Cyprus 5

Family Holiday Diary 2016

We checked out of Annabel Hotel, Pathos, and drove along the coast to Coral Bay. We had rented a villa for the last week of the holiday. R and S had left to return to work, so it was just M, girlfriend H, J, with me and D. We drove there via a supermarket (parking always stressful, but foreign supermarkets are usually interesting. This one was fairly standard, disappointing.)

The villa, booked through James Villas, was fairly basic, very brown, but will be fine as long as nothing breaks. It has air conditioning (essential) but only in the bedrooms – so I decided pretty quickly that home cooking was not on the menu. Coral Bay is a mix of beautiful coastline and trashy restaurants. We ate in a ‘traditional’ restaurant that wasn’t traditional at all, just over priced and full of ‘Brits Abroad’. Hope we find somewhere nicer tomorrow.

Monday

Woke late after a terrible night. Lazed around, swam/read. M worked (still finishing dissertation) then stepped fully clothed into swimming pool. As a suicide attempt it was lame, but I can think of no other reason.

Found washing line (most exciting feature of villa) and hung up classy fluffy expensive beach towels that we bought in the supermarket. (The expensive bit is true.) Ate stale bread for lunch.

Drove to catacombs. Quite interesting, though spoilt by all the litter. One cave had a pool of water (hard to see in the dark) which J washed his muddy shoe in and then worried might be a leaking sewage pipe. Afterwards read guidebook (why does my family always read them after the visit?) and discovered that actually it was miraculous water. All hoped it might improve his rather ugly feet, but no change so far.

Drinks in McDonalds (so nice, mainly because it was cool in there.)

Stopped on way back to villa to photograph banana plantations. This area has lots of them. It was interesting because you could see the various stages, from flower, to tiny beginnings to full bananas – which were then covered in blue plastic bags. Never found out why, so do tell if you know.

Walked from villa to beach. D claims this is a 7 minute walk. It isn’t. It is 10 minutes of fast walking to the top of the cliff. Beach crowded, sea nice – not cold, wonderfully blue with gentle waves. J looked for fish and saw a mammoth (no alcohol involved, so not sure how he managed that.)

Dinner at The Old Cinema Tavern next to the church in Pegeia square (99380842). It was very nice, traditional Greek food (without the dancing or pervy glass balancing man.) It was recommended by the woman who works in the supermarket. {Top travel tip: Forget guidebooks, just ask the woman who works in the local supermarket for places to eat. They will be better, cheaper, and more traditional than anything you’ll find in tourist guides!} When we finished our meal, they brought us plates of fresh fruit and shots of zivania. This was a little like drinking paint stripper. H was surprisingly proficient at drinking shots…

Drove back to villa. Saw the glasses balancing man doing his act (complete with “hand up volunteers’ skirts” routine) in a different Greek restaurant. Evoked an extremely strong reaction from both boys. This is how wars are started. So glad we hadn’t chosen that particular place to eat.

Tuesday

I read the book of Acts, about Paul visiting Salamis and Pathos 2,000 odd years ago. Pretty cool to read about places we’ve visited ourselves.

Stale bread and cereal for breakfast. D tried to educate everyone in early eighties music and played Alan Parsons Project. Loudly. Not sure everyone appreciated it. I washed my extra expensive quality fluffy towel with tee-shirts. Tee-shirts now covered in fluff.

Bought a selection of pastries for lunch. Olive bread a challenge due to olive stones. One pastry seemed to contain toothpaste, wasn’t popular. Also, we keep having ants in the kitchen. Have designated Dustbin Dave to empty rubbish regularly (he is objecting to name.)

Went for drive. Followed signs saying “Waterfall: Road suitable for all cars”. Followed signs for a long way – until they led off tarmac road onto gravel track with sheer drop on one side. Decided we didn’t want to see waterfall that much. Fantastic views of Pathos and coastline from hills. Walked along deserted hills for a while, then came to some leather chairs under a sunshade. Bizarre.

Dinner in Imogens Tavern in Kathikas (another recommendation from supermarket lady.) Sat at tables with chequered cloths with candles under vines and fig trees. Not bad at all.

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Strong characters and light humour in an easy read novel – why not buy a copy for the weekend?

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Cyprus 4

Posted by anneethompson

Family Holiday Diary 2016

Pathos has a beach front full of shops and restaurants designed for tourists. Most of them seem to be English. We ate in Bacchus, a Bistro overlooking the sea. They were very friendly (the old man who enticed us in gave us his home-grown cucumbers to try). Food was a bit rough.

