which enabled the authorities to track cash and stop tax evasion.

India also has a lot of ‘black money’. This is counterfeit money, produced by terrorists and criminals, which has begun to flood the market. One report I read said that terrorists are using counterfeit money in India to fund their campaigns. By withdrawing the currency quickly, with no notice, the government stopped these people from converting their money into gold or other assets. The only way to exchange old currency for new money is through the banks, which criminals and terrorists don’t want to do as they are more likely to be caught.

One report I read said that in India, property is also bought partly for cash. The current currency crisis ( bit of alliteration there) means house prices will probably drop, making them more affordable for the less wealthy. This will lead to an increase in building work, which will produce more work for labourers. Not sure if that’s true, or wishful thinking…

For normal people, this is a difficult time. When we visited the slums in the East of New Delhi, the women were complaining (and laughing) because all their secret cash had now been exposed. They told me that wives tend to hide money, so their husbands cannot drink it. They have now had to reveal all this hidden money, so it can be changed by the banks, which means their husbands now know they have it and can take it from them.

People are not buying cheaper goods, they are not giving money as tips, which impacts the poor people. They also complained that while they are queuing at the banks, they are not working, so are losing pay. Some people pay others to stand in line for them, but this caused disputes too, with those people who were losing work saying it wasn’t fair. If they needed money, people would exchange it for them, but at a bad rate, so they made a loss they couldn’t afford.

The queues outside the banks are getting longer. We saw one line begin to disintegrate, with people at the front trying to push past the guards and shouting. It could so easily turn to riots. Every bank has a guard on the door, holding at least a stick, sometimes a gun. It’s tough to be poor in India. I hope this doesn’t make life even harder.

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Thank you for reading.

I will write more about our trip tomorrow. Why not sign up to follow my blog, so you don’t miss it? We have a day of tourism, then venture into the slums…..

anneethompson.com

Arriving in New Delhi

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Arrived in Delhi. Had booked hotel car from airport, which was good, as taking a taxi would’ve taken hours. The government has withdrawn all 500 and 1,000 rupee notes, so paying for fare would have been difficult. The money exchange places at the airport had huge queues, they circled the baggage hall, round and round, full of tired people needing money.

I used the washroom at the airport. A young woman came into the cubicle with me, wiped the seat, then waited outside to turn on the tap and pass me a towel. I had no money to give her, none at all. Felt bad. I thanked her, but that won’t feed her family. Not sure how she will cope for the next few days, as even 100 rupee notes are now rare, she isn’t going to be collecting any tips for a while.

As we left carpark, I noticed a sign saying, ” No Sitting. No spitting. No cooking.” A group of men sat below it.

Delhi is noisy. All the tuktuks are green and yellow ( unlike Sri Lanka, where they were multicoloured.) Everyone honks whenever they overtake, which is often. Traffic is chaotic. We saw men in scrumpled shirts, scrubland with tents where people were living, cyclists pulling loaded carts, signs written in both Hindi and English. Street sellers walked between the cars whenever we stopped. There were old scooters with dented number plates, gated communities, and dusty trees in flower. The pollution here is severe, several people wore masks and there was a thick haze. You felt it at the back of your throat.

Arrived at hotel. The car was stopped at the entrance, and the boot and bonnet opened by guards. Then we drove up the driveway to the guards at the door. Our bags went through x-ray machines and we had to walk through metal detectors.

We checked in, and discussed the cash problem with the man at the desk. We had no small currency for tips (no one has.) He was very positive about the situation. He told us that everything in the hotel, including food and cars, could be paid for with credit cards, so it was no problem. He said everything would be sorted out in a few days, so it was no problem. He agreed that it meant no one could really shop in smaller shops, as even if we used high value notes to pay, they couldn’t give us any change, and there was now a shortage of the legal 100 rupee notes ( equivalent to £1.20 in UK money.) However, he said, it was nice for people to take a break from shopping for a few days, so really, it was good, not a problem at all. I began to feel like I was in The Exotic Marigold Hotel. Perhaps the culture here is like in Zambia, when they will always try to tell you what you want to hear ( so if you ask how far away somewhere is, you will be told ” not far”, even if it’s miles away.)

