Ok here's another meme for you, kind of like a chain meme i suppose, consisting of only six words describing your memoir! Yes, you've got time for that. I was kindly tagged by Gerald in Cheshire, UK. Hmm, how to describe your life in so few words? Not easy. All that stuff. I suppose my over-riding thought is how fast it all goes past when you're having fun, myriad memories good and bad, with the changing outward shell belying the ever-young thoughts still within. How to condense it into six words, though? Thinks...................

The meme instructions are:

1. Write your own six word memoir.
2. Post it on your blog; include a visual illustration if you'd like.
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post, and to the original post if possible.
4. Tag at least five more blogs with links.
5. Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

The six word memoir I came up with is:

Who's That Imposter In My Mirror?

So the bloggers i tag are, as follows:

1. Dive in Norwich. He likes Memes.
2. Rose in Canterbury. She'll be up for this.
3. Petrea in USA. She'll act her part.
4. M. Benaut in Adelaide. Mme will help.
5. Katie in USA. Her life in a postcard.


Have fun! Over to you.

Coffee Break Fiction - Sash Windows by Lynn

The cold hit my arse with a shock not unpleasant. Isn’t it strange how you’re dying to go to the loo, then when you do, nothing comes for a while? I surveyed the bathroom. Bare floorboards under my naked feet – I’d left my flipflops at the door out of politeness - my jeans now rested in a wrinkled pile upon my feet, diamante belt splayed outwards and my knickers stretched between my knees. No, that’s me I’m telling you about, isn't it. So; the bathroom? Well it’s Victorian and large. No, it’s huge. Nice old roll-top bath to my right in the corner and a shower over to the right of that, next to the door behind me. Bloody great; it’s a double shower!

Cold though, in here. I rubbed my feet along and back of the floorboards and rubbed my thighs. Why, I don’t know, it was still freezing. To my front left, at the foot of the sink on the floor, was a battered Sunday Times supp. I reached over, nearly falling, to get it. I flicked through the adverts to the one bit worth reading, at the back: What’s In My Drawers? In the picture I checked off a few things, chuckling wryly, yep I have that too. Oh yes and that. What’s she got THAT for? Oooh that’s a good idea, I’ll put one of those in my drawer.

I looked up from the mag to do some thinking because that’s where thinking is done, upwards. I stared through the big sash window. No, it was massive, not just big. Wow. Oh that’s what they mean by the ‘wow factor’ then. I peered through the open gash which was clearly blowing the cold in. Right. Should have seen that before I sat down.

There was another similar building just a few feet across the way. I could make out a figure, standing. Oh, he’s peeing. Nice. Couple of shakes, zip, then he bent to his right. My way. Ducking slightly, I saw that a head had appeared. Through his sash. Yep, there it was! And here I was, sitting on the loo with only a couple of widely open windows and some feet of open air space between us. He had a close No. 1 haircut, a navy blue suit. Tattered, but a suit and a very smiley face! Jesus, he was looking straight in at me! There he was. Yep, straight at me. Wide smile, arched eyebrows.

“Hi!” he said and did a little wave.

I shook my head a little in some disbelief and shifted my eyes to the right but they went back again. To him. I placed the mag on my lap and did a bemused wave back, whilst pulling my knees together and putting my feet onto tip-toes. It somehow felt the thing to do.

“Uh… hello.” I replied, with a reluctant smirk and a frown to boot.

You won’t believe what happened next. The suited legs appeared at his sash and came out through it, then his arms, then the head. Still smiling. He was standing outside, three floors up! How? Ah, the noise gave it away, iron sounding on the fire escape as he stepped – only four of them – over to my sash. He popped his head into the window most casually, but dear Reader, worse than that, he spoke to me again, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I know you.” he pointed out, “You’re Jasmin.”

“Jasmine, yes. Um… I…”

I gestured to my half-naked self but it had no effect.

“Yeah, Jasmeeen, that’s it. Well fancy that.”

I’d met him at a couple of parties a while back. He’d been smiling then, too. He lifted another suited leg, held onto my sash, then another leg and his whole person was now in the bathroom with me. Suddenly I went to stand up, dropping the mag on the floor along with my jaw.

