Merry Christmas - Happy Holidays!

Whatever your beliefs, I am sure that over this festive period you will be celebrating something. Maybe a birthday or two so - Happy Birthday.

Personally I am very happy that 2019 is almost over. It hasn't been a good year as I've been on the sick list for most of it. I needed surgery and the NHS came up trumps - they paid for it to be done privately. I think it was due to my age. I reached 80 in April. No, no celebrations but I did received two greetings cards with the age on them!

Recovery from the surgery has been slow, but I am getting there - as they say. I am now hoping to be fit enough to do some cruising in 2020 - watch this space!

All the best for 2020 - and here's to a peaceful New Year. Lots of love to you all. 

The Repair Shop - great television

If you haven’t watched this BBC programme let me recommend it. Especially if you want to see damaged items repaired. Not just any old items but well used ones being lovingly mended by experts. Maybe beloved family reminders, others may have been dropped and a few are antiques.

Running the shop – as it were – is furniture restoration expert Jay Blades. Watch carpenter Will Kirk, especially as he carves a new piece of wood to match the antique he is repairing. (My carpenter Grandfather would have loved to watch him). Then there are brother and sister Steve and Suzie Fletcher. He is an expert on clocks and watches and she works wonders with leather. Also in some of the programmes are Kirsten Ramsay who deals with ceramics (ever seen the number of pieces a dropped plate can create?) Dominic is the blacksmith and I mustn’t forget the doll ladies who clean up, re-make or whatever it takes to bring over-loved dolls and teddy bears back to life.

These wonderful experts – and others – are at The Repair Shop at the Weald and Downland Living Museum in Singleton, West Sussex. I should emphasise that they aren’t there 24/7 but plying their trades for this really interesting television show.

For more information you can contact

BBC.co.uk/shows and tours/takepart/the_repair_shop

In Love with Georgette Heyer

I was first introduced to the books of Georgette Heyer in my early teens when a teacher read ‘Friday’s Child’ to us.

Over the decades I have read all of her books – Regency and Mystery – several times. I suspect that every teenaged girl read the Regency novels as romances. But after reading them when a bit older you realise that they are a brilliant insight into High Society in that period. Whenever you read them a second – or more – times you begin to see how witty (in some cases – hilarious) they are.

Georgette Heyer researched everything about that period – clothes, food, transport, manners, speech. She became an expert on the period and was a bloody good writer.

In the 1960s I was working for a mining magazine and it turned out that one ‘elderly’ gentleman there had been a mining engineer and was friends with Georgette Heyer’s husband – who had also been a mining engineer. When I told him how much I admired the writer’s work he said he would introduce me. Unfortunately he died before that could happen.

Thanks to Amazon Kindle I am now beginning my own collection of Georgette Heyer books.

Incidentally, Joan Aiken Hodge wrote a superb biography of Georgette Heyer entitled ‘The Private World of Georgette Heyer'. Paperback available on Amazon.

Winter Shopping

Yes, I know it is only autumn but for me any temperature below 16c (61f) is cold!!! I do try to put off switching on any heating (fortunately heaters in each room - don't have central heating!) until absolutely necessary. And, no, not yet into the thermals! Well, got to have something extra put on when it gets really, really, really cold.

Of course - as for most of us - this is the time to start checking the winter clothing. Two pairs of trousers and a jacket from Bon Marche. Unfortunately I seemed to have something wrong with my brain the first time I went in there and bought size 20. Eh????? Obviously took them back and changed them for the smaller size (no not telling you!). Fortunately the jacket was too tight round the armholes so I just changed that. It actually made me look like the Michelin Man (remember him?).

Just ordered a jacket on line. The only colour available in my size was 'ochre' a yellowish colour. Wanted the blue (what I call peacock blue but think it has changed its name these days). Have no idea whether the colour will suit me but we will find out when it is delivered.

Sweaters? Got plenty of them and am currently knitting a twin set - cardi in scarlet and pullover in yellow. Should cheer me up! 

Kissing a dolphin in the waters just off Mexico
(in the Gulf of Mexico).
A reminder of warmer days! 

Trouble in Trewith Green

This is the opening of the 5th Cleo Marjoribanks murder mystery. Not a good start to the day when a body is found outside her home....

As I pulled up in front of the elegant Georgian house I had to sigh. So beautiful. No, I'm not jealous

of friend's home. If I lived in one like this I'd have to quieten down and become more ladylike. My Edwardian mock-Tudor is better for a slightly overweight, red-headed Eastender driving a Land Rover around the New Forest.