After a quick shower, we went for a walk, to try and change our worthless currency for new notes. The streets were busy, but not as chaotic as in Mumbai. We didn’t see any children beggars, and people didn’t touch us. Though they did stare. I got used to this in China, it’s not rude, it’s simply a different culture. There were lots of men hanging around. I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking around on my own (I would be tempted to wear a burka, like I did in Dubai, just to hide from their watching.) We were approached many times by people offering to help us. Where did we want to go? Did we want a tuktuk or a taxi? Could they help us find our way? It was hard to make them leave us alone. I think not many foreigners walk around – but we had been on a plane for hours and wanted to walk.

The path went through a covered walkway, which we walked through. As we left it, we realised it was the edge of a mosque. A man approached and told us we should have removed our shoes. Apologised, and explained we hadn’t realised what it was. He said if we didn’t know, that was fine, people would understand, but we should be more careful in future.

Found bank. Every bank we passed on the way had huge queues outside. We went to the Delhi branch of our own bank. We told the guards that it was our bank, and were shown to a different entrance. They needed to see passports – I didn’t have mine. They took copies of our visa and passport, and said they could exchange up to 4,000 rupees per person (£40). I waited while D changed his money – he was taken to near the front of the queue. Which was nice for us, but not really fair for the people who had waited in line for many hours. We can only exchange money once a fortnight. So we can return tomorrow and I can change some money, then we will have to wait until we’re back in UK. Hope they will exchange the old notes, have a feeling it might be difficult.

I am also concerned about what the lack of spending money means for the poor people here. At the moment, all the bank queues are peaceful. Can that continue when people run out of food?

Back to hotel (managed to avoid walking through any mosques). Dinner (spicy) and sleep.

I will tell you tomorrow what I have learned about why the money has been withdrawn so abruptly.

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Thank you for reading. Why not sign up to follow my blog? Then you won’t miss what happens next in New Delhi….

anneethompson.com

Preparing for New Delhi

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Today is my last chance to get everything ready. Always stressful.

I need to empty the fridge and take all the food to Mum that will be ‘off’ when we get home. I will also deliver some books, in case anywhere needs restocking. Mum is by far my best salesperson, I feel she rather missed her vocation in life, she has no fear. Some of my author friends have asked to borrow her, so I am keeping her location a secret.

When we’re in Delhi, if it’s anything like Mumbai, we will have children approach us in the street, begging. I find this very difficult. To refuse/ignore an adult, feels uncaring, but to refuse a child just feels wrong. Very wrong. However, I know that usually, the children are not begging for themselves. They are often ‘organised’ by an adult, who then removes whatever they have received. Apparently, there is now a scam where they ask you to buy them a specific product – milk, or pens for school, or bread. They have a deal with the local shop owner, so when you have left, they return the goods to the shop and then give the returned money to the adult. So, it’s difficult. I’m not very good at ignoring them. I know it’s best for the children, if I give my money to an organisation – Tearfund or Actionaid – and let them help properly. But I still find the ignoring bit difficult. I thought I would buy some sweets, something small, that an adult would have no interest in. I can give those out. This might of course, result in me being swamped by hundreds more children. Which will please husband no end. But we shall see. I will let you know.

We’re flying overnight, so I will arrive exhausted and with a headache. Always difficult to know what to wear: cold drive to airport, chilly aeroplane air-conditioning, followed by sweaty heat when you arrive and sort taxis, drive to hotel. I tend to go for layers and scarves, which double as blankets on the flight and sun shades when we’re there. If I’m honest, it doesn’t work very well. The layers tend to ride up when I shuffle, so I have bulky lumps of clothing all flight, then when it’s hot, I have too many shed layers to carry.Everyone else seems to look immaculate in the arrivals hall – I am the sweaty woman with black rings where her eye make-up has smudged carrying a sack full of jumble. Lucky I’m not a celebrity.

We have just learned that the Indian government has today cancelled all notes equivalent in value to £5 and £10 (so the small  £1 equivalent are fine). No warning given, they are now worthless. Of course, ALL our Indian money, bought in advance for our flight tomorrow is £5 and £10. Am thinking having zero cash could be a problem (not even thinking about how much money we have lost if there’s no way to be reimbursed.) Also slightly worried this might result in civil unrest. For us to lose the money is bad, for a street vendor in India it might be their life savings. Literally. Wiped out in a day, with no notice given. Not sure this is fair, nor likely to have a good result. Oh yes, and they have shut all the cashpoints for two days. Trip now taken on a rather unsafe feel…Do hope to be writing again in a couple of days.