“Well, hang on!” I objected, my most fearsome words coming to the fore and being betrayed by my own annoyingly polite laugh, “I don’t think… I mean, I hardly know you!”

“I’m D…” he began, holding his hands out in explanation and grinning madly all the while.

“Yes, yes I know, you’re Duncan.”

Swiftly, realising he was there to stay – he was now shifting from shoe to shoe on my floorboards and rubbing his hands together - I did a hoveringly awkward quarter turn, facing him, half bent, so that my bare bottom faced the wall. I fashioned a very quick wipe with the tissue I’d had in my hand, hoping he wouldn’t see any of my ‘me’ bit, though he didn’t turn away at all. Not even briefly. Incredible! I grabbed at the knickers, hauled them up unceremoniously at the back first so they covered the front pretty much soon after, then pulled up, straightened and quickly fastened my jeans.

“So.” he said, rather loudly. “What you doing here, then?”

“I’m ... well, i'm looking at some rooms. Here, in this building. This would be my bathroom.”

“Great.” he said, looking at it. “It’s just like mine.” He gave a nod towards the double shower and raised one eyebrow. “Don’t find these often –" then, unerringly he rattled on, "look, um, I’m just going to knock up some breakfast. Eggs, bacon, you know, jam, toast….tea. Or... coffee, if you prefer? I have coffee too. Some free samples i got, in fact. But!" he added loudly again, "It's still coffee! Ha ha. So; when you’ve finished, pop over and join me?”

He reached over to drag at my arm and showed me through the sash. The wrought iron construction looked fairly sturdy with railings and a large platform over which he’d travelled.

“Yeah!” he said, reading my mind. “Come through the bathroom! I’ll see you ... in a while then.”

His hand came to my chin and pushed it up slightly, very gently.

“Catch flies that way,” he said, still smiling. He had clear, blue eyes and the No. 1 was kind of blonde.

He stepped back over the sash into the fresh morning sky, but not before chuckling behind him:

“By the way, that mirror behind you works a treat. Nice arse.”

I spun round.

……..to be continued……

If you've time for more fiction, simply search at the top of this blog for Coffee Break.

New Year Meme

Here's a Meme i nicked from Dive. As usual. Who nicked it from someone else. As usual.

1) Where did you begin 2007?: At the pub. Oops no thought you meant 2008. I was at home, watching Jools Holland, drinking champagne and pulling crackers. Usual stuff. I'd been to a different pub at lunchtime though with a friend, chatting over a crackling fire.

2) What was your status on Valentine's Day?: With a boyfriend. Wondering why he had not got me a card. I should have realised then.

3) Were you in school (anytime this year)?: No.

4) How did you earn your money?: Writing. Photography.

5) Did you have to go to the hospital?: Yes several times unfortunately. All ok though. Took others too for appointments. Visited one.

6) Did you have any encounters with the police?: Yes several times. On a personal basis (relationship; now history) and work based too.

7) Where did you go on vacation?: I haven't been on hols for more years than i care to count.

8) What did you purchase that was over $1000?: A car.

9) Did you know anybody who got married?: Nope.

10) Did you know anybody who passed away?: Yes. Didn't know him very well but it made me very sad. He - just 19 - was lost in the floods and i think of him every time i am at the Abbey.

12) Did you move anywhere?: No

13) How did you celebrate your birthday?: A good meal and a chat with my son. Also at the pub on a different day. Yes i'm often at the pub but i drink - fruit juices!

14) What concerts/shows did you go to?: A theatrical sex show.

15) Are you registered to vote?: Yes

16) Who did you want to win Big Brother?: Don't care.

17) Where do you live now?: Gloucestershire

18) How did you spend your summer break?: Didn't really have one.

19) What's one thing you thought you'd never do but did in 2007?: Trust the wrong man. Again. Stupid.

20) What has been your favorite moment?: Oh, many. Can't really list them but having all 3 sons at home for Christmas was wonderful.

21) What's something you learned about yourself?: I'm strong. I've had to be.

22) Any new additions to your family?: No

23.) What was your worst month?: Won't say.

24.) What music will you remember 2007 by?: Amy Winehouse

25) Who has been your best drinking buddy? Everyone at the pub.