'Come on through to the kitchen, Cleo,' Paula Linley invited me in.

Informal then, I mused as I followed her down the hall. Wonder what this urgent matter is all about? Hope it's nothing to do with Maggie. She's Paula's teenage daughter who hasn't, yet, discovered boys.

'Morning, Stella,' I greeted the young woman sitting at the table, a mug of coffee in front of her.

'Morning, Cleo. Thanks for coming over. I am afraid that it is my fault,' the clipped accent told me.

'Coffee?' Paula asked as I sat down.

'Please. Any gingerbread?'

'No, but I do have some bun loaf.'

'Great. And lashings of butter, please.'

Once we were settled I looked from one to the other of them. 'What's up?'

Paula waved a hand in Stella's direction. 'It's your story.'

The younger woman sighed. 'You know my Mother and Paula were at school together?' The milk chocolate brown eyes looked at me. I nodded.

'Well there was another lady who was at school with them. Caroline Warner.'

Paula took up the story. 'She married Jonathan and they have two daughters.'

Why the life story? 'And all this is interesting because.....?' I asked.

Stella ran a hand through her fluffy brown hair. Hey! She's got some highlights. Should have noticed that before. 'The thing is, Cleo, you will think I am making things up.'

'Such as an overactive imagination?'

'Maybe.'

'Spit it out.'

'What?'

I grinned. 'Sorry, one of my Gran's sayings.' I waved a hand at her. 'Go on.'

'Caroline died of cancer a couple of years ago.'

'And?' Unfortunately too many people still die of cancer.

'Her husband died a couple of weeks ago.'

Silence.

'What of?' I finally asked.

'Fell off a ladder.'

Yeah, that'll do it. 'I assume he was quite high up or something?'

Stella nodded. 'Cleaning the gutters.'

Another silence and Stella finished her coffee. Replacing the mug on the table she took a deep breath. 'The thing is, Cleo, I don't think that was an accident.'

'As in was he pushed?'


https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01DJBANEO

Also available on KOBO. 

'MURDER IN MITCHAM PARVA'

Here is the opening to the fourth Cleo Marjoribanks murder mystery.....

I don't believe it!  Only back from Spain for a few weeks and there's another body. No, I haven't found another one as I did when David and I were on holiday.  Apparently there's been a murder in another village in the Forest - that's the New Forest in Hampshire.

This morning before Mrs. Walsh - who 'does' for me - had unpacked her overall and put on the kettle (sorry - switched on the kettle) she was in full spate with the news.

'Had a terrible shock,' she told me in her New Forest burr. 'Linda's dead.'

'Who?'

'My friend, Linda'

'Sorry to hear that.  Was she ill?'

'No-o-o.  Murdered.'  She wrung her hands.  Yeah, honest she did.  She only needed a puzzled look from me to continue, 'Her husband found 'er in the garding this morning.  She went out to bingo in their church 'all last night and didn't come 'ome.'

'Wasn't he worried?'

She shook her head which is now a strange chocolate brown with blue tips and whispered. 'Separate bedrooms.'

'He wouldn't know she'd stopped out.'

'Right, but I don't know why 'e didn't notice at breakfast.'

'Letting her have a lie in?'

'Nah.  She works at Mitcham Manor.  Cleaning, like me, so she'd 'ave ter be up early.'

'You said she was murdered?' I reminded her.

'Head bashed in.'

Yup, that'd kill someone. 'Oh dear.  How did you find out?'

'One of their neighbours phoned ter tell me and ask if I've got 'n hour or two ter spare today if they need someone ter fill in at the Manor.'

Her phone played 'My Way' - she's a Frank Sinatra fan - and she rummaged in her bag for it. That's when I noticed that her nails match the blue in her hair.

When she'd finished the call and was jotting something in her Filofax I asked, 'Why do you still have a Filofax? You can put all that info onto the phone.'

'Don't know how to. This is a new one my 'usband give me.' She snorted. 'A phone's a phone. That's all I need. It's easier ter plan my weeks with the Filofax.'

Rather like me and my calendar. Incidentally, she's a bit older than me.  I think somewhere in her fifties and, so my friend Paula tells me, is always formal. Calls all her clients Mrs. or Miss - whatever. We've decided it must be a family trait as it seems all her family worked in service. You know, maids and things in the big houses.