Thank you for reading.

Why not sign up to follow my blog so you don’t miss an installment?

anneethompson.com

Hospitals, packing and flight…

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Have you ever met a squeamish nurse? I went for my MRI this week (an annual treat) and it was at a new centre – the NHS are obviously outsourcing some of their patients. Went to a very nice surgery in a posh part of London and filled out the usual “I don’t have any metal parts” questionnaire prior to the scan. Except of course, I do, as they rebuilt my skull with a metal plate. So I was explaining this to the nurse, saying that whatever it is that causes MRI machines to explode is not in my head, as I’ve had MRIs since surgery, etc. She was clearly worried about this (I’m wondering if she was new) and she wanted to know how big it was. Well, I have no idea. I was asleep at the time of rebuilding. I told her I didn’t know, but it didn’t feel very big. She then put out a hand, felt the lumps and bumps and dips in my head, shuddered, gave a squeal and moved away quickly. Unexpected.

I’m guessing she was a nurse, because she wore a short blue tunic, and up until this point had behaved like a nurse. Perhaps she wasn’t. Perhaps she was a student or a technician, or someone who had come to mend the photocopier and was filling in because they were short staffed. Whoever she was, I’m sure she’s not meant to react like that with patients. It was actually rather funny, so I giggled and told her she wasn’t meant to do that. Certainly was a change from the normal experience in hospitals.

It has been a busy week because we’re going to India for a few days. Husband is involved with a charity which does lots of work there,  so we are going to New Delhi to look at their work in the slums. Probably you are not meant to call them ‘the slums’ – certainly in Brazil we were told to call them some other name which I now forget. Not sure of the Indian equivalent, but I’ll let you know. It will be interesting to see how the organisation works. I know they do lots of work encouraging people to claim their rights (their rights being things like not being abused, and having clean water to drink.)

First on the list was to put ‘outside cat’ who has been recovering from cut foot, back outside. I anticipated problems. She has loved being inside, sleeping with the dog, purring round our feet in the kitchen, scratching up the carpet…So, I unblocked the cat-flap and put her in the garden, and waited for her to bounce back inside. Nope. Not even a visit. She ran straight back to her family in the workshop, and has ignored me ever since. I rather miss her.

Next I visited the health food shop. I read online that if you take probiotics prior to travel, it helps to build up all the good bacteria in your gut, which improves resistance when the bad ones invade. Not sure if that’s bunk, but figured it was worth a try. I also bought charcoal tablets because also read that IF bad bacteria invade (and India is kinda known for bad bellies) then charcoal caries it out of your system. Again, might be myth, but am hoping I won’t need to test the theory.

It has been rather lovely to dig out my summer clothes again. Weather here has passed the ‘bright pretty autumn’ stage and is mainly cold and wet. Ahhh, for a little sunshine again. Quite hard to know what to take though (packing is never easy.) I need clothes for the slums – so shit proof (sorry mother, but I can’t think of a better word.) I also need smart clothes for the hotel. Plus, when walking around, I need to cover legs and shoulders if I’m not going to attract attention. I do actually have some trousers and a tunic that I bought when in Mumbai, so I’ll take those. And silk scarves rather than sun-hats. Am thinking suitcase is too small…

I will write some extra posts while I’m away, so you can read about what we see. (If they stop suddenly, we might have been kidnapped, so please send help. Or perhaps will be not managing to leave washroom, so perhaps sending more charcoal would be best…)

Take care,
Anne x

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Thank you for reading.

Why not sign up to follow my blog so you don’t miss my posts about New Delhi?

anneethompson.com

If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

 

 

Letter – microwaves and frogs

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Hello, how was your week? Mine was a mixture of difficult and nice.

On Tuesday I had a check-up at the dentist. Mum had an appointment at the same time, so we went together, which was mostly nice (though I am a bit grumpy pre-dentist visits, so was possibly not as chatty as she was hoping.) Everything was fine, so I felt much happier coming out. I need to buy different toothpaste though. Apparently, Colgate causes teeth to become overly sensitive. He told me this last time, so I switched to Oral B toothpaste (which had rather strange shiny granules in – was a bit like cleaning my teeth with glittery sand). Apparently, he told me that both Colgate and OralB cause sensitivity, but I had forgotten half of what he said. I now need to find another toothpaste. Can life get more exciting?