26) Made new friends?: Yes. One in particular.

27) New best friend?: Same two as always.

28) Favorite night out?: Two. One watching a silly friend in a play with other good friends. Good fun. The other was a quiet drink discussing interesting things with a very interesting man... he shall remain nameless apart from M.

29) What sporting events did you attend?: None

30) What was your best month?: December

31) Overall, how would you rate 2007 out of 10?: 2

32) Other than home, where did you spend most of your time?: At my friends' hotel/pub.

33) Did you change your hairstyle?: No

34) Have any car accidents?: No though i lost my car in the floods

35) Did you have a New Year's resolution?: No chocs and early to bed. Achieved neither so far.

36) Do anything embarrassing?: Don't think so.

37) Buy anything new from eBay?: no

38) Get married?: no

39) Get arrested?: no

40) Be honest - did you watch American Idol?: no

41) Did you get sick in 2007?: yep a bit

42) Been snowboarding?: pah!

43) Are you happy to see 2007 go?: Yup.

Roll on 2008 i say. Your turn!

Poetry after 65 years? Must be good!

Recently my father sat down and wrote a poem to my mother about their lives. They lived in Whetstone and Finchley in north London. I'm so touched by it and hope you will enjoy it too. He's a romantic old thing.

-----------------------------------

I remember, yes, I remember
The summer of forty two
The sirens loud
The guns and bombs

In Britain's struggle
To win through

And at that time
A change of schools
Sent me to Holly Park
So strict, but fair
No place to suffer fools

Then in these momentous days
A happening so great
To shake my youthful ways

I remember, yes, I remember
The girl that I saw there
In class 1a, the same as I
I tried hard not to stare

Her hair so dark and neat
With eyes more brown than brown
I glimpsed her in her seat

And even then
My heartstring woke
And stirred within my mind

Her name was Joyce
And plain to see
She was the girl for me

We went through school
And not a class apart
Until our time was through

Fourteen, the year to leave
Our working life to start

I remember, yes, I remember
The winter of forty five
Her schooldays done
Six months in front of mine

This must be it!
She’s gone
And I’d not sense to ask
To meet again
And could it be soon?

New ways for us so young
Find jobs and learn a trade
A year slips by
Sad thoughts of dates not made

I remember, yes, I remember
The winter of forty six
While working in my office
A new girl is employed

I know this girl!
It’s Joyce’s friend
From Holly Park, our school!

I ask her how Joyce is
The answer “very well”
I say “and will you please
Ask if we can meet?”

The answer relayed back to me
It really is a yes!

The meet’s arranged
It’s in our lunch hour
We’ll meet on her way home

Ten minutes by bus
And I am there

I know where she will walk
My tie is straight
Excitement tense
But can I sensibly talk?

I see her then
It’s her, and no mistake
Her hair so dark
Eyes sparkling brown

The schoolgirl that I knew
No longer was in view
But here, grown up
And very lovely too

We talked and walked
To where she lived
Time short
Can’t be late
I had to catch my bus

Must go, but then,
I have just made the date!

I remember, yes, I remember
The evening of our first date
Cold January twenty nine
I’m early (can not be late)
I wait outside the Odeon
Who’s cold? Not me! I’m fine

The bus, a one-two-five
Comes rushing to a stop
I see her getting off and then
I greet her with a smile

Two 'two and nines'
The price I pay
The best seats in the house
And would she like some chocs?
The ones we both will always share
Our favourite ‘Dairy Box’

The film show over now
We stand for ‘God Save the King’
It’s time to take her home
We queue together at the stop
The wind blows freezing cold

I wrap my coat around us both
I say, to keep her warm
But truth to own
It brings us close
So I can look
Into her eyes so brown

I remember, yes, I remember
The Autumn of nineteen fifty
Three happy years we’ve spent
Together all the while
And now it’s National Service time
My call-up soon is sent

Two years to serve
It’s in the RAF
How long to be apart? -
It’s not so bad
As I had thought

I often can get home
On many a Weekend Pass

Our letters to each other
Pass, daily in the post
Mine sometimes do contain
A short but loving rhyme
And hers to me the same
But sometimes also this
End with a lipstick kiss

