Author: susanjeaton

I have had time to ponder this Christmas; pondering, beyond how to remove glitter from soft furnishing and dinner plates. (See previous post)   Now that the twelve days are almost over I find I have come to the conclusion that there are some serious myths surrounding the festive season.

Myth 1: Sprouts need to be put to boil until reduced to a pulp

This is indeed a myth. Owing to a series of unfortunate incidents (see previous post) my sprouts were still growing in my garden as late as 12.05 pm on Christmas afternoon and not boiling away as they should have been.

Result? Gorgeous sprouts served without any fussy dressing after a gentle 15 minute steam.

Well, we liked them and there were none left.

Myth 2: Christmas is expensive.

Sometimes the simplest things are the best.

My sister brought me a cup of tea in bed. I never thought I would have a cup of tea brought to me in bed, the right side of a hospital ward, ever again.

I rate a cup of tea in bed beyond diamonds. It was simply the best present this Christmas. Thank you, Linda.

Myth 3: Goodwill to all is for Christmas

Last year I missed a snowflake on the kitchen door when taking down the decorations. Once noticed, I decided not to remove it as it reminded me that goodwill should be extended to all throughout the year and not just at Christmas.

God bless us, everyone. May your New Year be everything you wish.

December 25th 

7.22 am

Heaven Forefend! It’s nearly half past seven and I need to be out of the house by half eight at the latest. I have my granddaughters’ Christmas presents and they’ll be expecting me. I know it shouldn’t take an hour to get showered and dressed but the sprouts are still growing and everyone knows they should have been put to boil in the summer if they’re to be ready for Christmas dinner.

I set the alarm for 7 but as the church clock was striking 4 when I fell into bed it’s hardly surprising I slept through it. Also, I need 2, preferably 3 cups of tea before I can face the world. Especially after 3-ish hours sleep.

7.54 am

I am showered and airing. I like to air myself before I dress. When your joints seize up at inopportune moments you can’t be sure your crevices are dry enough not to chafe when underpinnings are applied. Therefore, I air. It is not negotiable, even when short on time. (Except in hospitals. Hospitals have their own rules and are not to be tampered with. See previous post – What I did on my holidays)

7.57 am

I have a glitter related incident. I spray my hair with glitter as it is Christmas but when I remove my finger from the button the glitter forgets to stop.

As a result the settee, the sideboard and I are covered with glitter. So is the conservatory as I race through to put the can outside to spray the garden in peace.

Away from the sprouts, I might add, as they are still growing.

This sets me back quite a bit.

8.14 am

I throw as much bacon over the turkey crown as I can, pour on some mixed dried herbs. (The bay and rosemary – like the sprouts – are still growing.)

It’s soaking outside. A fine mist is penetrating every crevice and I’ve glitter sprayed my hair – quite savagely, as it turns out. They can stay growing.

8.19 am

I dig out the Christmas pudding left over from last year. It should be okay, except it wasn’t last year – it was 2008. I dust it off and bin it. We have festive cheesecake and oodles of cheese and port. No one will care  if they have enough port. They might not notice the sprouts are still growing if we start drinking early enough. Note to self – must dig out that bottle of Madeira I found in the back of the cupboard.

8.23 am

I find time to look at the carnage I’ve left. I have guests for Christmas dinner. I know its daughter and her boyfriend but when you invite someone you can’t really expect them to start by washing up and picking their own veg. It’s hardly etiquette. And let’s not forget the fine mist of glitter over the dining table which I set last night. I shall just have to pretend that was part of the festive plan. It’s sparkly. Lauren likes sparkly – I shall tell her so.

8.26 am

The car is soaking. I can’t see out of the windows so set to wiping them dry while the engine warms up. By the time I finish the first are misted up again. I do one more round before loading the presents.

Oops, nearly forgot to get the cheesecake out of the freezer.

8.38 am

Ready to go. The spouts are still growing but what the €µ©ꝅ!

It appears that everyone has left the planet apart from me, a few geese and a lone dog walker. Could I make the 9 miles across the centre of town in 7 minutes?

No.

Did the sprouts ever make it to the table?

Follow me to find out. Merry Christmas!

Decs are up, pressies wrapped – some even delivered, cards written and posted, fish clean. I’ve even been out for some festive socialisation a couple of times. Well, 4 actually, last week. Anyone who knows me will wonder what has happened. No more waiting until the bells ring out for Midnight Mass to cause panic preparations.

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There’s just one tiny detail…

My husband, Mike 8-shed Eaton was a bit of a DIY fan. So much of a fan to be exact that I never dared suggest we decorate the house for Christmas in case I came home to find a new wall in progress – or one gone. Despite continual training he never learnt that by ‘decorate for Christmas’ I meant tinsel and not plaster or new tiles in the bathroom.

The tiny detail I have struggled with this year is the lack of a large sack of plaster where the Christmas tree goes. It was one of those things that might come in handy even if you never use it – which we never did. As much as I complained about it long and hard for numerous years it did provide a nice guide as to where the tree should stand without it looking squashed. Covered with artificial snow it provided a neat bench for Father Christmas to sit on and kept the presents from the underfloor heating.

I got rid of it fairly quickly but now find I miss it. The snow just looks a mess and Santa has had to sit on the shelf above. There’s nowhere to put the pressies.