Drank cocktails in bar.

Friday

Breakfast at 9. Everyone surprisingly awake. Apparently, if you have a room overlooking the restaurant, it gets noisy from 7am. Breakfast was busy, but had a huge variety of food to choose from.

M worked (beware, gentle reader, if one does a Masters course for one year from September, it can somewhat eat into your holiday.) Rest of us considered sitting in silence to support him, then swam/read/sunbathed instead.

Nice lunch in cafe opposite hotel (a fraction of hotel prices.)

Swam in sea, which was cold and had big rocks near the surface, so you had to be careful. Played ‘netball’ in the pool and didn’t get shouted at by attendant (we sometimes have rather unhappy relationships with pool attendants on holiday.) S swam a length underwater. H didn’t, which was tactful of her.

Chinese for dinner. Very nice, though slightly strange being in a Chinese restaurant where no one at all was Chinese. Perhaps the cooks were.

Saturday

Breakfast a bit ‘old’ – had been there a while I fear. Not everyone made it to breakfast due to extensive clubbing the night before (will remain nameless, but they know who they are…)

Swam/read on balcony. Pleasant.

Lunch at La Place Royal opposite hotel again. M dropped a chip and a whole deluge of ants arrived (waitress swept them away with a broom.) Big telly was showing Olympics.

D and S played table tennis (obviously inspired by Olympics.)

Drove to Pathos old town. Guide book showed bustling markets, interesting churches and mosques, historical sites. Hmm, not what we saw. Firstly, we got lost trying to leave town, as there were random one-way streets and closed roads not marked on the map (apparently – J was map reading.) Found some ruins, with St Paul’s pillar, by chance. This was where St Paul was tied when he was whipped (I have to say, this story does not appear in my Bible, where his trip to Pathos was relatively smooth, but perhaps I missed it. There was a pillar, clearly labelled, so who am I to doubt its authenticity?)

Finally made it to old Pathos. A large sign directed us to parking, but we realised just in time that it was pointing to a steep flight of steps, so didn’t drive down there. No other cars in carpark (which perhaps should have been a clue.) Wandered around. It was very hot. Everywhere was deserted. There was a gun on the floor, and sounds of chanting from the church. The shops had mannequins straight from a horror movie, all the roads had been dug up, cafes and market were all deserted. A few isolated cars and bikes passed us – we began to think they were all driven by the same few people. It was very weird. It also made for a perfect story, so I wrote one (I didn’t have to use much imagination!):

The Story of Old Pafos

Decided we would visit again another day. Returned to the seafront. Arrived back at Annabel hotel. D drove up to the barrier and spoke into the intercom.
D: Hello – Guest-e-o (why??)
Reply: Hello, welcome.
D: Welcome (why?? Why repeat welcome?)
Reply: Are you a guest?

We all refused to walk in with him.

J informed me that, “Physics is all the interesting parts of maths.” So much I do not understand in that statement.

Went to Democritos, which promised to be a traditional Greek restaurant with music and dancing. There was a good menu, a pretty atmosphere, and live music by some talented musicians. Had a very nice selection of starters to share. And then the dancing began… I have to say, Greek dancing is somewhat repetitive by the time it is in its fiftieth loop of repeated steps. A man came and balanced glasses on his head. Lots of them. He wore a badge declaring he was a Guinness World Record holder – was tempted to ask him what for. He asked for volunteers to add glasses and then put his hand up their skirts. M and J decided he was a pervert. It was a very long evening. I think perhaps Greek restaurants are something you only need to experience once in your lifetime. It has been much discussed since. At the time, I was just bored – I now realise how lucky I am that M and J didn’t get up and punch the glass balancing man (I much prefer the bored option.)

Thank you for reading. Tomorrow I will tell you about our villa in Coral Bay (and how we saw the glasses balancing man again…)

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Cyprus 3

Posted by anneethompson

Family Holiday Diary 2016

Wednesday

Nice breakfast, huge choice (The Colony hotel in Kyrenia, northern Cyprus.) Waiter was from Ukraine, had rings on his thumbs. Learnt ‘thank you’ in Ukrainian – ‘jack-queer’ (not unlike the Polish, ‘chink-queer’. Spelling my own, in case you were wondering.)

