Authors Electric

          'Lucifer' in the garden. Love Lies Bleeding Loosestrife... Lose Strife? Susan Price's website

 How was your summer? It's probably the question asked most in September as people head back to work and school after the holidays. Of course, the expectation is that you've had a good time and are rested to face the rest of the year. My answer to this question though is that it was a bit crap. More than a bit, actually. It started on a high with attending the Theakston's Crime Writing Festival in Harrogate but I caught Covid and things plummeted from there. My husband caught it from me. We were both ill for over four weeks. It wasn't an easy time for our kids.  We had to give up Proms and theatre tickets. We watched a LOT of TV, including the Prom we had to miss. Thankfully, we were well enough to go on holiday to Croatia last week. Croatia In amongst all of this, I was waiting for an email from my publisher. The book I spent all of last year writing had finally gone in to a different editor. Unfortunately, the news wasn't positive. Lots of things to like but not f...

Oh, God! It’s the end of September and my head is still in August. For the first time in twenty-five photo 'Cherwell' years I don’t have a child starting school or university and I am disoriented and confused. I haven’t had to argue over school shoes, iron-on labels, choose pencil cases, or duvet covers, visit Ikea or shoehorn hair straighteners into a car filled to bursting with black bin bags of essential stuff. It is zombie apocalypse levels of weird.     I never get much done in the summer: I am lured by walks in the countryside, the odd glass of rose´ overlooking the river, or coffee out-doors watching the world go by, indulging in a little light gossip. I have lots of useful thoughts but I store them like nuts for colder weather.           This year those signs which tell me it’s time to stop metaphorically gathering hay or wool (or whatever the damn phrase is,) the secret semaphore signals to my brain to tell me to knuckle ...

Summer is on its way out. The evenings are longer and soon we’ll wake to that chill to remind us that autumn is inevitable.             I love summer. I love the long, warm days. I love the buzz of bees on the lavender; the sweet smell of orange from the philodendron; the cries of children from the playground. Most of all, I love being outside.             Doing what? I’m no gardener. I used to try – there was something about February that made me rush to the garden centre and buy seeds. I’d soak them and sow them and water with tenderness – not too whooshy to wash them away, not too feebly as they needed to get the idea they might have to cope with real rain when I planted them out.             I thinned them out, easing out tiny plant after tiny plant, leaving only the sturdy and optimistic.   ...