Is it enough to see Sarah Miles in Lidl?
The Fannings have reached a bit of a crossroads again. After so long in Amsterdam, it's proving harder to find the right place to settle back in the UK. We own a house that Mr. Fanning poured his soul into giving a major makeover and rent a Brighton flat that takes damp to new levels. It's time to decide whether to head back up north or buy a place down here.
The one flat we love has been on the market for two years thanks to steady price drops and a water-damaged lobby. That said the place feels right and so we're off to give it another once over with a bloke called Peter who knows a thing or two about damp Brighton basements. This aside, the flat lies hidden at the back of a square where we saw Zoe Ball attempt a three-point turn. In other celeb spotting news, our near neighbour would be Nick Cave and we recently saw Sarah Miles finger mixed peppers in the nearby Lidl. It's a whole different world.
March 2012 – Brighton Baby
So what's going on with the weather then? Don't judge me for this weak opening gambit. I've spent almost eight years on the wrong side of the channel and now I'm back in Britain, my aim is to fit back in. To that end, I gather weather talk is essential. For those who don't know, the Fannings upped their Dutch sticks and returned to life above sea level last year.
It was no easy job. The removal truck was easy to book, boxes quick to pack, but then came the question of canine cargo. Although Bert has flown (solo twice) before, he's knocking on and very much set in his ways. We knew this would need to be a road trip. No longer owning a car was a bit of a bind so we called upon Hertz and Avis for help. One-way hires are extortionate – you basically have to buy the car off them, so I agreed to fly back to the UK, hire a car, schlep to Amsterdam, pick up my precious charges and drive them back through the tunnel. All was well until the Icelandic volcano decided to have one last cough and I was forced into making emergency ferry bookings as a back-up plan. I'll say one thing about the North Sea ferry operators. They may not offer luxury or anything vaguely approaching an experience you'd ever want to repeat except under enemy fire, but they do know how to screw extra money out of a crisis. The fare was almost three times what it had been the day before when I booked.
Long story short, I spent twelve hours in a sardine can surrounded by unruly French school kids and stag/hen parties travelling to Newcastle to pick up a car and drive straight back to the port and ensure a further twelve hour crossing back to Holland. Then a drive through Belgium (hell) and France, a tunnel under the channel (wonderful) and after a night in Folkestone's Holiday Inn Express (I preferred the ferry) we made it back home.
And after a summer of living in a renovation project that made Sarah Beeny's Restoration Hell look like child's play, we moved to Brighton. To be beside the sea.
Back from a break
I've lost three months of my writing life to my day job. Or so I thought.
Working from early morning to late at night to launch a major project left my head in need of a few glasses of wine and my fingers loathe to venture near any keyboards.
Then I glanced into my writing folder. I knew I'd thrown together ideas, paragraphs, scenes and suggestions to tackle my work in progress, but was shocked to find almost 6000 words ready and waiting to be patch worked in.
Writers’ Block
Writers’ block. Everyone I know who writes – or tries to write – hits it some time. You sit down ready to spew a whole load of graceful prose at the page and nothing comes. Or worse, something comes but what you write is pure and unadulterated rubbish.
September 1 2010 – from the3six5
'What if one of us dies,' he asks me.
It's another conversation about upping sticks and leaving the city.
'How is it any different to what we have here?' I say. And he nods.
I sense the sadness. You've done this, he wants to say. You. Not me.
Once, I'd have been overjoyed to live amongst noise, mess and people. Now I crave silence.
So we book a holiday. To the middle of nowhere to see if we like it. It's September 1st and the kids are back behind school gates. The beaches are empty. The forests deserted.
January 2010
I’ll open by wishing my reader(s) a Happy 2010 and adding that I hope Christmas wasn’t too awful.
December 2009
As I flap my flippers at my new tiny keyboard (see picture with keys – to give you some kind of context, in case you think I’m exaggerating), it’s snowing and for some reason it isn’t having the usual effect. Normally, I’d be decking the halls with boughs of holly but this year, my main worry is slipping and doing myself an injury.
September 2009
What a close-to-perfect week the Fanning clan had in a remote French farmhouse, miles from the nearest shops with no Internet, no phones and no English language TV – we watched the French version of Wheel of Fortune twice and didn’t quite get why a small white dog was part of the proceedings.
August 2009
This month, Manchester fails to charm, silly season gets too silly, I have an old fart moan about students and the book comes slowly together.
July 2009
Sorry for the dreadfully irregular updates, but it’s been a dark and miserable time, which I hope I’m coming out of.