Family swam/sunbathed. H swam TWO lengths underwater. I wandered around the lanes of Kyrenia. Pretty town. Saw tiny shops, an abandoned church, a mosque, and lots of cats and dogs who wandered freely and seemed content.

Pizza lunch on hotel roof. Then most of us drove south, to Salamis (this was M’s choice, strangely. Either due to latent historic interest or because it features in certain computer games. I expect it was for intellectual reasons.) Salamis is old Roman/Hellenic city. Lots of random walls and pillars left. Very relaxed rules, we could walk where we liked (later read sister’s blog, which warns of snakes, but we didn’t see any.) Toilet incredibly clean (in case you ever visit.) Apparently Barnabus (New Testament character) lived there (in Salamis, not the toilet.)

Drove to Famagusta. Eventually found the part that has been fenced off (after lots of stress free U-turns by good natured husband.) It is weird. The deserted area runs right to the seafront, with fences and warnings going into the sea. What a waste. We could see houses, boutique hotels, shops, all left to crumble into ruin. Lots of barbed wire and notices warning people to keep out, that photos were prohibited, soldiers with guns – right next to kiosks selling cold beer, ice-cream and flipflops. I cannot believe it has been like this since 1974 and nothing has changed. No wonder people are angry. What a waste.

Didn’t get shot/arrested. Drove back to hotel. Buffet dinner in hotel. Not especially nice.

Thursday

The males have been clearly impressed/perturbed by H swimming so far underwater. This morning J nearly died, but also managed two lengths underwater. H then swam THREE lengths. Am worried J might die attempting this, have forbidden D from trying to keep up.

12:00 Checked out of hotel. Well, D checked out, it takes a long time for seven people to all arrive in the same place at the same time. About an hour.

Drove for a few hours, doing a slight detour to Mount Olympus. Grandpa was stationed here in the 1950’s, as part of his National Service. We weren’t sure what exactly he did, nor where exactly he was, but it was somewhere in the area and something to do with signals. Personally, I think that if Husband inherited his DIY skills, I might have found the aerial he put up….

Journey enhanced no end by D taking photographs of everyone for a very long time in the very hot sun.

Eventually arrived at Annabel Hotel, Paphos. J did a better job of map reading than yesterday (when we were suddenly aware he had fallen asleep….) Hotel seemed very nice, though crowded with English people. It has beautiful pool area with plants and lazy rivers and pillars and rows of sun beds. There’s even a pool bar, where you can sit on stools in the water. A few steps lead to the beach and a promenade you can walk along for miles, towards touristy shops or other hotels. Seems lovely.

Tomorrow I will tell you about Paphos (sometimes spelt Pafos.)

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Thank you for reading.

anneethompson.com

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If you enjoyed this, you will enjoy reading my book, Hidden Faces. Strong characters and light humour in an easy read novel set in a school. Available from Amazon and local bookshops, £7:95.

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Cyprus 2

Posted by anneethompson

Holiday Diary 2016

Monday

Breakfast at 9. Ate loads again. Then waiter appeared with fresh pastries so ate those too. Diet not going well.

Swam/read/sorted emails (still selling books in UK so have to check all going smoothly. Strange to ‘work’ on a holiday.) Sandwiches by pool. Looked around hotel and discovered there’s a bar with free drinks and snacks. Males view this as a challenge.

Drove into Old Town. Found easier carpark. Walked up to the ‘green line’ and showed our passports at border control. Walked through a deserted bit of road (the ‘buffer zone’. Wondered if the people who owned houses there had been compensated) into the Turkish section of Nicosia. It was VERY different. Almost at once we were in bustling lanes with crafts and trinkets spilling into the paths. It was exactly like being in Turkey. I bought some gifts, which I paid for with Turkish Lire left over from a previous holiday (D so pleased I had kept them in my purse for a few years.) I could have used Euro. Saw minerets of mosque.

Went to Büyük, which used to be an inn, is now a market. Males delighted I had found more lace and needlework to admire. Had drinks and sandwiches in the shade. Very hot.

Back through border, didn’t get shot. Drove back to hotel (slight Jimmy detour).

I read/slept. Others swam. There seems to have been a dispute with a Spanish woman, culminating in D’s beach ball accidentally hitting her in the face. Am hoping story has been exaggerated.