My National Service days now done
I’m back in Civvie Street
So good to see her all the time
To make our plans complete

Ten years have now gone by
Since the summer of forty two
When first I saw her face
Then was it luck?
Or maybe fate?
That winter of forty six

I remember, yes, I remember
The summer of fifty three
The Queen and Coronation Day
But no, much more than that!
In June that year our wedding
At All Saint’s, Oakleigh Road

I turn and look to see her
Coming down the Aisle
She’s on her Father’s arm

Her dress pure white
And darker shows her hair
Her eyes of course are shining brown
But finely covered by her veil
Then smiles that both we share

She says “I will! So softly
Then, and in my turn
I say that “I will” too

A fine reception
Enjoyed by all
Was in the Springfield Hall
Then came the time
For Bride and Groom to leave
The music, food and wine

Her Mother came and held my hand
And said “look after her”
She knew, of course, I would
I said “You know I will”
The best way that I could

I remember, yes, I remember
The spring of fifty seven
In March that year
Was born, and to our joy,
A healthy baby Boy

Two years on
Then April fifty nine
To put us in a whirl
A lovely baby Girl

I remember, yes, I remember
All the years since then
A further forty eight have passed

So can it really be?
Sixty years and five
Since that summer of forty two
When first we met in school

Two images have stayed
Fixed always in my mind
Of Joyce at Holly Park School
Sitting at her desk

And see her then so clear
Stepping from the bus
And knowing that from there
It’ll be not You or Me
But Us

Roland Ede 2007

Forget Them Not

Remembrance Day 2007. Two minutes' silence was observed by most of the nation for those killed in world war I, II and others since. This is Tewkesbury's offering, at the cross in the centre of town. Earlier there had been a full parade, attended by veterans.

MEME

Yes it's Meme time. Grabbed from Dive, who stole it from Maria. You can pinch it from me if you want.



Name one person who made you laugh last night.

My son Charlie. We reversed roles for a minute. I was the stereotypical sulky teen (though he isn't sulky at all) and he told me to be in by ten. So unfair.

What were you doing at 8:00?

Er.. watching Eastenders. First time in ages! Honestly! I don't know who's who anymore.

What were you doing thirty minutes ago?

Working. Out reporting.

What happened to you in 2006?

It was a great summer actually though didn't go on holiday. I gained something and lost something. I swam a lot.

What was the last thing that you said out loud?

"I'm home darling would you like a cup of tea?"

How many beverages did you have today?

Probably about four cups of tea and two large glasses of cranberry juice. Also a glass of veg juice because i thought i should. It was vile.

What color is your hairbrush?

My comb is black.

What was the last thing that you paid for?

Food shopping: fruit, veg, salmon, juice, wine, girly shampoo, cake tins, flour, men's shower gel, loo rolls, bread, milk, newspapers.

Where were you last night?

At the pub, talking with some friends and eating with two of them.

What color is your front door?

White.

Where do you keep your change?

Stupidly, all in my purse. It bulges ridiculously yet i keep breaking into fivers. I sometimes empty it into a large whisky bottle.

What's the weather like today?

Quite muggy. Misty. Mild.

What's the best ice cream flavor?

Chocolate of course. With chips. Or vanilla sprinkled with drinking chocolate powder.

What excites you?

Words. Art. Property. Handbags. Perfume. A couple of other things.... ;)

Do you want to cut your hair?

No. I like it long.

Are you over the age of 25?

Er a bit yes. You could say that.

Do you talk a lot?

Yes although i see myself as a quiet person and talk quietly usually.

Do you watch The O.C?

No.

Do you know anyone named Steven?

Yes one Steve, one Stephen and another Steve.

Do you make up your own language?

Sometimes. My sons picked it up when they were little and did it too. Screwsy is one of theirs. Means when something is sour and your face screws up. It's screwsy (sour really)

Are you jealous?

Envious of people: no never. Jealous: can be on occasions, but only if a man is a cheat. Brief jealousy then decision to finish. Can't be doing with that rubbish.

Name a friend whose name starts with the letter A.

Andy.

Name a friend whose name starts with the letter K.

Katherine. Kevin.

