Friday, 6 April 2012

I wonder...

... what's happening to the world at the moment? Just of late, I've been feeling like something is out of sync. Everyone I speak to is unhappy about something - not something silly either - something to do with work or debt or illness. If I had a magic wand I would wave it, but I don't. Does anyone know where I could buy one?

Tuesday, 6 March 2012

For My Parents

When I think of what cancer did to my family, I still feel shocked. It seemed surreal, a nightmare, and sometimes, just to give my mind a rest, I pretend for a moment it didn’t happen. I grew up with wonderful, kind loving parents, neither of which made it to fifty. They didn’t see my wedding day; they will never meet their beautiful grandchildren. My mother died of breast cancer, my dad, a brain-tumour. Margaret and Jim; they were both young, joyous, happy people, both of which were stuck by this awful disease. My mum told me by the time I got older that cures would be found, and, as time is going on, science develops and treatments are better, but still no cure. I have always wanted to do the Race for Life, but never felt strong enough. However, after having my first child last year, I can now try to begin to understand what my parents faced, knowing that they would not see their two daughters grow up. Their feelings must have been impossible to describe. And so, for the two bravest people I ever had the privilege of knowing, I’m going to do it on the 19 May 2012. Please help me to raise some money to help find a cure. Please let’s try to put an end to the suffering and loss this disease can cause, and also to help the brave people battling cancer today.

Monday, 27 February 2012

Ten things about me…

1. Describe yourself in seven words.

Funny, curious, goth, loving, sad, happy, interested.

2. What keeps you up at night?

Worries about everything; money, my family and our futures.

3. Who would you like to be?

No one else. Other people usually aren’t what they seem.

4. What are you wearing now?

My nightie. I can’t seem to get out of nighties at the moment.

5. What scares you?

Ignorance. Also, on a horror film when an odd voice comes out of a person, a la The Exorcist. It happens in Ghostbusters too and I still find it difficult to watch! Also, 1984 is the most frightening thing I’ve ever read.

6. What is the best thing that’s happened in your life so far?

I’m lucky – too many to list. My wonderful childhood, my husband, my son.

7. What was the last website you looked at?

The List Universe. Fascinating stuff. 

8. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

My hair. I’d like it to be very long but can never seem to grow it, despite many attempts.

9. Slankets, yes or no?

God, yes.

10. Do you fit your star sign?

Yes, I’m a typical Taurus.

So what about you?

Wednesday, 22 February 2012

Mayhem with Angels - the beginning

A roadie came up behind them and asked, “You ready guys? Want me to flick the switch?”

Aron looked round at his boys and they all nodded in agreement.

He turned back to him. “Hell yeah,” he drawled.

Aron let the others go first and listened with a smile as he heard the masses explode. In the few seconds before he went on stage, the girls saw him change. An invisible shroud fell over him and he finally became what Maria and the others had seen on his album covers. He morphed like a lycanthrope. The spoilt, sordid creature they had first witnessed transformed into a figure-head, the icon he was. Maria felt a slow, savage tingle rush down her spine.

He ran on stage and the crowd went insane. He said nothing initially, knowing he didn’t need an introduction. He pulled his silver guitar over his head, nodded to Will, and they began.

Everyone instinctively surged forward. People jumped in all directions and screamed, as if they could jump high enough to reach him. Aron ran to one end of the stage and made the people perform a Mexican wave; something that regular fans were used to doing.

“Anyone wanna to cause mayhem?!” he screamed into his microphone. The mob roared back at him that they did.

His voice was extraordinary. Powerful and almost operatic, it was an instrument in itself. As if the music were made to fit his voice and not the other way round.

As she watched from the wings, Maria James was so overwhelmed, even by the first song, that she wanted to fall to her knees and weep. Certainly she had heard their albums and had now been lucky enough to see them in rehearsal, but to see Project Mayhem live, so closely, combined with the hysterical response, was one of the most powerful experiences she could ever remember. For the first time too, she saw how different the boys’ performing styles were.

Will Richards stood quite still, his legs awkwardly crossed and with timid eyes looking out, wondering why they had come to see him. He didn’t understand how special he was. He didn’t realise that the crowd, the girls especially, loved the way he stood. The tortured artist, the amused onlooker. The silent genius.

Jamie Taylor Jnr sat at the back, but by no means went unnoticed. His act was tinged with madness. He threw his drumsticks in the air, pulled faces at the crowd, and behaved more like a circus clown than what most critics agreed was world’s greatest percussionist.

Marcus was the tallest of them all, and looked like a huge punk giant. He flung himself about his side of the stage like a lunatic, and his size and projection made him a terrifying sight. But there was no doubt at all who was king for the day.

Aron Moretti stood at the centre of it all and harboured the ability to change the world. His command of the crowd was phenomenal, his skill as an entertainer unique. Unlike most performers, he did not put invisible barriers between himself and his audience. He created the feeling that they were one crowd, enjoying the gift of music together. He made them sing and yell as their ringleader, but he was also one of them. He touched them all, and they would remember him forever.

He dressed in all black today, yet Aron constantly reinvented himself. Not just for profile, but because he was easily bored and needed constant stimuli all around him. Today, being the first performance with the British girls supporting, he thought he’d dress to impress and let them know what they were up against. What the standards were. He looked like a ferocious dark angel. His tattoos and nose-ring added to his savage appearance, his hair was wild and unkempt. His luminous green eyes glared out at the audience with such anger that the front rows began to feel nervous, and some of the younger girls started to ease themselves backwards.

The crowd panted, begged and reached in desperation for him. Groups of excited girls chanted his name. They held up home-made banners with pictures of him and Will Richards on them. Men dressed like Marcus and Jamie, men who had followed them through high school, stuck posters inside lockers and on bedroom walls. Girls showed off tattoos of their names, had made t-shirts declaring they were pregnant by any one of the four of them. Drinks were thrown; people were hurt, shoved and crushed in the urgent, fearless mission to get closer to the biggest band in the world. For two hours, they were in heaven. For two hours, Aron strutted with long graceful legs up and down the stage like a gothic peacock; thrilling, inspiring and breaking hearts. An exotic hybrid of musicians both present and past, he delighted in being the protagonist, and felt confident that this was his place. His purpose. His magic was unworldly, his presence like the dazzling sunshine. The feeling across the world for all who knew him was that he was unique, ethereal, and untouchable.  That he’d been chosen, as if by some higher power, to be a rock star.

find Mayhem with Angels on Amazon:

Monday, 6 February 2012


Do you ever have those days when you want to peel your own face off? Well I am today. And it isn't my hormones either. Can't one just be horrid without hormones? Just for once?

Some reasons are:

a) Why can I never finish all the work I need to do? Even though I work constantly?

b) I wanna be blonde again, and I have no funding for this. But, I did have more fun!

c) This snow. I want it to just feck off.

I'm now off to sulk in the kitchen.

Sunday, 5 February 2012

Dad’s the word…

I remember a few weeks before I had my little son, I looked at my husband and said, ‘you’re about to become someone’s hero… are you ready?’

I’m not sure he quite believed me, but, I know from experience that I was very lucky to have a hero. And, as my husband has many of my father’s qualities (it’s true, I chose a man just like my dad!), I know he’ll be the same to our little one.

Why was my dad my hero? Well, he always had teabags and a washing line on holiday for starters. He could erect any tent in minutes, large or small. He looked at me as though he adored me and encouraged me in everything – and that was what made him wonderful. He gave me self-belief and confidence (as well as superb camping skills).

So I know the way my son will feel about his dad, and I can’t wait to see it happen…