Mind you, I did forget to tell my son that the old kitchen sink leaks so we had a bit of a flood on Friday but all’s well that ends well. I don’t think I could cope without some DIY at inconvenient times.

  As I’ve finished so early I think I’ll have a cup of tea.

I had a lovely night at Hanley Library. Not only did I spend time with like-minded friends but I sold a book! Yeahhh.

I popped back into the sixteenth century on Sunday for an Elizabethan Christmas. I was rather hoping it would get me started on preparing for my own celebrations.

The infamous ‘Grape of Death’ trick had us holding our breaths for fear the jester might choke. Not nearly as scary as his hobby horse, though.

I really go to listen to the Elizabethan Christmas music, preferable to the commercial stuff we hear today.

Some little sweetheart out there thinks that my story, ‘The Toy Shop’ is epic! Thank you. Well done to Wondra Vanian (In my Day) and Mark A Smart (A Dark Reflection), also mentioned in despatches.

I love Wondra’s story too and Mark’s does not help my problem with mirrors – and what may lurk behind them.

Why not try my debut novel, ‘The Woman Who Was Not His Wife’?

It is not a typical science-fiction  novel but contains elements of fantasy, horror and romance and is designed to be a thought-provoking reflection of our own society.

… is easy to wrap and fits snugly in a Christmas stocking.

I am lucky enough to have an extensive herb garden. It is the only place to be on a warm summer day. It is quiet and peaceful, rich with relaxing scents and warm in the sunshine. It is a place I invariably go in order to think and write. Mind you, things can happen to spoil the peace. Awful things. During the summer I had made a cup of my special coffee in my special gardening mug and was sitting watching the weeds grow when I heard a loud and determined buzz and an equally loud plop … in my coffee. A bee – a kamikaze bee at that. I poured this delicious cup of my special brew onto the flags and out fell the bee. Unfortunately, those few seconds it took me to decide that a bee had flown into my elevenses meant that it was curtains for the bee. Legs in the air, it lay there on the flags in a cooling puddle of beverage.

I now use a mug with a lid. The bee population is in enough trouble without them dropping into hot drinks.

Now that the weather has turned I spent a delightful morning this week grinding the herbs I had collected and dried at the end of the summer.  The smell in my kitchen was divine and I was able to find an ending for a short story, ‘Perchance to Dream’ that had me stumped for some time. Happy days.

Keep following if you want to read ‘Perchance to Dream’. Coming soon.

Last week was Anti-bullying week but we all know that this is an age old problem that seems to persist. So, like that puppy, anti-bullying awareness is not just for one week in November but for everyday.

Unfortunately, however evolved we consider humankind to be, we are human and bullying will continue unless the target finds a way to confront and deal with it. It’s easy for those on the outside to offer suggestions but the very nature of bullying precludes that. You need to be an exceptionally strong, self confident person to overcome such abuse and bullies will always play to our weaknesses.

Sometimes the bullying is more subtle and creeps up on us unawares as happens to Alex in ‘Visible Ink’. Sometimes we are so used to the dynamics of a friendship that we can allow ourselves to be dominated by the stronger personality. We never consider that this is bullying but any behaviour that makes us uncomfortable over a period of time is so.

S. L. Powell’s gentle story of two young friends explores this concept and we discover that there are two sides to the relationship. Alex feels that he is being unfairly treated by his friend but how is Lennie feeling?

This is just the book to help young people deal with the challenges that occur in all our lives.

The author suggests the book is for 9 – 12 year olds which covers the move from primary to secondary education, but I feel that it has a magic that will appeal to all ages.

As a former teacher of children with social, emotional and developmental needs I whole-heartedly recommend this book to anyone who has a child who may be struggling with self-esteem.

I’m still convalescing, unable to drive so I have had more time to read than of late. I have been lucky enough to have had a story included in The Corona Book of Science Fiction and this has prompted me to read the other tales.

It’s up to you to decide what you think of my story, but I found the rest of the book fascinating in its diversity. Star Wars it is not but a carefully arranged selection of thought-provoking short stories.

If you are considering science fiction but are not sure where to start this is as a good a place as any. From human nature in ‘First Contact’, to alien nature in ‘Ribbon World’, there is something for everyone. You can be thrown millennia into the future in ‘The Souvenir’ or experience a near miss today in ‘Let the Bells Ring Out’.

If you are an ardent sci-fi fan, then it’s a definite must buy. Something for the Christmas stocking? 

http://www.coronabooks.com

http://www.amazon.co.uk

November is the month of remembrance, starting with All Souls on November 1st when we think about those we have known and lost. My Dad’s birthday was on November 1st. My mother always considered him a lost soul.

Bonfire Night is also an act of remembrance as we commiserate –  sorry – celebrate the fact that Guy Fawkes failed to blow up the Houses of Parliament.

As Remembrance Sunday approaches I thought I would share the impressions I brought back from a trip to the trenches and war graves in northern France and Belgium.

There’s an absence here.      
It pulls at the soul as if
Looking for substance.

God is forbidden,
Excluded, shut out, dismissed,
Buried beneath mud.

In the silence, no
Birds sing; only the poppy
Grows, red in the sun.