Who is the first person on your received call list?

My brother.

What does the last text message you received say?

Thanks. Tried to get desk interested but no. It's a great story.

Do you chew on your straw?

Uh?

Do you have curly hair?

No.

Where's the next place you are gonna go?

Council offices. To interview the MP Lawrence Robertson.

Who's the rudest person in your life?

Two ex-es.

What was the last thing you ate?

Home made crumble and custard. I ate it rather like Nigella Lawson does, pouting, smiling and licking my lips. Making someone laugh i hasten to add, i wasn't sitting there on my own.

Will you get married in the future?

No idea. It's a possibility if i meet the right person.

What was the best movie you have seen in the past two weeks?

Haven't seen a movie in that time, but watched the tv series Fanny Hill.

Is there anyone you like right now?

Yes several.

When was the last time you did the dishes?

About two hours ago.

Are you currently depressed?

No.

Did you cry today?

Yes, briefly, at a happy story.

Your turn.

Music Memories

Dive has jogged my memory music wise, so here's a piece of Marvin Gaye for you. I saw him live at the Royal Albert Hall just a few years before he died, probably around the time of this video. He was incredible, as i'm sure you know.

MORE OLD PAPERS

More flood damaged basement contents; old papers. This one not so old at 1980. Interesting none the less. What were you doing then on July 24th 1980? I had just turned twenty one. I think i still had my Swiss boyfriend at that time who used to send surprise air tickets over in his letters. We travelled around Switzerland together at different times and into France whilst he moved with his job. Lovely time, but long distance relationships... difficult! We may have finished by then i cannot recall, but i still think of him.

Old News

I discovered this old newspaper by the kerb - a sad product of a flooded basement in Tewkesbury, UK. Part of a pile of goods ready to be dumped. It's dated 1949 and if you click on the pic you can read some of the stories. You'll find the front page here.

What were you or your parents doing on Thursday, July 15th 1949? My father says he was probably out riding his motorbike - an Ariel 1948 350 Red Hunter - around Finchley, north London. My mother had just finished her apprenticeship as a hairdresser and was working at Raynor's Hairdressers in Old Southgate, N11 - London.

I, of course, wasn't born. lol. What's that look for?

Book Review - Dead Father's Club - Matt Haig by Lynn

Dead Father’s Club – Matt Haig. Random House paperback £11.99

Highly original in its presentation, yet with marked comparison to Hamlet, this yarn speaks to us all through the mind of an eleven year old boy and his dead father’s ghost. As alarming as that sounds, it’s surprisingly easy to accept. Like in Shakespeare’s tale, the lad, Philip Noble, learns that his Dad didn’t die but was murdered. Dad’s Ghost, as Philip calls him, reveals this information and his son is given the task of seeking retribution against the killer, his Dad’s own brother, Uncle Alan.

Home for Philip is a public house, somewhat squalid and sordid with dodgy friends and acquaintances dropping by. Philip struggles with his grief as one might imagine a young boy would but added to his misery is his mother’s increasing reliance on the murderer himself. Uncle Alan moves in to the family home, assuming the paternal role, inciting a bubbling fury inside Phillip whose loyalty is to his father.

Running through the book is the presence of Dad’s Ghost who is stuck in the hapless hell of ‘the terrors’ – a halfway existence of purgatorial pain – .until revenge against Uncle Alan, his killer, can be realised. Phillip is chosen to secure this freedom for his Dad and so ensues endless plans for a tit-for-tat murder plot which sees Philip driven mad by the task

Like most burgeoning teens Phillip finds love in a girl, called Leah, distracting him from the mission and becoming part of the plot itself. Matt Haig’s descriptions of grief, as told from a young person’s perspective, are moving indeed with accurate portrayal of young, pubescent angst.

The language is told in stream of consciousness style, unpunctuated and sometimes rambling, intended no doubt to show the way a young boy’s mind works. Once you get used to this it does add something to the text, though at times is irritating in that it comes out more like a five year old’s lingo. Eleven year-olds, especially today, have more mature thoughts and actions than sometimes appear in this book.

That said, Dead Father’s Club is one of those must-reads of the year provoking thought and insightful peeks into the mind of the bereaved along with intriguing other-worldly goings-on set in a compelling tale.