On Friday, we held another Film Night at our church. You remember me writing about the last one? – The one which showed drug snorting, nudity and had lots of swearing? Well, this one was very well attended (word had obviously spread!) It was more suitable for church viewing though, so not sure if they’ll come back.

The next film is about Eddie the Eagle. I remember Dad raving about him at the time. I thought the film sounded rather boring, was planning to take a book. Then I discovered Hugh Jackman is a main character. Have put date in diary.

Chicks continue to survive, despite the fact it is not Spring. They fly around the cage like tiny multi-coloured sparrows. Cute.

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I am not really someone who enjoys housework. This week we bought a new microwave. I was cleaning the old one (don’t ask) and I noticed that the shiny paint that covers the plate where the beams zap out from (technical terms) had worn away. It looked rather like it had burnt away. Plus the door had a big crack in it. Hence the beams, once zapped, could escape. I told husband about this and suggested we needed a new one. The microwave is in the utility room (I don’t trust microwaves in the kitchen – all that zapping cannot be healthy.) He asked what shape the cat is (who also lives in the utility room.) The cat has always been a funny shape, so the evidence was inconclusive, but I ordered a new microwave anyway.

My dislike of cleaning rather came to the fore this week when I dropped a grape. We were watching Homeland – yes, we have reached the age where we watch boxsets together – and I was eating grapes. One fell out of my mouth, as they do, and fell on the floor. It had disappeared, so I knelt down to try and find it. Still couldn’t see it, so husband paused DVD and came down to help look. He swept his hand under the sofa and out rolled the grape (excellent) and a dead frog (not so good.) A frog. Completely dehydrated. How does one get a frog under the sofa? I do not like to think of myself as having the sort of lounge where one finds dead frogs under the sofa. But clearly I do.

Husband has decided to work from home today. I am trying to be positive about this. The trouble is, when I am ‘being creative’ I sort of disappear inside myself, go to a different part of my mind and wander around while writing what I’m imagining. This is not especially enhanced by someone arriving for a chat about when the cat vaccines are due. I have suggested a system – when I am ‘disturb-able’, I will leave the door open, when I am ‘in the zone’ and would prefer to only be disturbed for emergencies, I will keep the door shut. Husband responded well to this suggestion. He then asked what system he should use for “I want a cup of coffee now”. Ah.

Thank you for reading.

Have you bought Hidden Faces yet? A Christmas gift for a friend perhaps?

Hidden Faces, is available from bookshops and Amazon.

Hidden Faces final cover 6 July 2016

As Time Goes On – A Poem

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Now, and Then

IKEA homeware packed in boxes,
Heaps of stuff litter the hall, then squashed into the back of the car.
Last hugs, cheery goodbyes, the drive to uni.
Snippets of home, spread around the strange smelling room,
The lanky excited-scared almost man says goodbye,
And the mother remembers.
She remembers the feel of the bowling ball weight on her hip when she carried him,
The feel of his tiny hands on her cheeks when he offered snotty kisses,
The snuffle of breath as he slept against her shoulder,
She remembers the child as she looks at the man.
As she wishes him well, holds back tears until she has driven away.

Billycans and clothes stuffed in kit-bag,
A train to London packed tight, then bustle hurry find the right squad.
Last hugs, tearful goodbyes, a band plays on.
Heaving the bag, look around for friends joining too,
The lanky excited-scared almost man says goodbye,
And the mother remembers.
She remembers the feel of the bowling ball weight on her hip when she carried him,
The feel of his tiny hands on her cheeks when he offered snotty kisses,
The snuffle of breath as he slept against her shoulder,
She remembers the child as she looks at the man.
As she wishes him well, holds back tears until he has joined his unit.

The posts on Facebook show new friends and nightclubs,
Texts assure his food is fine, his studies easy.
He doesn’t discuss the drunken evenings, the sleepless nights, the fear of loneliness.
But his mother knows, she reads it in unsaid words and tired eyed photos.
And she waits. As life goes on.

There are no letters and the News shows little,
Bold battles move to the Front, the headlines proclaim.
They do not discuss the fallen comrades, the sleepless nights, the fear of injury.
But his mother knows, she reads it in unsaid words and tired eyed photos.
And she waits. As life goes on.

