My April Reads

Spring is finally here, hurrah! Soon I'll be able to sit out on the patio with a good book, bliss.

My bad read award this month goes to "The Pilgrimage" by Paulo Coelho. This was a book club choice and it's fair to say it got the thumbs down from all the group. I did enjoy "The Alchemist" but this is a rambling mish mash of mysticism and travelogue. Coelho is travelling across Spain on the road to Santiago De Compostela, accompanied by his guide. He is aiming to find a sword ( we never find out what this is for) and he is taught RAM exercises ( no, me neither) as part of his journey of self-discovery. This was really badly written, just mumbo-jumbo, glad I bought it second-hand!

I have really enjoyed Marina Lewycka's three previous books and "Various Pets Alive and Dead" continued this trend. She has tackled the thorny contemporary subject of immigrant workers ( in Two Caravans) whilst this book is a biting satire of the banking industry. Doro and Marcus are children of the sixties who lived in a commune and brought their children up to embrace the ideals of a free society. However, their children live very different lives and there is a lot of humour in how the whole family interacts, especially their son who desperately tries to keep his existence as a city trader a secret from them. Lewycka writes so well, her characters really sparkle and it manages to be both a funny and very touching book.

Esther Freud's "Lucky Break" was a bit of a disappointment, a real "meh" read. It follows a group of students at a drama school in London over the years, but nothing really happens. Some make it "big" but most do not. There are cliched characters galore and I really didn't care about any of them. I've read a couple of her books and had high hopes for this, but it didn't add up to much at all.

Barbara Trapido is another author I enjoy and "Sex and Stavinsky" was a real delight. Her books always contain such great characters whose lives intertwine and come together at the end like a Shakespearian comedy. The settings of Oxford and South Africa are beautifully drawn and I couldn't wait to find out what will happen to Josh, Hattie, Caroline and her truly awful mother. It is hard to describe the plot really but trust me, it's a good read!

Charlotte Rogan's debut novel "The Lifeboat" was another excellent read. A ship sinks in the Atlantic in 1914, and forty people make it onto one of the lifeboats. We first encounter Grace as she stands trial for murder. How she survives and how she ends up in jail is truly gripping and does make you think about how you would behave faced with extreme circumstances. I did like the Irish Times review "just don't read it on a cruise"! It is a very well written book and the characterisation is excellent, I couldn't put it down.

A Few Thoughts On Mrs T

I was thirteen when Mrs Thatcher became Prime Minister and twenty four when she was ousted by her own party. As a teenager, I became actively involved in the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament and fervently anti-Thatcher, much to the bemusement of my true blue parents. I have to report I WAS that earnest young woman in the John Lennon specs, wearing my badges to school and scribbling "CRUISE FREE 83" on my school bag. Whilst all my classmates in their O level English talk, gave presentations on their Spanish holiday or five-a-side football, I lectured on the CND equipped with handouts AND slides. I was so utterly convinced I was RIGHT ( still do!) with that self-righteous conviction of teenhood!
I had great times travelling the country, Greenham Common, Aldermaston, London and Barrow-in-Furness. I was a bit of a rubbish demonstrator though. I collapsed into fits of giggles when a bloke in Barrow told me to "Gerrup ya daft bugger" when I part of a "die-in" against trident missiles and at Greenham Common my symbolic red balloon did not soar away but landed, sadly in a field and was stamped on by a BLOODY FASCIST ( whom I now realise was probably a fed-up farmer!)
After rattling a few buckets for the miners, I started work in an NHS already in the midst of the disastrous reforms that have wreaked such havoc since. I joined a union, but slowly my days of political activism died away. So my hey-day of political awareness coincided with Mrs Thatcher's premiership. This was not a coincidence and I am grateful to her for politicising me, admittedly in opposition. I will always be a Labour supporter and to the left of the political spectrum, so how do I feel about the death of my nemesis of my youth?
My eighteen year old self would probably have said "good" but even then I would have winced at the terms "bitch" and "witch" that are being bandied around. There is a strong undercurrent of misogyny in these insults, which is utterly abhorrent.
My forty seven year old self also feels it is wrong to gloat over the death of an elderly woman, who died alone and in the grip of dementia. She died with only her doctor and paid help to keep her company. Both her children, knowing their mother must be close to the end, chose to be on holiday. Could they not have arranged for at least one of them to be with her?
I had a very fractious relationship with my father, whose behaviour over the years had alienated us all. Yet, in his last weeks he was never alone, I moved into his flat until he was admitted to a hospice. At the end, he died clutching the hands of myself and my brother. Mrs Thatcher would forget her husband had died, when reminded she would say, "oh, were we there?". Well, no one was there for her.
So, whilst I can understand those who lives and communities were irrevocably wrecked by her premiership raising a glass to her passing, I do think a bit of compassion is also called for. Maybe I'm getting soft, maybe I'm also recognising a major figure of my youth has gone. Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, over and out.