More from the Seventies Teenager - Extract from my Journal 1972

For some reason the comments box has disappeared so i'll make another one here at the top for you!

Monday April 10^th 1972

Got to bed at my cousin’s last night really late, because her husband wanted to know all about France and it was good fun telling him. Maggie was quite interested but went to bed first because the baby wake up in the night she said. She said the next night I could wake up in the night when the baby cries and give her the bottle. Got up at 4 o/c this morning and was sick. Went back to bed. Went to town this morning, Haverhill. I know the town quite well now. It wasn’t good though because I was sick in the post office and fainted. There was this old woman staring at me. She wouldn’t stop staring. Saw the doctor this evening and got medicine.

Tuesday April 11^th 1972

Went to my Auntie’s today and saw my other cousin, Tom, who’s twenty something and likes making me blush. Wrote some letters home. Tom said he might take me to see Tutankamun in London. I hope he does. Stayed up talking until ¼ to 3! My Auntie told him to make sure I went to bed, so he did, then put his head round the door an hour later, whispering that everyone was asleep so we went down to the kitchen and talked and he made coffee. He’s not good at making coffee, it was too strong and made me wide awake.

Wednesday April 12^th 1972

David Cassidy’s birthday today! I sent him a card to his studio in America but I bet he doesn’t get it. He’s twenty two today. Took Louise out for a walk and saw a nice boy in the shop but only said Hello as Louise was frightened of him. Got letter from Mum and Dad with £1 in it. They always do that when I’m here. Went to the market. Bought some new tights with spots on them.

Thursday April 13^th 1972

Spent 54p. Came to my cousin’s with £8.95 and got £8.41 left. I’m busy here, no time to write. Got to change Louise now for the Babies’ tea she’s going to.

Friday April 14^th 1972

Stayed in, changing nappies and talking to Maggie. Cleaned the house for her while she went out. Favourite sweet: Bounty. Bed at 11.30

Saturday April 15^th 1972

Maggie went to a wedding so I babysat. It was quiet. Louise was a good girl and I played with her until she was tired. She fell asleep on my lap so I carried her upstairs and tucked her in. I liked being in charge of the house and making my own coffee when I want it. Maggie and Pete had drunk quite a bit when they came in, they were laughing and loud. I was asleep on the sofa. I didn’t go to bed.

Pop song – Amazing Grace. I hate it.

Sunday April 16^th 1972

Came home to Cobham at ½ 10 this morning. Had a long bath with oils in it and did my hair because Sarah and I went out this afternoon and walked around the town. Saw some friends, well, people we know who told us they went to a disco at Oxshott and had their names taken by the police. I don’t know why though and I didn’t ask. They weren’t really telling me about it anyway, I just listened. Wore my new Oxford Bags –very flared trousers - they have large checks in browns and creams and they feel very floppy around my ankles as I walk. They are very long and luckily my platforms are high enough so they don’t get wet in puddles. They are black and have a platform of ½” but Bobbie says her sister has two inch platforms. I was the second one at school to get them. Bobbie was the first. Not many people like them because they are new and people don’t like new things at first.

Monday April 17^th 1972

Back to school, worst luck. Theresa’s still going out with Mark, and Jenny has chucked Pete. Pete says he doesn’t care but her name is still all over his pencil case. I suppose he’ll cross it all out. I’ll have a look tomorrow. There’s a new English teacher for a few weeks who keeps scratching his bum! It makes us giggle and I hate that because sometimes I can’t stop. I like English but now I dread it. Think I’ll sit next to someone boring next time so they don’t make me laugh.

Tuesday April 18^th 1972

Wrote some poems in English.

Birds:

All birds are different

In a certain way

But nearly all are pretty

And mostly very gay

Summer:

Summer is here again

No bare looking trees

The warm summer sun

And honey-making bees.

I got 8/10 for them, but I scribbled them really quickly and thought they were terrible!

Journal Extract from 1972 - my 13th birthday in Paris

I have changed some names to protect others' identities but this is an extract of my journal when i was just thirteen!