D decided we would eat in typically Greek restaurant listed in guidebook. Did not turn out as planned. Found correct hotel, but had trouble locating actual restaurant. It turned out to be next to the pool, which was very pretty with urns and arches and flowers. It was also shut (despite him phoning ahead.) We were told they were serving the full menu in the bar. They weren’t. Phoned another restaurant from guidebook, and were assured they were open. It was shut. Our call had been diverted to a different restaurant, in the same chain (but they hadn’t mentioned that.) This was a challenge to find. R used clever phone to mark exact position on map. J then directed us straight to marked position, which turned out to be a carpark in a dodgy residential area. Finally drove to correct place. Dinner was actually very nice. Cafe La Mode. Good food.

Returned to hotel. Hot chocolate and cards in lobby.

Tuesday

Big breakfast again (diet not what I was hoping.)

Swam. M worked, poor thing. H swam a whole length underwater. D didn’t. Everyone in danger of burning, sun very hot.

Checked out of Hilton. Reception gave gifts to me, H and R – nice thought, nice box, not entirely sure what it is – I think metallic pomegranite. Or tomato.

Driving through the border into northern Cyprus was fine (once we found it, is not signposted.) We bought 3 days of car insurance, because Cypriots won’t cover driving in the north. On the way, we saw a huge Turkish flag on the hills. Somewhat confrontational for the Greek Cypriots one might feel….

Arrived in Kyrenia. Hotel, The Colony, seems nice and is a short walk from the harbour, which is beautiful. R broke her room safe and it started beeping, so she removed the battery. Resourceful.

3pm lunch on hotel roof. Slow. Great view of mountains behind Kyrenia. Could see outline of castle my sister wrote about in her blog (which describes how high it is, so am not tempted to visit.) Males drank 1L glasses of Effes (local Turkish beer.) Am thinking whole afternoon will be slow.

Walked round harbour. Pretty.

S adopted a stray dog, Gerald, who then came along on our walk. Reminded me of going for walks as a child with pocketfuls of biscuits and trying to entice dogs to follow me. Someone should buy him a pet…

Walked to Roman ampitheatre. Slightly renovated (the plastic chairs were a giveaway.)

Ate in Italian restaurant overlooking harbour. View magnificent, food shabby, service careless. Hoping none of us have food poisoning.

Walked around town. Saw some stalls selling things they had made, or had found (looked a bit like an attic clear out in some cases). The people looked so poor in cheap synthetic clothing, and were trying so hard, straightening things made from beads to try and present them better, I felt uncomfortable. D gave me some local money so I could buy bracelets and scarf – not quite sure what to do with them, but felt better for having bought them. (Part of trying to live by the Micah verse:- What God requires is this: to do what is just, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.)

Tomorrow we hope to visit Famagusta – a town that was sealed off when Turkey invaded and has never been reopened. A sort of modern day ghost town. Am hoping we can get inside somehow, but just seeing the edge will be interesting. I’ll let you know what it’s like.

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Thank you for reading.

You can follow my blog at anneethompson.com

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Cyprus

Posted by anneethompson

Family Holiday Diary 2016

Saturday

Met R and S at Gatwick. Ate big brunch in Lebanese restaurant. Males drank beers. At 11am.

I took my book to WHSmith to try and persuade the manager he might like to stock it (not easy to meet an ‘airside’ manager unless flying somewhere and it’s easier to persuade in person than by email.) He was surprised, said no one had ever asked him before, but promised to look into it (he was unsure if being at an airport meant he had less choice than a High Street branch – where the store manager has discretion over what he stocks.) Asked if he could have a copy of book for his staff to read. Left one (though losing a book had not been part of my plan!) I will email him when I’m home, in a couple of weeks, and let you know if he agrees to stock them.

Flight uneventful. 4hours.

Paphos airport efficient (empty, wondered why.) I used toilet. You can sometimes tell a lot about a country from the toilets. These were clean but I was slightly perturbed by the signs…

Bought water, collected hire car (which, for 7 people, is more of a van.)

Drive to hotel long. J map read, relatively little abuse from family. Hotel (Hilton, Nicosia) nice. Dinner by pool. Hotel has a glass elevator. Rooms nice. Learnt Greek for ‘thank you’ – ‘ef-harry-stom’.

Sunday

Late breakfast. Males very late. Nice range of food. I ate too much (meant to be losing weight.) Males didn’t drink beer.