Mug of tea and two biscuits later Mrs. Walsh finally got started on the work and I went to my office - or study or whatever you want to call it - and phoned Paula.



Sorry, but the cover seems to have gone AWOL!

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00V3CX074

Also available on Kobo. 

Lovely morning but....

Summer has arrived - hurray! And this morning my writer friend, Roberta Grieve, and I met for coffee. As we are both busy ladies with our writing we don't get together often enough so there is always lots to talk about.

Except.... this morning when we were sitting inside the cafe - with its doors open - and had difficulty hearing each other because of a very loud street singer (C&W) 'entertaining' shoppers. Bad enough having to put up with 'background music' inside shops without being force-fed it when trying to enjoy cup of coffee and chat. Time to find another coffee shop - away from the madding crowd!

Left me wondering how many customers, like us, the shops in London Road, Bognor Regis, lose due to the unwanted noise?

Wake up, Bognor, when people are shopping or wanting to chat they DON'T need intrusive noise. 

'A Favourite Aunt' by Christina.

This is the opening to my book 'A Favourite Aunt' based on events that happened to many women in the 1960s. This was before the Marital Laws changed in the early 1970s thus making it easier for women - they could get restraining orders on their abusive husbands! Prior to that they either 'put up' with the abuse or did what I did - left! Unfortunately the law was still on the side of the husbands. 

'I can't thank you enough for your help, Christina,' the distinguished white-haired gentleman sitting across from her raised his glass to the grey-eyed woman whose dark hair showed auburn lights.

The woman smiled fondly at him. 'No problem, Robert. With the support you and Mary

have given me over the years, it's the least I could do.'

'But your comments and corrections have made the book so much better.' Actor Robert Denby had now completed his autobiography to the publisher's satisfaction and had brought Christina to his favourite restaurant tucked away in the City of London. Away from autograph hunters. 'The time you spent on the manuscript must have cut into your work time.'

'Don't worry about it. It does me good to get away from my own writing. That is why I also write travel articles.'

'Ah yes. As when I take a break from Shakespeare and do something a little more lighthearted.'

They continued with their meal, then Robert, his brown eyes twinkling, surprised his companion. 'Christina, why don't you write your autobiography?'

'What?' She grinned, her eyes open wide in surprise. 'I'm not famous. No one would buy it, even if I managed to get it published.'

'Okay, so you're no Agatha Christie, but your travel books do sell well.'

'Not phenomenally. Why do you think I also went out to work until I almost reached retirement age? I needed a steady income to pay the bills.'

'Mmm. It's a pity you never bought your own place.'

'You know why I couldn't. I'm a woman. Back in the 1960s women couldn't get a mortgage.' She grinned ruefully, 'Not that that would have helped many of us. Our wages only just covered the rent on a bed-sit with hot and cold running water and a gas ring.'

'Which is why you should write your autobiography. To let people know how hard life was for single women of our generation and in your circumstances especially. I often wonder how many of you survived to make a success of your lives?'

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B072LK5GNV
Also available in paperback and

Available on KOBO. 

Rock'n'Roll Murders

Like nostalgia? This story goes back to the late 1950s - Elvis Presley was doing his national service! Long John Silver and the Pirates had a record climbing the charts and in the summer were doing a tour along south coast resorts. All going very well until someone killed the Assistant Stage Manager. Here is the opening:

Before he had even cut off the last note of the song the audience was cheering and clapping.  As he finished, bowed and waved, Harry Jones was awed by the adulation.  It was incredible that after all his years in the business it had taken this rock and roll invasion from America – and his new incarnation – to bring about such success.

He turned to his backing group, The Pirates (Sid and Johnny on guitars and Olly on drums) to thank them and invited the audience to applaud them.  If it wasn’t for them he wouldn’t be here now.  He was the new “teenage” sensation, Long John Silver, a glittering figure in silver trousers and blouson top.  With, of course, the regulation black hair cut in the style made popular by film stars such as Tony Curtis (and copied by Elvis Presley who, now doing his military service, sported a much shorter cut) – a quiff on top and the sides brushed back into the style called a DA (duck’s arse).

The Pirates?  They were dressed as pirates in black trousers, white frilly shirts, red bandanas and long black hair tied back at the nape.

“Oh!  Wow! You’re fantastic!” Harry told the audience.

“No, you are!”

“I love you, Long John!”