The war ends. The boy returns home.
Yet, not a boy, become a man.
A man who will not speak of horrors,
Will not discuss the stench of death,
The sight of his friends, falling.
The nights when he still hears the screams, still fears the dark.
But his mother knows, she reads it in sunken cheeks and, eyes so weary.
And she waits. As time goes on.

The term ends. The boy returns home.
Yes, still a boy, almost a man.
A boy who chats and loves to amuse,
Loves to debate the point of life,
Who meets all his friends, laughing.
The nights when they drink, talk at length, sort their beliefs.
And his mother knows, he is safe and content with life, has a future.
And she waits. As time goes on.

 

by Anne E. Thompson

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Thank you for reading. I wanted to write a poem as this week is Remembrance Sunday. I always find that a poignant time, I suspect every mother does. The stories and readings are always so sad and I’m guiltily grateful that it’s not my boys who had to fight, had to witness the horrors of war.

 I thought about adding another verse, perhaps linking the two mothers over time, showing how one has allowed the other. But I decided that was too twee, the reader can work it out for themselves. I rather like poems that leave you feeling they are unfinished, that it hasn’t been completely said. I hope you like it.

Another week….

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Have you read anything good lately? I’ve just started reading The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins, am hooked already. It took me a few pages before I started to like it, I wouldn’t have picked it up in a bookshop, read the beginning and then bought it; but after a couple of chapters it’s pretty addictive. I started reading it because daughter recommended it. So often, I buy books because someone has said they are good. (I am really really hoping that everyone who has enjoyed reading my book has told their friends and family…..authors depend on other people to stimulate sales.)

The Girl on the Train is mainly about Rachel, a girl whose life has fallen apart. As we learn more about her, about what led to her divorce and drinking and apathy with life, it seems as if the main catalyst was not being able to have children. That is so sad. I don’t know if the author has children, but she describes in detail how it feels to be unable to have them. I have no idea how accurate it is, but one thing she describes is feelings of jealousy towards people who conceive easily, and how she will avoid places where there are likely to be young families, even leaving supermarkets if there are too many mothers and babies shopping. So sad.

One strange thing about reading The Girl on the Train, is that the author has a very similar writing style to my own. Even the genre is the same as Joanna, so I felt like I was reading my own work – I found I was proofreading rather than just enjoying the story! She even makes some of the same mistakes (so that she has a tendency to use ‘that’ when it isn’t that necessary.) Very strange. At the end of her book she lists all the people who have helped her, including her agent. Given that her book is so similar to Joanna, I am considering sending the manuscript to them for consideration.

This caused me some stress. I found the agent’s website and looked at their submission policy. As with all these agents, it just seems so rude! It lists all the things they want posted (not emailed) such as cover letter, synopsis, first few chapters. They then tell you to check carefully and send everything they have asked for, or they will recycle it without looking at it. Then they say that after they have received your (hours of) work, if they don’t want to represent you, they won’t bother to reply. My inclination is to not send them my book. If they won’t even be polite, why should they have the opportunity to make money from my hard work? Husband tells me this is silly, this is how business works, I will increase my sales through a mainstream publisher. I like the control of self-publishing. Difficult decision. Perhaps I will do both. Self-publishing is good/excellent/fun until it comes to the selling and advertising – then it gets very difficult.

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Another stress point this week has been Milly. She was limping, and when I checked her paw, she had cut it badly. Now, I know about cuts (you learn lots of first aid when you have children.) I know that if you clean the wound, smear it with savlon, and cover it, it will heal – as long as you change the dressing every day. I figured the same would work with a cat. Cats however, are less helpful at staying still. Milly does this wriggling twisting manoeuvre whilst using her back legs to shred the skin from your arm. She got away from me and disappeared. Didn’t come near me for the next two days. When I finally caught her again the cut was worse, so I mortgaged the house and went to the vet. He examined her while she lay still and peaceful in my arms (think he must have hypnotised her.) He then dried the wound with a laser, gave her an antibiotic jab and told me to keep her inside for a few days. Sounds easy. But Milly is an outside cat, she lives in the workshop with her family. She does not want to be an inside cat.

I moved her into the utility room with Louise (the cranky old indoors cat – you can imagine how well that went.) I heaped heavy sacks of cat litter in front of the cat flap, and positioned a full watering can outside, with the spout against the flap so it couldn’t be pushed open. Escape proof – I thought. Milly and Louise were both unhappy, and Molly and Midge (other two outside cats) kept prowling around, trying to find Milly. (Mandy is also an outside cat, but not very clever – I don’t think she noticed.)

