Longest delay ever since Battleaxe last blogged. It must be a month. People are asking what has happened. That is quite flattering – to be missed. But why no writing? I can’t pretend I’ve been incredibly busy, or off on my travels… no, I just have not been well. A bad time to choose, with the new novel coming out tomorrow – but perhaps that’s part of it. The weather has been terrible. Rain, rain, rain. We have the odd bright day but it never lasts. Straight back to rain. Then what about the state of the world… if I have to read much more about Jeffrey Epstein I’ll go mad. And no, you hole-pickers, that has nothing whatsoever to do with lack of sympathy for the victims, it is just infuriating to see the media obsession with mindless dirt-digging, our wretched government apparently unravelling before our eyes because of that lying creep Mandleson, while the world situation continues to be so terribly grim… And then Hastings – wet, potholes, derelict sites… the other day we walked along the Pier. So much hope for it, once. Now, desolate, deserted and dilapidated. Here are a couple of pictures. Sad…
Ill? Don’t bloody ask. Look, I don’t go on about my health much on here, but long-time readers may have grasped that I have a cancerous past, and have had bits removed. Part of what makes the Battleaxe is my reputation for coping, and for being very strong. I have got a firm grip on the inevitable health anxiety. But a few weeks ago I developed one of those inner-ear things that makes you very sick and dizzy. Was quite incapacitated for a few days. When I eventually managed (oh goodness it’s enough to give you a breakdown in itself) to pin down a GP and get to see her – a stranger, presumably a locum – she brusquely informed me that she could detect a ‘heart murmur.’ Needless to say, this stirred up a whole new area of anxiety, and in the following days, every time I felt a bit dizzy I was convinced I was having a heart attack. I think the doctor must have repented a bit, because she actually phoned to see how I was, and gave me another appointment for tomorrow. She has assured me the heart thing is not serious, and many people my age have a similar murmur. I have a routine referral to cardiology, which of course might take months… but nonetheless, it threw Battleaxe. I have all sorts of horrid new pills too. Poor Philosopher has had to look after me – very capably and kindly.
Then, of course, there is the new novel issue coinciding with the above. It is out on Amazon tomorrow! After I finished ‘Death Deceit and Cake’ last summer, for quite a time I was laid low with anxiety and fatigue. I fear I must accept that writing these novels takes a lot out of a body, even though I enjoy doing it. Here’s the Amazon link.
Dear readers, if you enjoy the book, leave a review on Amazon.
Dear Gentle Readers? What is that? Oh no yuch, Bridgerton. In my weakened state I have binge-watched the first four episodes of the new series on Netflix. What a confession. Honestly, I feel ashamed, but the terrible tripe was ideal. But what am I being sniffy about? If my novels were remotely as successful as Bridgerton I would be set up for life. In the last episode I have just watched, there is a slightly older woman – well, she must be at least 50 to have all her grown-up kids, but on screen she only looks about 40. Anyway, she is shown getting into a new relationship but as she is ‘older’, she doesn’t get naked like the young ones, she beds her lover uncomfortably clad in a rigid, full-body concealing corset thing. What’s that about?
In my latest novel, Caroline goes to bed with someone new and she is 63… Olga tells her to go to Marks and buy some new underwear… I’m pretty sure Caroline doesn’t go to bed in it though… but no spoilers.
Have got quite a few Kindle pre-orders, which is good, and several appointments to talk about my work at WI groups – not until the summer, fortunately. I love doing those talks- I can get so wonderfully scurriIous. This time I can drift innocently into Sex and the Older Woman – did I ever tell you I used to be a Sexual Dysfunction counsellor for what was then the National Marriage Guidance Council? Well, honestly, I was. I can happily talk about pretty much anything.
But seriously, am going to write one more Caroline and Olga novel and then I think that will be it. Someone just asked me today if I was having a book launch. No. Right now I can barely do anything. I will for the last one though, next year. Promise. It will be called ‘Death is a Dog’s Dinner’.
Look, no, scurrilous or not, I’m not going to write anything about Epstein, Andy, Mandy, Trumpy et al. It is just too disgustng. Gives us a sad insight into the sordid lives of those people – mostly men, but then look at Fergie – their boundless greed, their painful insecurities, the arrid emptimess… trouble is, that creepy Epstein had the skills to spot what each individual saddo lacked and therefore craved,, and then give it to them – sex, money, influence or whatever.