“You’re the best!”

These were just some of the replies from the teenagers in front of him.

Having entertained them with his new song, he broke into the one they had all been waiting for – his latest hit.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007BBJMB4

ALSO available on KOBO

War Records - Family info

My Dad was in the RAF during World War 2, but he rarely spoke about his experiences. I did learn from Mum that he was supposed to be trained as a pilot. As he didn't want to do that he overstayed a 24hr pass. Ended up in the camp 'prison' but didn't care. He was the only one there and was very happy to have his sketch pad and pencils with him. At night the two guards went off duty and left him with the keys - in case of an air raid. Very trusting.

His next non-experience was driving a lorry which he crashed. (He was a lousy driver!)

So, not knowing exactly what he did during the war I did some internet research. He was with 110 Repair and Salvage Unit. I do know he was stationed in a couple of places in the UK, one being Blackpool. Can't remember the other camp and, of course, there may have been some other(s). In 1945 he was in Italy, somewhere near Venice - have some of his watercolours to prove it! As well as snaps that he took en route from wherever they landed (from a ship) to Venice.

If you are looking for information about about anyone who served during the war the web site is:

www.forces-war-records.co.uk/namesearch

Back to writing - at last!

Having been ill most of this year I haven't been able to get into the writing mode but.... At last!

I had an idea based on World War II - which I lived through as a child. Started listing things that I remembered - went to several pages! Now I am trying to fill out each point so that I can see what I have that can be used but.... have not idea yet what genre it will be in. A case of watch this space.

In the meantime I have now put my books onto Kobo in addition to Amazon Kindle (where some are in paperback format). 

Got my Mojo back!

Hi everyone,

Sorry I've been a bit 'slow' this year but I was, unfortunately, unwell (to say the least). I ended up having surgery and am now gradually getting my act together.

Now, as well as having my books on Amazon Kindle they are available on Kobo. (Paperbacks of some are available on Amazon).

Will try to keep you updated.

Sky Arts Painting Programmes

Two of my favourite television programmes are Sky Arts Portrait Artist of the Year and Sky Arts Landscape Artist of the Year. I suspect because art is in my blood – my father was an artist – watercolour, pastel and pencil and I loved watching him at work. Yes, of course, he helped me with school projects!

Portrait Artist of the Year

It is fascinating watching the artists at work. Their models are three celebrities with three painters per celebrity each week. Oils, acrylic, watercolour, pastel, charcoal, pencil and even scratching on metal. Incredible. The winner gets to paint a commissioned portrait of a celebrity. This year it was Sir Tom Jones and, as he was relaxed, I saw a whole other side to him.

Landscape Artist of the Year.

Nine artists a week are taken outdoors to paint – maybe a castle, a house, ruins, gardens, coastline, mountains. As with the portraits a variety of mediums are used. One that recently amazed me was a lady with fabrics and a sewing machine!

………

I don’t envy the judges – artist Tai-Shan Shierenberg, Arts Curator Katherine Soriani and Art Historian Kate Bryan. They have a very hard job, but neither do I always agree with their choices! It would be a boring world if we all liked the same things.

And the programmes are brilliantly presented by Dame Joan Bakewell and – for a light touch – Stephen Mangen.

Although the programmes are shown on Sky Arts, they are repeated on Channel 4.

Cleaning Ladies I Have Known

The first – and best – cleaning lady I had was in the 1970s when living in Mallorca. Rosario was fantastic. She came in for a couple of hours a week to clean up after me and, if I left any clothes lying around she would take them and do them with her family wash. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t get them back until the following week and was doing 7 days a week/10 or 12 hours a day so got through a lot of clothes!

I have had a lot of cleaning ladies over the years, some were good but there were some who left a lot to be desired.

In the late 1980s when living in London I tried a cleaning lady. First tip – if your cleaning lady tells you she takes off her glasses to do the work because she doesn’t want to break them – don’t employ her! As the weeks went by I began to get a tad suspicious. Then one evening when I got home I could smell cigarette smoke. Got me thinking. We had a man who came to cleaning the communal areas and I had a word with him. He thought she wasn’t doing the two hours so next time he arrived before her and parked his van in the car park. She arrived – and about 15 minutes later she left. We reckoned she went in, made a cuppa and had a fag then left. Bye-bye!

Other funny things some ladies have done/not done…..