The photos are of me and my friends at Greenham Common in 1983. I'm the short one with a red balloon.

My March Reads

Well, spring is taking its time springing but I became more mobile this month. I'm back behind the wheel, which feels fab, and I've been increasing the lengths of my daily walks. Luckily the weather has been dry and the woods are on my doorstep, so I have no excuses not to get out in the fresh air and build up my strength.
I read four good books in March. "You Had Me At Hello" is the debut novel by Mhairi McFarlane.It is set in Manchester and tells the story of Rachel, a court reporter, who breaks up from her long-term boyfriend, only to have an old university flame arrive back in town. I enjoyed the story and thought the characters were very well written. Maybe I liked it so much as I live in Manchester and my other half knows the courts very well indeed! I did tweet the author to tell her I liked the book although I didn't think any northern bloke would say he was cooking "dinner" at "tea time". She gamely replied I was right, (of course!) I do like authors who take the time to reply to you on twitter. I've had interactions with JoJo Moyes, India Knight, Judith O'Reilly, Mary Beard, Amanda Foreman, Emma Kennedy and others. I never expect a reply but it's always nice when people take time to engage with their readers.
I read Judith O'Reilly's book on doing an act of kindness every day at the beginning of the year and enjoyed it so much I bought her earlier book, "Wife in the North". The author was pregnant with two young children when her husband persuades her to move from her beloved London, to a small village in Northumbria. Judith does write so vividly, she is very funny but can also move you to tears. The reader does feel part of this chaotic but loving family, I love the parts about her aged parents. She writes an excellent blog also called Wife in the North, well worth a read.
"Sleep With Me" by Joanna Briscoe started off really well. Richard and Leila are expecting their first child when a mysterious woman enters their lives, Sylvie ingratiates herself subtly with the couple and their friends, with disastrous consequences. I did think it lost its way, from being quite eerie and unsettling, the plot became a little too preposterous. I thought it was well written though, quite poetic and the air of unease caused by such a seemingly benign presence as Sylvie is very effecting.
My vintage read this month was "The Last of the Wine" by Mary Renault. Published in 1956, this is a novel set in Athens during the thirty year Peloponnesian war. It tells the story of Alexias and his love for Lysis. The story of his blossoming from a youth to young manhood is beautifully described and real historical figures such as Socrates, Plato and Xenophon are included in the action. I sometimes find historical fiction quite badly written and a tad "dumbed down" but this is good stuff. The prose can be quite dense at times, but it paints a very vivd picture of the golden age of ancient Athens

