THOMPSON
We began the month on our beloved Clew Bay again. Skylarks were ebullient, as were finches, robins, wrens and angle-grinders.
Yes, angle-grinders!
We escaped from the city with its ever present noise and traffic pollution to the peace and quiet of the seaside where a local boating enthusiast spent most of the June Bank Holiday weekend angle-grinding and spewing tractor fumes into the atmosphere as he worked on his hobby, welding his yacht. If anybody out there is knowledgeable about ASBOs, perhaps you’d drop me a line at kate@kate-thompson.com?
peachy weather
Back in Dublin, we had an unexpected blast of really peachy weather, so I took my laptop out into the garden, to work under the pergola. Unfortunately, blackbirds were nesting in the wisteria overhead, and kept barging through with beaks full of worms and slugs for their nestlings, inches from my head. They were at war with a family of magpies, one of whom fell down the chimney, and spent thirty-six hours stuck behind the wardrobe in Clara’s room (her wardrobe was built into a redundant chimney breast). So Malcolm prised open the back of the wardrobe, and we waited to see if the baby magpie would find its way back to the light. It did! I was working in the kitchen, and became aware of magpie babe chirping so loudly that I knew it had emerged from its sooty trap into the wardrobe. Having a fear of birds in confined spaces, I waited until my hero husband came home to release the chick. It was standing there in Clara’s closet looking pretty insouciant, as if thirty-six hours stuck down a chimney was just part of its training to be a James Bond-y type magpie. And as soon as Mal let it go in the garden, it flew straight back up to join its parents on the chimney, like a thrill seeker wanting to go for another bungee jump.
MY HUSBAND - THE HERO
My husband, the hero, did another heroic thing last month. I stupidly left the camera on the rear seat of the car one afternoon, and of course a trio of passing lowlifes smashed the window and took it. We heard the glass breaking and the alarm shrilling, and Mal was off like a shot. He raced up the terrace after them, accosted the bloke with the camera, yelled at him, and grabbed it back. The villains looked utterly stupefied that the victim of the crime had actually had the gumption to get his property back perforce. If they were savvy, I guess they might sue for assault, but I think those boys’ brains had abandoned them at circa age fourteen.
BLOOMSDAY
June
16th is Bloomsday. We celebrated it this year with friends at Caviston’s
restaurant in Glasthule, where they hold a dedicated Bloomsday lunch, and
everybody dresses up Edwardian style. It’s the best thing – a late lunch
that goes on forever, with fabulous food and copious wine and readings from
James Joyce by people who really know how to read it out loud. Because in my
humble opinion Ulysses should only ever be listened to rather than
read. In my College days, I loathed and despised having to dissect the
damned thing, but when I hear people like Senator David Norris interpreting
the words and practically singing them, it really comes alive and is way
more entertaining than… than… OK. I have to say it. Big Brother. This has
got to be the worst one ever. They have all got to go.
EARLY MORNING CALL
I had
another early morning call out to Ireland AM last month, to talk to the
lovely Mark Cagney and Sinead Desmond. It’s the fourth time in a year I’ve
had that wake-up call: first there was Sex, Lies & Fairytales to
promote last July, then came Pixie’s book, and - earlier this year - Love
Lies Bleeding. This time the TV3 appearance was to announce details with
Sarah Webb of a writing competition (for details
click here) sponsored by Ireland AM, New Island Books, and Mothercare.
The winning entry will be published alongside contributions from some of
Ireland’s best known women writers in a forthcoming publication called
Mum’s the Word, and the winner will also receive vouchers to the tune of
€1000 from Mothercare. All the stories in Mum’s the Word are to do
with the experiences of being a mother, and all author royalties will go to
Cystic Fibrosis research.
My own contribution is called Letting Go, and it’s about how
difficult I found coming to terms with ‘Empty Nest’ syndrome once my
daughter left home. The last Sunday in June was particularly difficult. Mal
and I saw Clara off at the airport for the umpteenth time (our girl is an
intrepid
traveller). This time she’s off to Thailand for two and a half months to
complete training for her scuba dive mastership. She’ll be back in September
for just ten days before she disappears off to Japan on a scholarship to
Keio University for a year :”0 Noooo! I wish I could shrink her, and keep
her in a velvet box.
COMPETITION
Lynn Evans
Lynn, please send me your terrestrial address, and I will put your prize – an unabridged audio book of my last novel but one, Sex, Lies and Fairytales, narrated by your truly - in the post to you as soon as I hear from you.
To listen to a sample on audible.com click here
The correct answer to the question was, of course:
‘Deirdre had changed Bruno’s phone number: but she hadn’t told him Greta was dead.’
*For details on how to order Love Lies Bleeding, please go to:* www.loveliesbleedingthebook.com
THANK YOU
As ever, a million thanks for your fabulous, fabulous letters - and many thanks, too, for taking the time to read this.
♥♥♥
from
Kate
PS: ORDERING BOOKS
to buy
By the way, while Sex, Lies and Fairytales is available to buy or to order in all good bookshops in Ireland, the UK and the Commonwealth, its companion piece Hard to Choos is available to buy direct from booksellers only in Ireland at present. Should you wish to buy the book from Amazon, clicking here will take you straight to the sales point. You can also order Hard to Choos from Pixie's site. Lots of you are wondering where my backlist can be purchased. Amazon is good, of course, but my Transworld titles are also available - with free P&P in the UK - at Bookpost. (Just key in the title name in inverted commas - ie: "More Mischief")
to buy
© Kate Thompson, 2007
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