Unwrapped a package of 12 loo rolls and lined them up on the floor (along the wall). As she had thrown the wrapper away I ended up with 12 individually wrapped loo rolls. (Kitchen paper, of course).

When interviewing I emphasized that due to my disabilities the most important jobs for them were dusting and using the vacuum cleaner. Without exception they insisted in starting in the kitchen and leaving the vaccing until last. Consequently only the centre of the living room carpet, one push up the hallway and around the bed and that’s yer lot!

It seems to me that if you want a cleaning lady to do the job properly you need to supervise. Of course you also have to listen to her life story and who did her wrong during the past week.

And friends keep telling me that now I am 80 years old and disabled I should have a cleaning lady!!!!!

Ghosts in the Guest House

Here is the opening to Book 3 of the Cleo Marjoribanks Murder Mysteries.....

'Thank gawd we came Business Class and were first off the plane,' I commented as we reached a crowded Passport Control.  'I thought Arrivals at Gatwick was bad enough.'

'Come on, love, EU Passports over here.' David touched my elbow and guided me in the right direction.  What would I without my friendly cop?  He is a Detective Chief Inspector in Hampshire, where we live.

We had just flown into Malaga for this well earned holiday and, of course, to get away from a wet English summer.

'I'm still not quite sure how it's happened that you got away.  Especially now that the murderous culprit is behind bars.  Didn't the Super want you to stay for all the Whoop-de-do?’

DCI 'Steaming' Kettle sighed and repeated - for the umpteenth time, 'That's all over bar the paperwork.  I've done my lot, now the rest of the team can get on with theirs.  There's nothing more for me to do.  And I'm owed holiday time.  Just be thankful that no one got knocked off just before we left.  Go on, your turn.'  He shoved me forward towards the booth to show my passport. (Wondering why Kettle has the nickname of Steaming?  Think about it.)

It doesn’t seem like it was only a few weeks ago that someone killed three people and abducted me.  The plan was to kill me but the cavalry arrived in time.   This clever clogs had killed three victims in three different ways. 

Once we'd collected our suitcases we headed for the car rentals area to deal with paperwork and collect the keys for a silver Mercedes Benz C220.

I gave them to David and he gave them back.  'You drive, Cleo, I'll navigate.  If you try to find the way we'll either end up in Madrid or Gibraltar.'

Bloody cheek! I sighed.  'Okay, but don't criticise my driving.'  Not that he's ever done so in the past but there's always a first time.  Anyway, we got to the hotel in one piece with no wrong turnings.

The welcome was terrific.  No sooner had I stopped the Merc at the foot of a flight of steps leading up to the front door than a fit young man ran down them to collect our cases.  And standing in the doorway was a very impressive man with a pencil thin moustache and one of them tufts of beard on his chin.  Reminded me a bit of Peter Cushing.  'Reckon he's the owner?' I whispered to David.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B010ZSYL38
.

'Dirty Deeds in Downdene'

This is the opening of Book 2 of the Cleo Marjoribanks series. 

There I was doing my vastly improved dog-paddle up and down the pool when the phone rang.  Yeah, I know that like all modern marvels it can answer itself but, I dunno, it sounded urgent.  I made it to the steps and clambered out, grabbed a towel and picked up the receiver as it was about to self respond.

“Hello.”

“Queen of the Nile, how’re you doing?”

“Hi, Primrose.  I’m fine.  You?”

“Fine!  Fine!”  This was said airily and I grew suspicious of my crime journalist friend.

“Really?  So to what do I owe the honour of this call?”  A peal of laughter came down the wire and I held the receiver away from my ear so that she didn’t split me ear-drum.  Prim is a sweet girl, born on Primrose Day and as her surname’s Day, her parents got a bit carried away.  (Primrose Day?  19^th April, the anniversary of the day Disraeli died and, as primroses were his favourite flowers Queen Victoria had the day so named in his memory).  When I first knew Prim her hair was braided and trimmed with hundreds of beads.  Noisy.  Now she’s got it short and curly.  Natural like.  She’s black, beautiful and works on one of the national dailies.

“Not much gets past you does it, Cleo?”

“At my size, ducks, no.  So, why are you calling?”

“Well, I hear lover boy’s got himself another murder to investigate.”

I frowned.  “Really?  How did you hear about this before me?”  Not fair.  David hadn't mentioned it.  That's DCI 'Steaming' Kettle and my lover.

“Contacts,” Prim responded succinctly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright.  So what are you calling me about?”