Swam/read. Weather very hot (might be why airport was empty. Last year, in Malta, it rained one day. Hence D now booked us in near Sahara resort. Hoping it doesn’t rain this holiday…)

Drove to Nicosia Old Town. Van very wide for narrow streets. Parked (stressful) and walked around. R didn’t buy flipflops. Wandered, by chance, to border with Turkish controlled northern section. Saw sandbags and barbed wire and a young soldier who picked up his rifle as we approached. Decided not to try and chat (wasn’t sure my eight words of Turkish would make much of a conversation. Plus thought he might shoot me.)

The whole divided Cyprus thing seems strange to me. I missed it at the time, so will explain briefly: After the Brits left in about 1960 (Grandpa did his National Service here) the Cypriots were a mix of Greeks and Turks, who lived peacefully alongside each other. In 1974, according to the Turkish Cypriots, a few Greek Cypriots were pressing for the island to be joined to Greece. They staged a coup, backed by Greece, trying to overthrow the government by force. In order to protect the Turkish Cypriots, Turkey sent in their army, who marched down from the north. This history is told rather differently in the south, where they claim the Turkish army invaded Cyprus, unhindered by the UN, and have since refused to leave. They now state the north of their country is under Turkish occupation.

I can offer no insights as to which is the true opinion. Probably there is some truth on both sides and ordinary people, who just wanted to get on with their lives, were hurt on both sides. I can tell you that the border is odd. It looks temporary, like something students have erected as a dare overnight. But with armed guards (who also look like students.) The country is now divided, north and south, with what is called ‘the green line’ running through the middle. This is patrolled and fenced, with passport border controls and military and signs telling you not to take photographs or enter certain zones. It is odd. However, for a marriage, I can see that a green line has certain benefits. Tried to instigate a green line in hotel room (when in Cyprus…etc) It didn’t work. I clearly also need Turkish soldiers.

The old town in south Nicosia seemed a bit run down. Not sure if this is because we were seeing it mid summer (when sensible people are elsewhere.) There was a strange mix of very expensive shops right next to very cheap shops. We wandered round for a while, then ate dinner in a boiling hot kebab place (which said it had air conditioning, but if it did, they hadn’t turned it on!) D worried about the drink/driving laws half way through a Keo, which boys kindly finished for him. We were given tiny pots of bitter yogurt for dessert. Most of us passed them straight to S.

Went back to hotel and chatted in lobby. J played the grand piano (proud mummy moment.) D made up a quiz (which got a bit long to be honest.)

Tomorrow we plan to walk through border into Turkish controlled section. Why not sign up to follow my blog so you don’t miss it?

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Thank you for reading.

anneethompson.com

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Publishing a Book – Part Six

Posted by anneethompson

Having launched my book locally, it was time to think about something bigger.

I went into Waterstones. I asked to speak to the manager, which seems to always make people look a bit nervous, then they are relieved when you tell them why. The manager at Bluewater was very nice. She explained that all Waterstones shops can only order from certain suppliers. Those suppliers WILL take books from self-published authors, though they deal with the publisher, not the author. If, therefore, you choose to self-publish with a publishing company (who you pay), I am not sure if they would also deal with wholesalers on your behalf. We created our own company, so that was okay, I could approach them as an ‘indie publisher’.

Wholesalers will only consider books with both an ISBN number and a registration with Nielson. If you look on the Waterstones website, it explains how to do all of this. It is a long process and takes several weeks. If the wholesaler accepts your book, you can then go into individual Waterstones bookshops and persuade the manager to stock your book. They will then order it directly from the wholesaler. I am just starting this process (actually, I started at the wrong end and went into the shop first, but they were very nice about it.) I will let you know how I get on.

We left Bluewater – I am not one to linger when shops are involved and son had finished hunting Pokemon. On the way home we called in at a smaller branch of WH Smiths. I spoke to the manager, who took details of the book and looked at a copy of the cover. He said everything had to go through head office and he would email the publisher to let them know. It was encouraging – he didn’t say no. However, he also didn’t explain anything – I’m not sure if WH Smiths only buy through wholesalers. Their website is unhelpful. (Actually, I have since spoken to a different WH Smiths manager. The shop manager is allowed to sell books by local authors, and, after agreement from head office, can take them directly from the author/publisher without the need for a middle man.)