Tales From The Tearooms

It's been a while since I have scribbled about an afternoon tea. It was a great treat to get out over the Easter weekend and even better to go out for tea somewhere I hadn't been before.
The Edwardian in Manchester used to be The Free Trade Hall, a beautiful Victorian building built on the site of the infamous Peterloo Massacre. Until recent years it was Manchester's premier concert venue; the Halle orchestra had their home there, Bob Dylan was called a "Judas" for playing the electric guitar there and the Sex Pistols kicked off punk there.
In many ways it is sad to think a building that was such an iconic symbol of civic pride, is now a Radisson hotel, but better that than falling into decay and disrepair.
Afternoon tea is served in the Opus restaurant at the front of the building and if you are having champagne ( goes without saying) you can sit in the atrium area directly overlooking Peter Street. This is great for people-watching and on Easter Saturday hordes of hopefuls were auditioning to be extras in The Rocky Horror Show at The Opera House. Needless to say we had fun waving to the fabulously attired crowd.
The tea was utterly delicious. For £26, I had the traditional tea with champagne. This consisted of four delicious finger sandwiches, two scones with jam, an elderflower jelly, a mini lemon meringue tart, a blueberry tart and a white chocolate tart. Pots of tea were topped up on request at no extra charge. The cakes were exquisite and even I had to admit defeat and leave one scone.
My friend had the Gentleman's Tea, this included sandwiches, a mini pork pie, a mini Yorkshire pudding, mini fish, chips and mushy peas plus scones. It looked fabulous and I will order that next time. The waiters and waitresses were very friendly and attentive.
I think it is advisable to book at weekends, and I can thoroughly recommend The Edwardian for an afternoon treat that will not disappoint.

My February Reads

As I couldn't do much else this month, I read quite a bit. Nothing too taxing on the old post-anaesthetised brain, and I was prone to falling asleep many times mid-sentence. However, there is nothing more relaxing than snuggling under a cosy cover with a book, several pillows and a restorative cuppa.
My Anne Tyler read this month was an early novel, first published in 1974, "Celestial Navigation". It is the story of Jeremy Pauling, an artist who is agoraphobic and has serious issues which appear Asperger-like. He owns a boarding house and in 1961, a beautiful woman with a young child comes to stay. The story spans thirteen years, Mary and Jeremy never marry but have several children together until Jeremy's fragile state of mind, forces Mary into a decision. Once again, Tyler writes so well, you feel as if know these people, and I felt such pity for Jeremy, a man who navigates life as if by the stars, the celestial navigation of the title.
I've mentioned before that I enjoy the Isabel Dalhousie series by Alexander McCall-Smith. The latest about the Edinburgh based philosopher is called "The Uncommon Appeal Of Clouds". Isabel is asked to help investigate a case of a missing painting. I do like these gentle stories, I like the character of Isabel with her younger partner and her endless lapses into musing on the meaning of almost everything. The stories are not at all dynamic, but like an old slipper, they are comfortable to return to when required!
Barbara Kingsolver is another author I really enjoy. Her latest book, "Flight Behaviour" is excellent. Dellarobia is a young wife and mother, smothered by boredom and poverty in rural America. She accidentally discovers an environmental phenomena which brings scientists and the media to her door with life-changing consequences. Kingsolver is never didactic but I felt informed and educated by her writing on the effect global warming and other environmental issues are having on, in this case, Monarch Butterflies. By using the story of Dellarobia, the larger subject is 'humanised' and brought into every-day relevance. Farmers, like Dellarobia's in-laws, desperate to scratch a living, can earn money by de-logging but this quick fix solution leads to devastating mud slides and the further annihilation of the natural habitat of species, such as the butterfly. Increasingly wet weather, caused by global warming, adds to the air of gloom that pervades the novel. I thought it was written very well, the characters were vividly drawn as was the landscape of back-woods America.
Whilst I was in hospital, I read "I Remember Nothing" by Nora Ephron, a series of reflections on getting older. This is a particularly poignant read as Ephron died not too long after publication. It is very funny and full of bathos. It concludes with a list of things she will miss and not miss when she dies. She won't miss washing her hair or Fox TV but oh, butter and pie...I totally concur!
I also read "Maine" by Courtney Sullivan whilst in hospital and it was an ideal book for the occasion, easy to read and not too demanding! It tells the story of a family who own a holiday home in Maine, the elderly matriarch decides to bequeath it to the church, and the novel explores why she came to this decision and the effect it has on her dysfunctional family. I liked the characters, thought it was well written and it kept my interest to the end. It would make an ideal holiday read.
"Alys, Always" by Harriet Lane was another good read. When Frances, a young woman with a fairly unexciting life, comes across a car accident involving the wife of a novelist, she is drawn into the bohemian world of the bereaved family. Frances is quite a chilling character, her metamorphosis from mouse to arch manipulator is compelling, a real page turner.
Finally, to cheer myself up, when I came home, I read "Moranthology" by Caitlin Moran. This had me straining my stitches, she really is a very funny writer. I enjoyed being able to dip in and out of these essays, mostly previously published columns in The Times.