Sunday April 2nd 1972

Said goodbye to Paul, my brother. He's two years older than me. He was in his bedroom going through his birthday presents from 24^{th March.}. He shouted at me to get out as soon as I opened the door, but then remembered I’m going to France tomorrow so he talked a bit.

He’s got his hair longer now, he says he’ll never cut it again and keeps flicking it out of his eyes. All my friends fancy him when they come round. How can they? Puke. He is quite good looking, well very, i suppose, but he's my brother isn't he. He likes the bottle of Brut I bought him. Well that’s what he said anyway, but I know he got two more bottles of it so I’m not sure.

I sat on his bed for a minute while he let me look at his presents. He kept them in a shoe box. He had £11, a watch, all the Brut, and some fags. He calls them fags. I don’t know who bought them for him. He’s fifteen now and he smokes a lot, I can smell it sometimes. I asked him who but he told me I had to get out now so I got up. I stared at the poster on his wall, of a nearly naked girl sitting on a long motorbike. It says Easy Rider underneath. I asked Paul about it but he just laughed at me. I stood there and he got irritated and pushed me away. I nearly fell over his big black Doc Martin boots on the floor, and he seemed to find this funny.

At the door I reminded him that I’ll become a teenager in Paris. He said “Oh yeah. Oooh!” in his sarcastic, teasy way, but then he said, “Have a nice time then.” Which was nice, I thought.

Anyway when he’s out I sometimes go into his room. I don’t look at anything, I just sit on his bed and look out of his window because the view is different from mine. He looks over the car park and people come in and go out. There's more to see. I'm at the front with the shops, it's just people walking with bags.

Well, once I opened his wardrobe door. He’s got another naked girl on the inside of the door. I got scared though that he might know so I closed it again. I expect he goes into my room too when I’m out. My posters are wall to wall David Cassidy. He’s not naked though.

Monday April 3^rd 1972

PARIS!! Dad took me to school at 6.30 to catch the coach. I didn’t let him kiss me goodbye in front of my friends so he kind of touched me on the arm as he put the suitcase down with the others. I felt kind of guilty at this, but you don’t need to kiss goodbye really, you just know. I did wave goodbye from the coach though as we drove off. He looked kind of lonely and not like the other dads. They wore work clothes, jeans and things, and my dad wore a suit. I could have died. Well there was one other dad in a suit, but the jacket didn’t match the trousers so you couldn’t call it a suit really.

At Paris right now! We (Cathy and me) have a room two floors up. It’s got a balcony. I was scared to lean over at first but I do it now, and we can see all the French people walking by, below. One of the boys’ rooms is next door and we talk from the balconies sometimes. I don’t talk to Simon though, because he was horrible to me. It’s only because I didn’t want to go to his party last week so I don’t care. I didn’t want to go. Cathy and I unpacked. Had dinner. It was nice but I don’t know what it was. We had an ice lolly after which was strange. One of the teachers came to sit at our table halfway through and it spoilt the whole thing. She kept trying to make us talk to her and pretend she was interested in our answers but we knew she had been told to do it. Andrew was making faces at her from the side and Cathy and I had to hold our hands by our mouths to disguise the giggles and I began to feel sick.

Tuesday April 4^th 1972

Went to Ieffell Tower (? Not sure how to spell that) in the morning. I bought a little tower ornament for mum, a sign saying Paris, a bookmark for Dad and a tower-shaped bottle of green perfume for myself. It doesn't smell that nice, really. Cathy tried it, said it was like cat's pee and spilled some on the carpet which annoyed me.

Had an ice lolly for pudding again. The French like ice lollies. The waiter started to pour wine for us and Mr. Bull (teacher) stopped him. We are going to mention it to Miss Smith who is much younger than him and I think she will persuade Mr. Bull to let us. I saw the waiter wink at Ann. She always gets winked at. It’s because she flirts. Cathy and I are going to flirt with the waiter tomorrow and see if he winks at us.

I don’t miss home at all. I like going to new places and this feels very different. Even the smell is new. We were supposed to write a diary every day for school work but we said we lost them! The teachers looked cross and said they will buy some more for us tomorrow and we’ll have to catch up. Stephen said to them (with a serious face) that a dog ate his while he was getting on the coach. We couldn’t stop laughing.