When I got home, I learned a little about wholesalers (not a term I was used to hearing.) Basically, they take books from publishers – probably the printer sends them straight there if you are a major publishing house, presumeably Mr Hodder and Stoughton doesn’t have a spare room full of books. Shops then order them straight from the wholesaler and they deliver them. This means the shop is dealing with fewer people, they can order books from a selection of publishers and just have one delivery to deal with. It also means the publisher (me) doesn’t have to drive to the shops every time they need to restock. It means I could go to bookshops where I grew up and persuade them to stock my book, but I wouldn’t have to keep driving back there every time they sold a couple. This sounds brilliant. I have no idea at this stage what such a service costs – I will tell you in my future blogs. There was an online form, which had a section I didn’t understand, so I phoned them. Spoke to a receptionist, who also didn’t know, but who was nice and gave me an email address so I could write and ask. I am finding this – people are nice and generally helpful. I knew nothing (John Snow) when I started doing this, but at each tiny step, people have helped me, given me the information so I can progress to the next stage. It’s slow, but it’s not overwhelming.

I will let you know how things progress. Thanks for reading.

Take care,
Anne x

If you found this interesting, you can follow my blog at:

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Hidden Faces by Anne E. Thompson – why not buy a copy and help my dream come true….?

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Being an Author and the Rest of Life

Posted by anneethompson

First of all, thank you for reading my writing each week. I now have over 100 followers, which is very exciting! Most are people who I don’t know, from several different countries. Every time I’m notified that I have a new follower, someone who is happy for all my blog posts to be emailed to them, it means something special. Thank you everyone. I will do my best for you.

Bit of a moan now. Why, when you buy a bowl of potpourri and place a candle artistically for the downstairs loo, do people think that is good place to fling empty toilet rolls? Why? I have been ‘discussing’ this with my family for over a year now.

Also, can anyone explain to me WHY some people are so against Pokemon? When I look at Facebook, I regularly see posts saying, “If you feel stupid, just remember there are people out there catching imaginary Pokemon”, or other even more caustic comments. Why do some people feel the need to be so scathing? Personally, I cannot see the attraction of walking round looking for little cartoon creatures. But if others want to, why not? Son will meet his cousin, they’ll pop in and say hello to my Mum, then walk round town for a while, looking for Pokemon and often seeing someone else doing the same thing, which leads to a brief chat. It seems like a harmless, fairly sociable activity. Not one that appeals to me, but certainly not one I feel the need to be nasty about. I like reading psychological thrillers. These are an arrangement of words describing people who have never existed in places that are imaginary. Some people like watching telly – this is usually adults being filmed pretending they are other people doing things that have never happened. Does it matter? Relaxing and having fun is part of being human. Seems sad to me that some people need to criticise those who do it differently.

I would, however, like to abuse the creators of Tamagotchis. Have you seen them? They are ‘virtual pets’. They are aimed at children, we bought one for daughter when she was young and we lived in the US, and she was desperate for a pet. The screen had an image of a kitten. She could use the little buttons to feed it, play with it, give it medicine, etc. Above the kitten was a score, it told her if the kitten was happy or playful, or healthy. Her kitten was never happy. Or playful. Or healthy. Its score was always low. So little daughter spent hours trying to improve it, pressing buttons, watching it constantly. The score continued to drop. Husband decided to intervene, confident that he could find the right combination to create a high score. He couldn’t. After a few days of plummeting score, the image changed to a kitten lying on its back with an angel floating above it. Daughter was distraught. To her, this was a real pet and she had failed it big time. We did our best to comfort her and put the toy in a cupboard. (We were meant to reset it and let her try again, but she was so upset, I wasn’t sure we could cope with a repeat performance!) Not the most successful gift we ever bought.

There is no Lunch Club during August but that makes a very long time without seeing people for some of the members, so we try to have at least one meeting during that time. This year there’s an afternoon tea. I have made forty large scones – hope it’s enough. Also hope my family don’t discover them before I get them to the church freezer.

It is very strange being “an author”. People come and talk to me. This is mostly nice, though sometimes is difficult if I’m in a rush. So many people have told me about someone they know who I ought to write a book about! It’s funny, it seems to be the main thing that people want to tell me. Although I’ve only written fiction, I am obviously seen as the person who can write the life story of their brother or neighbour or best friend. Maybe one day I will – lots of people have certainly lived amazing lives.

Have you read my book yet? Next week I’ll give you an update on what I have learned about how larger shops select books to sell. Why not buy a copy – it’s only £7:95! I bet you can’t read the first two pages and not smile….

