Authors Electric

I went to see a play last month, written by a local Suffolk author, Suzanne Hawkes, with my friend, Virginia Betts, in the lead role. Pat and Ron – Writers in Crime was an exploration of the friendship between American crime writer Patricia Highsmith… “I write thrillers!” she interjects with an exasperated drawl. …and fellow author Ronald Blyth. He was Suffolk born and bred and they met when she stayed in the county. The play was brilliantly written and acted and I found out much about two authors who I confess I’ve not read. However, the most surprising thing I learned that evening had nothing to do with their literary works, or character creations. I discovered that Patricia Highsmith collected snails. Maybe not too much of an odd fact on its own, but her penchant for these slimy creatures went even further as she used to keep them in her handbag with a head of lettuce when she went out and was even known to stick them inside her bra! She did have more usual writerly hab...

When Francis and I got married last year we were careful to make no promises, exchange no rings. It shouldn’t have made any difference, except legally. Yet it did. We fell in love 27 years ago; have been together and happy ever since. We have children – two as a couple and three from my previous (failed) marriage. Our wedding was adorned by my grandchildren, our children, brothers & their families – and also by Francis’s mother, who was living with Parkinson’s dementia and has since died. (I am so glad that this was still in the period when families were welcome to keep a proper vigil with the dying person, not, as is sometimes proposed, pop in fo 15 minutes to 'say goodbye'. Our collective care of Patricia in hospital gave her an easier death, and also supported the nurses. But that's not my subject here.)  Why didn’t we marry before? For a long while it had felt important to me that if either of us wished to leave the relationship we should be free to do so – ...

Solo Newspaper is at a premium in our household just now – it’s not just that it’s the fitting-out season and I’ve got a bilge-and-ballast-cleaning operation underway on Peter Duck : we also have a resident puppy. He’s called Solo and he belongs to Bertie -- though it’s me who’s become uncharacteristically protective about the carpets. This blog, however, is not about carpets, bilges – nor even puppies. It’s about family visiting in care homes (though if you've got a picture of a new puppy, it seems daft not to use it).  I was busily spreading newspaper whilst meditating on a recent trip north to talk about John’s Campaign with care home managers, when I spotted an article that was much too good to be peed on.  Jenni Russell of The Times  told the story of an elderly couple, Victor and Edna, who had died at great ages in sheltered accommodation. Their shared funeral would have been a small affair, attended by a few care staff members, until someone alerted the R...