“Thought you might have some idea about it, but as I’ve been the bearer of the news I guess you don’t know anything.”

“You guess right and I’m not going to get involved this time.”

.....................................

Secret..... Cleo doesn't learn to play golf but she knows some people who do!

E-book version:  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B008ORNGCU

Paperback:  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B008ORNGCU

Homicide in Hampshire

Opening of Chapter 1.....

I snatched up the phone in the pool room (using me skirt to hold it, of course.  No point in reading mystery novels and doing it all wrong), all the while staring at the thing in the pool.  It had to be Janet Spencer.  It was wearing her dress.  And there was red in the water.  I knew she was dead and, while talking to the police, I wondered how I was so sure she was dead.  I know I should have jumped into the pool to get her out and begin resuscitation but…  The thought of what I might see made me gaga, so I scarpered, at least as best me high-heels would let me!  (As I can’t swim, it probably wouldn’t have been a good idea anyway.)

I shot off straight down the hall, grabbed handbag and keys from the table near the door then scrabbled with the door locks.  Why are they always a problem when you’re in a hurry?  At last I was out in the night air and could take deep breaths. 

And don’t ask me why I was in the pool room when I’d just come home.  If you walk indoors and see lights on that shouldn’t be on what would you do?  No, not what I should have done – panicked.  I went to investigate.  Course it wasn’t until later that I realised I’d been stupid.

It felt like I was standing outside for ages before I heard the cops arrive.  Blue light flashing and siren moaning, just like a sick cow.

The car pulled up in front where I was leaning against the wall by the open front door.

E-BOOK:  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005LO72BA

PAPERBACK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/152017098X

Referendum for Brexit

I suspect that most of us 'ordinary' people believe that when a referendum is held the result is binding. That the Government should implement what their electorate want.

Unfortunately that is not true. Holding a referendum is merely to make people think they are helping to make important Governmental decisions.

The Government doesn't have to abide by the 'people's will'. Which is why chaos now reigns.

After the referendum to decide whether or not we should join the EU I said it would all end in tears. Wish I'd laid a bet on that!!!

London's Parks

Just posted the introductory blog to a series about some of the great parks of London. In this one featuring St. James's Park there is a little information about the history of the parks.

There will be more to follow - and all illustrated.

www.auntiestravels.blogspot.com

My Travel Articles

Just discovered that someone else is now using a similar 'name' for travel articles. Please note that my travel articles appear on:

www.auntiestravels.blogspot.com

Hope you enjoy them! 

Jurong Bird Park, Singapore.

Just posted a blog/photos of the Jurong Bird Park on www.auntiestravels.blogspot.com

For some strange reason Blogger doesn't want to advertise the fact!

Birds I Encountered in Florida

Anyone who has visited Florida and been to the beaches knows the seagulls (noisy!) and has watched

the pelicans diving for food. One winter when I was sitting in my car by a deserted beach one pelican decided to do a bit of showing off. He strutted back and forth in front of me then took off, dived into the sea and flew back with a fish - cross-wise in his beak. Why do that when you've a beak large enough to use as a shopping bag? I soon found out. He put the fish on the sand and proceeded to fillet it. Show off. I beat a quick retreat.

At one time I lived in a static caravan/mobile home in a small park. Every morning I took a smart walk around the park - with an escort. A falcon. When I left home in the morning he was on a nearby electrical cable. I turned right, he flew past me to perch further along. Then I turned left. Yup, he overtook me. All the way around the park. Even when I sunbathed in my back garden he would perch on the electrical cable.

I'm glad he wasn't a vulture. Or buzzard if you prefer the name. Ugly things but very graceful when flying. Did you know that when taking off from the ground they have to make a running start? The aeroplanes of the bird world? One day when driving along a country road I had to stop as a flock of vultures had found some road kill. Why stop? To wait for them get wound up for take-off!

Florida has a wide variety of birds of all types but two of my favourites are the mockingbird and the beautiful small, crested and musical red cardinal. (His mate is - would you believe - drab brown).

Yes, a mockingbird does copy every sound he hears - sirens, reversing vehicle beepers, telephones, car horns, babies crying. And, of course, it imitates the songs of other birds!

Never a dull moment in birdland.

Thank you, Fans!

Many thanks to everyone who bought (or read) my books over Christmas and throughout January. Now to check and see how many of you were kind enough to five me 4*/5* reviews!

Love you.