Thank you for reading.

Cromer – Letter to a Sister

Posted by anneethompson

I’ve just read your article about Cromer. Love it, so many memories. I thought the photo of Dad looked exactly like Son 1. When I told him this, he said it was deeply disappointing – he has been hoping for a few years now that he might have been adopted.

It’s strange how fondly I now think of Cromer. I pretty much hated it when I was young. Cold damp tents, sleeping on hard ground, absolutely NO facilities other than a tap in the corner of a field because that was what Dad considered to be ‘real camping’. Personally, I never found the attraction of ‘real camping’, how I longed for a caravan! Since having children, we did once go to a camping shop, intending to buy a tent. But as we walked around, as I smelled the canvas and heard it flapping in the wind, so many memories rushed back. I couldn’t do it. I have promised myself I will never have to camp again. Not if I’m pretending it’s a holiday.

Do you remember the earwigs? There always seemed to be millions of them. We’d lie in bed listening to them climb the sides of the tent and pinging when they dropped onto the floor. Uncle told us they were called earwigs because they climbed inside your ears and chewed through to your brain. That story didn’t much help with sleep. It was so cold, some nights we would stuff all our clothes into the sleeping bag to try and insulate it a bit.

Then there was the year when we had a plague of ladybirds. I didn’t mind them so much, but they were everywhere, swarms of them, with their hard red bodies and little black spots. We used to count the spots and try to find one for each number – do you remember? (I can understand the attraction of Pokemon when I think of the games we played in the ‘olden days’!)

So, what are your main memories when you think of Cromer? For me, it would be walking up the hill to the zoo (is that still there? It even had a tiger I think, poor thing.) Then there is the church, of course (I included Cromer church in my story Counting Stars) I can still remember that smell of old wood and musty cushions, and there was a little bookstall at the back where we bought those cartoon books of the Bible. Most photos have the church in there somewhere, it’s almost what defines Cromer. There was the town centre, which was always bursting with too many people for the width of the paths and cars which were lost and trapped in the confusing one-way system. There were the ‘amusements’ on the prom, where Dad didn’t like us going to “waste our money” and Mum used to send us when it was raining!

But mostly, there was the beach – a lovely mix of sand and rock pools. Many hours watching sea anemones curl up when we touched them and crabs burying under the sand as we tried to catch them while the sea bashed the beach. It was always a rough sea. We pretty much learned to swim there didn’t we. Nice healthy mix of near drowning while gulping mouthfuls of diluted sewage! There’s nothing like swimming beyond the break waters and being lifted and dropped by great waves, and the water always felt warmer than the beach. I don’t recall many warm days at Cromer, though there must have been some. Swimsuits and cardigans with damp sleeves.

The food was pretty rough too. Tins of stew and dehydrated mash, cooked on that little camping stove. I loved the breakfasts, we always had bacon and eggs (with tinned tomatoes, which wasn’t quite so nice.) One year Dad found mushrooms growing and ate those, and I seem to think he found wild horseradish too, though I’m not sure if he actually ate that.

Once a year we would walk to the lighthouse, which was deeply disappointing as it was on the cliff, so short and fat. Not at all like the tall slender ones in my Blue Peter annual. The heather and gorse smelled nice though, and it always felt warm up there, the sandy cliffs absorbed the heat and insulated it I guess.

Mostly though, as you wrote in your article, Cromer was about family. It was about being teased by aunties about our navy blue knickers, uncles building us boats in the sand, Granny telling us stories, Mum taking us to watch the carnival, Dad helping us to sail boats on the little boating lake. Looking back, they were happy times. At the time, I just longed for a caravan! Life’s like that isn’t it, so hard to appreciate what is actually happening.
Enjoy your week.
Take care,
Anne x

You can read my sister’s article (and see some excellent photos) here:
http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/cromer-sand-in-my-shoes.html

Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, why not buy my book? Gentle humour entwined with strong characters bumbling through life:

xxxxxxxxxxx

Selling Books – Letter to a Sister

Posted by anneethompson

Hi, how was your week?

I am feeling like bit of a plonka. Someone – a complete stranger, never met them before – asked me to sign their book, which I was very excited to do. So, they told me their name, I wrote a little message, then signed it “Love, Anne”. As you do. Except, when you are an author, signing a book, I imagine that you don’t write “Love, X” I bet JK Rowling doesn’t sign books for strangers “Love, Joanna”. Realised immediately it was an amateur mistake, but what could I do? I could hardly snatch it back and put a line through it.