The following morning I went into the utility room. No cats. They had shredded the sacks of cat litter, so that was all over the floor. Someone had moved the watering can spout, so I think they had help from outside. Milly, Molly and Midge were all missing. Only Mandy was in the workshop, looking confused.

Eventually, I found the escapee, changed the method of catflap blocking and put her back inside. The paw was now filthy, so goodness knows if it will still heal properly. After a couple of days, she got used to the heat of the house and now seems quite contented. She curls up with the dog and sleeps on the sofa…..Am thinking I might have a problem moving her back outside….

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Take care,
Anne x

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Thank you for reading.

Have you bought Hidden Faces yet? A good gift for someone who you want to make smile…

Hidden Faces, is available from bookshops and Amazon.

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xxx

Chicks, books and shopping…

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Well, as you will have seen, the hen’s eggs hatched. This was not good timing. I was trying to prepare the file for Joanna, ready to send to the typesetter (more on that later.) Egg hatching is always high effort.

I know that really, I should do nothing, let the mother be in control, and if the hatchlings die, so be it. That’s how nature seems to work. But I cannot quite bring myself to not be involved. There is something exciting about eggs hatching, it is like having a present at Christmas when you’re small, you really really want to know what is inside but you have to just be patient and wait.

The hen had laid in a pretty daft place – I think in an attempt to stop me taking her eggs each morning. I didn’t even know she was there for a few days, I thought the fox must have got her. Then I spotted her coming out for a furtive feed one morning. She had nested under the roof of a dog cage, on top of the plastic crate that serves as a nesting box, so quite high, with a ‘roof,’ so she couldn’t be seen from above. Now the eggs are hatching, if one of the chicks falls out the nest, it falls quite a long way, and cannot climb back in.

When I went up this morning, I could hear a chick cheeping, but it was nowhere to be seen. The mother was refusing to budge from her nest, so I am assuming she had more eggs hatching. I had to crawl through straw and cobwebs and spiders and chicken poop, right behind the nesting box, to rescue the chick. It was dark brown, very pretty. I put it back in the nest and it crawled back under it’s mother – who pecked me for disturbing her! Ungrateful bird. I have checked the nest every hour all day. It is too cold for chicks to survive out of the nest.

Of course, this was not my plan for the day. My plan was to work all day, preparing my next book. All the changes my editor suggested have been finished, and it has all been proofread. Now it needs to be formatted ready for the typesetter, who will produce a nice file ready for the printer. I have to read and reread, and read again, checking for errors (this is my last chance to spot them) adding notes about where I want time breaks and new chapters and boring details like that.

I am rather excited about the book though. It is very different to Hidden Faces, I think it will appeal to a broader audience, it is a bit more ‘gritty’. It was lots of fun to write. A friend who is studying photography at uni is preparing the cover photo. She has sent me through some ideas, which are all very exciting. I want to show people, but I know I’m supposed to wait, to not reveal the cover until it’s all finished. Again, it is a lot like waiting for Christmas! It won’t be ready until next Easter time, which feels like forever. This time I shall have a ‘book launch’ – which my sister told me I should have had for Hidden Faces, but I just wasn’t brave enough.

In the meantime, I am still selling Hidden Faces. The first rush has died down, but I’m still getting a steady flow of orders, mostly from people who have been told about it by a friend (I can see where the sales are, so can link people geographically.) I am hoping to sell another batch as Christmas gifts, especially as it begins with a nativity play – very topical. Some people have been very kind as I’ve launched this new venture, and I am very grateful to them. These include a local reporter who has included me in the newspaper, friends who have written reviews or recommended it to others, the shops who have taken a risk on an unknown author and stocked my book. It would all have been impossible without other people helping me.

This week someone put a list of names through my letterbox, asking me to write them into books, then sign them and write ‘Christmas 2016’ underneath. That was a nice surprise – it meant I sold another 8 books.

I am still looking for marketing ideas, so if you have any suggestions, do let me know. I am taking books to several different Christmas markets, and am going to speak to a reading group in the town.