Phewee

So..off we went to the consultant to hear the results of the pathology of my ovarian mass. I've been through this before, I know if there is a nurse with him, and a box of tissues in a prominent position, it's not good news. There was no nurse in the room, the doctor leapt up and shook my hand, beaming. He gave me the report to read, and all I could see was the conclusion, it wasn't cancer, it was endometrial tissue.
The term, "a weight was lifted off my shoulders" is such a cliche, but honestly, I felt like I could float away with relief. My husband looked stunned. I couldn't wait to phone my daughter, my mum, my mother-in-law, my best friend.
There is an advert on television at the moment for Macmillan nurses and it states that over 800 people a day in the UK are told they have cancer. Today it wasn't me and I am so profoundly grateful but others aren't so lucky.
I'm still rather sore but I am not complaining! I am not complaining about anything for now. Life is so sweet.
Thank you to all of you who left comments on my blog or on twitter. I've been truly grateful for all your kind words. Spring is just around the corner, the days are lighter and I am happy.

Post Op

Well, that was a start to the year I did not envisage. A seemingly routine trip to the GP and I am now writing this, lying on the sofa without many of my "lady parts"!
I had a cancerous polyp removed from my bowel seven years ago. It was caught early and after a spot of internal plumbing, I was as right as rain. To be honest, I thought " well, that's my brush with cancer done" and slid back into normality. I am getting to an age where menstrual patterns become less predictable, so when I had a period that lasted a lot longer than normal, I wasn't going to bother going to the doctor, but my husband insisted. My GP is lovely and recommended some hormone tests, I asked if I could have the ca125 test too. This is a marker for ovarian cancer. This came back slightly raised so I was sent for an ultra sound. "Was that ok?" I asked the radiographer, I had trotted off on my own to hospital as I had no reason to worry. "No," she said, reluctant to meet my eye, " you've got something on your ovary which needs urgent investigation." It's strange how your whole life can suddenly come crashing around you. An hour before I'd been wondering what to get for tea and now, well I feared the very worst.
I went to see a consultant who now talked of a "mass" and was sent for an MRI scan which I wept all the way through. I wish I could tell you that I am brave but I'm not. I cried and cried for days, for my poor, bewildered husband, for my daughter on the cusp of adulthood. All I could envisage was their lives without me. I was a nurse many aeons ago, and if there is a worst case scenario, I will plump for that. Ovarian cancer is known as "the silent killer", mine was a 12cm mass that had given me no symptoms at all. I was pole-axed with fear and grief.
The MRI was not as bad as we had feared, the consultant spoke in quietly reassuring tones, he used words such as "curable" "Grade 1" "no evidence of spread" words that I held onto for hope.
Last week I went into The Christie and had a full hysterectomy and half omentumectomy. As I had previous bowel surgery, it wasn't too straight forward, but all things considered, I am recovering well. The skills of the surgeons and the anaesthetist were brilliant. However, it is the love and care of my friends and family that has left me so humbled. My increasingly hysterical texts and phone calls have been answered with unswerving patience. My daughter's friends and parents have shown such kindness. I have been inundated with flowers and cards, texts, tweets and emails. A lady I have never met, except on Twitter, sent a bouquet from Edinburgh. My mum and mum-in-law, both in their seventies, have worked out a rota so one is always here, cooking, cleaning, nurturing and loving.
I am beginning to feel a little more like my old self now, I'm reading lots and listening to plenty of Radio 4. Have you ever made the mistake of watching daytime tv? Oh, it truly is awful. I cannot drive for six weeks but I sat out in the winter sun today and turned my face towards it with relish.
I am seeing my consultant this week, I hope I can face whatever comes next with a little more courage than I've shown. I love my life, I'm not ready to leave it just yet.