Most authors have a ‘book launch’. I am not brave enough to do this. This was bit of a mistake. I hadn’t realised that local shops (possibly bigger ones too) are quite slow when restocking. They have lots of suppliers, there is no sense of urgency. So friends were going in to buy my book and being told it had sold out. I took a fresh supply, but was told by the shop that they couldn’t take them until they had done the paperwork and paid me for the books sold. There was no way round this system (I did try). The process took three days. I have no idea how many sales I lost in those few days – some people will go back, but not everyone will bother twice. Very frustrating. If I had organised a ‘book launch’, all my friends could have come in one go, seen the book, and if they liked it, they could have bought it then. This would leave the shops for the slower, less definite customers. Next time…

I also realise now how important it is to make sure my supply chain is working properly before I start advertising. (Hope you are noticing all the clever marketing phrases I have been learning.) I have now put it into more than one shop in each town, so if one sells out, the other will hopefully still have some.

A few things went badly this week actually. I also lost the chicken who thought he was a duck. (I am pretty sure he was a ‘he’ as his tail feathers were getting worryingly long.) Every day when I let him out the chicken cage he would run to the pond and peck all the ducks so they went back into the water (nasty bird.) In the evening, when the chickens all went to roost, he would try to stay by the pond, but if I chased him (dog helped) then he would follow his sister (who might be a brother, not sure yet) into the chicken cage, where he would safely roost all night. This went badly wrong on Saturday, when we met friends for dinner in London and arrived home later than expected. All the chickens were roosting, so I could just shut their door – all the chickens except for that one. He was asleep at the top of the ramp into the pond, which is as near the actual water as he ever goes. When I woke him up to move him to the cage, he charged off. Not sure if you have ever chased a chicken around a pond on a dark night with only a torch with weak batteries and an overly excited dog to help, but it’s not great. Eventually he darted into the middle of a prickly bush and refused to budge. We couldn’t reach him and he wouldn’t come out. I left him and hoped if he stayed there he might be safe. He wasn’t. Found a heap of feathers the following morning. Feeling slightly guilty (though not sure what I could’ve done differently.)

Also this week I was interviewed by the local paper. This is so not me – I’m quite a private person really. Son came for support. The reporter was very nice, but he did tend to chat about me, and I just wanted to talk about the book. You can’t “not answer” when someone asks why you stopped teaching or where you lived and when. Of course, when the article appeared, it was more about me than the book. But it was nice of him to include something. He even took a photo (which is awful, I am wearing my “I feel really silly” face.) I hope it’s a good way to let people know about my book. I loved writing it, now I would like to hide under the bed and let people buy it and recommend it to others. But no one will buy it unless I advertise it a little, so I’m forcing myself to publicise it. I have to keep reminding myself, it’s not about me, it’s about the book. And it IS a good book. It has strong, realistic characters, so by the end you feel they are real people, and you might have met them, and you want to give them some advice about the terrible decisions they are making…

Have you bought a copy yet?

Thank you for reading.

xxxxxxx

Officially an Author

Posted by anneethompson

Thank you everyone who has bought my book. I am very excited by how many have sold already (in fact, I am very excited by the whole thing. Am not being very ‘cool’ about this!) It is in four local bookshops – picture below. I realise I should have renamed myself something beginning with an earlier letter in the alphabet (did you know that Lee Child did that? His real name is something completely different, but he wanted his books to be near Agatha Christie’s!) My book will be spotted by people who like to lie on the floor in bookshops. Still extremely wonderful though.

It is very strange hearing people talk about my book. I am too close to it, when I write I climb inside the characters, so I don’t always know how other people will see them.

Here are some of the comments so far :

“The first two pages are brilliant” {I am hoping that means he’s only read two pages!}

“That Esther really moans a lot.”

“When I read the bit about {no spoilers!} I laughed for ages.”

“Is this book about me?” {NO! All the characters are fictional. Don’t start thinking that – my next one is about a psychopath!}

“No idea what your book is like – I can’t get it away from my husband!”

“It’s a real page turner.”

“Cynthia is shocking. Really shocking.”

“I cannot believe you wrote that bit!”

Have you bought a copy? When is the last time you tried a new author?

Hidden Faces by Anne E Thompson, published by The Cobweb Press. Available from Amazon:

Thank you.

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