I have also been invited to speak in November at a lunch in London. This is particularly scary – mainly because I have to sort the animals and get a train and not be late (the public speaking bit will be fine, I have done quite a lot of that, and this is about literacy and books, both of which I know lots about.) I will also have to look reasonably smart – which for someone who basically lives in jeans and wellies is somewhat of a stress point. I am the woman in the supermarket with straw and cobwebs in her hair – see information above! I forced husband to come shopping with me (sorely missed having daughter at home.) I last went clothes shopping two years ago before we went to Brazil. Am not a shopper. Bought a dress. Need to practise walking in heels. Hope venue isn’t too hot or I shall speak with a pink face. I will let you know how I get on.

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Take care,
Anne x

PS. Don’t forget the clocks go back on Sunday!

xxxx

Thank you for reading.

Have you read Counting Stars?

A kindle book available from Amazon. The story of a family in the world around the corner….meet Lena, a woman who is just like you. She worries and wonders and even needs to use the washroom occasionally! She also does amazing things to save her family – because that is what women do.

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Or for readers in the US:

xxx

 

October

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I love autumn, don’t you? I think October is my favourite month, the chance to hide again in thick sweaters, to snuggle with a book next to the fire, long walks in bright sunshine through the crisp autumn air. What else? What do you think of in October?

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Do you think of the last of the dahlias, before the hard frost arrives? The flowers turning to seed ready for next spring.

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Do you think of fruit, waiting to be collected? The last of the apples, the brambles heavy with berries.

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Do you think of acorns, dropping from the tree? Think how many oaks we would have if each one grew – God gives extravagantly, more than we would ever need.

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Do you think of wild birds forming into flocks? Wheeling overhead as they prepare to fly south.

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Do you think of harvested fields? The stubble standing in rugged furrows.

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Or perhaps you think of the farmer, turning the soil ready for next years crop?

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Do you think of seed heads? Of dead leaves? Of bright colours?

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Do you think of berries, shining in the hedgerows?

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Or wild rosehips showing where the flowers were?

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Or, do you think of new chicks, of broody hens sitting on eggs?…Er…nor do I….

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My chickens clearly missed the lesson on “Seasons for Chickens”!

No idea what will happen when the cold weather arrives.

Thank you for reading.

This week has been too busy with final proofreading of my next book and caring for unexpected chicks!
I will write a proper blog ready for next week. Hope you enjoyed the photos.

Take Care,
Anne x

xxxxxx

Fancy curling up next to the fire with a good book?

Hidden Faces final cover 6 July 2016

Hidden Faces by Anne E Thompson

Available from bookshops and Amazon.

xxx

Book Promo

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I have just submitted the following article to an online newspaper. I thought I would share it with you too…..

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A few years ago, I was at a party enjoying a white wine, when someone said to me, “Oh, you drink!”
I was their five year old child’s school teacher, and because I spent my days reciting nursery rhymes and counting to ten, they obviously thought this continued after work too.The fact that their child’s teacher was drinking, even (horrors) slightly tipsy, was shocking!

Primary school teachers tend to not smoke and swear when at work, they don’t have sex or lose their temper. Some people think they don’t at home either.

I met similar views when growing up. My father was a Baptist minister, and growing up in a manse was a strange experience. We were seen as ‘different’, as people who didn’t behave as ‘normal’ people did. It was also assumed that my thoughts and views would be the same as my father’s. I recall giving an opinion once, and someone saying, “But your father doesn’t think that.” They were totally confused – how could I have a different point of view to my father, when he was the minister?

I began writing full time two years ago. I was invited to a lunch, and the after dinner speaker was the bestselling author Adele Parks. As she told us her story, how she loved to tell stories and write, I thought, ‘I could do that.’ I have always told stories – to my children and pupils and friends – now I write them down and tell them to strangers.

When I wrote my first book, Hidden Faces, I wanted to show that people have different sides, different masks if you like. Everyone says ‘write what you know’, and I followed this advice with my first book. I wrote about being a primary school teacher, I wrote about growing up in a Baptist manse, I wrote about people having different sides to their characters, changing their behaviour to fit who they’re with.

I have now written three books, the second will be published in the Spring 2017. I am a person who likes to laugh, and that humour infiltrates my books, making the stories an easy read. I tend to write about strong women and teenaged boys, because these are the people who I know best.

Anne E. Thompson writes a weekly blog at anneethompson.com

Her first book, Hidden Faces, is available from bookshops and Amazon.

Hidden Faces final cover 6 July 2016

xxxx