Wednesday April 5^th 1972

Went to Versailles. Good. Stayed in in afternoon. I

In evening went to the fair. It was GREAT! Some French boys talked to us in English. We said a few things in French and they laughed so we didn’t say much more. They came on some rides with us though and paid for us. One of them gave me his address in Paris and told me to write to him but he wore really tight trousers with big checks on them which I didn’t like so I’ve thrown the address away now.

We go on the Metro to get to the fair. It’s very fast. Cathy and I are in this hotel place but some of the classes are in private homes staying with families. I’d hate that. I don’t feel like a little girl being in the hotel but I would with a French mother fussing all the time.

Thursday April 6^th 1972 – My birthday! 13!

I’m a teenager! Got a bracelet from David. I was very surprised because he’s not my boyfriend or anything and he said he bought it at the Eiffel Tower. Cathy said he likes me, but I don’t know, he never sits next to me at school. Got cards from Mum, Dad and Nan.

Went to the Louvre today and saw the Mona Lisa painting. I loved it, but it’s much smaller than I thought and she’s not very beautiful. I thought she would be. There was a red rope in front of it which was annoying because I wanted to get closer to see the paint. I wouldn’t have touched it.

Went to the zoo in the afternoon. On the coach we had a long roll of bread with chicken in for a packed lunch. On the radio we heard David Cassidy which made my day and everyone looked at me. I went red and they all sang Happy Birthday.

Went to fair again in the evening. Saw the same boys and the boy who gave me his address looked better this time, although he kept sniffing and that got on my nerves. Maybe I should have kept his address. I could ask him again next time I suppose and just say I lost it. The French boys sang happy birthday in French to me (they all smoke by the way!) because everyone told them it was my birthday but I was just embarrassed. They walked back to the hotel with us this time so they know where we are now and kept saying Tomorrow Here Tomorrow Here to us so I don’t know if they will come to the hotel tomorrow. I think we are out for the day anyway.

Most popular song – Without You by Nillson. It’s okay but it goes on too long.

Friday April 7^th 1972

Went on boat trip along the Seine. It was stuffy inside the boat but it was fun. Then we went to Notre Dame and packed our suitcases in the evening. Cathy kept taking my best pen and hiding it so she got on my nerves. I didn’t say anything to her while we packed. She’s a bit silly.

Just as we were going to bed there was shouting outside. When we looked from the balcony, we saw the French boys in the street below. We both had our pyjamas on so we put a dressing gown on and went out. We laughed a lot but we couldn’t hear them very well. They signalled for us to come down but of course we couldn’t. We wrote on a postcard, our names and English addresses and threw it down to them. They blew kisses back to us but we went inside then because the boys next door heard and came out onto their balcony and started shouting rude things to the French boys. Our boys seem very young and silly compared to the French ones, who look more like young men, and they don’t mind being romantic in front of their friends. In fact, they love it. Our boys think they look stupid if they are romantic.

Went to bed at 11.30. I couldn’t sleep very well so I’m writing this at two o/c.

Saturday April 8^th 1972

End of Paris Trip. Got up at ¼ past 4. Got home at 10 o/c and gave out presents. Also got Dad an ashtray and key ring. Got mum a charm for her bracelet (she likes them a lot. Dad always gets them for her). Got Paul a cigarette lighter, blue and white with Paris written on it. For Nan, I got a glass goldfish. For my cousin Louise I got a toy dog. She’ll like that because she’s only two and she wouldn’t know where Paris was if I’d got something with Paris on it. For myself I bought a bracelet so I’ve got two now. Got £2.25 left in my bank book.

Sunday April 9^th 1972

Slept in late, did my washing then packed again to go to Maggie’s tonight. I like staying at my cousin’s, she is good fun and her husband is funny and her little girl Louise is so sweet and I take care of her. I’m tired but there’s lots to do today and I haven’t even had time to tell everyone about France. I’ll bore them about it when I get back from Maggie’s and my photos will be ready by then too, so I’ll sit them all down in the sitting room and make them look at them.

Journal extract one year ago - almost

Single after five years and where to begin? I've had a few months now not going out with anyone, not even thinking about starting again, just being myself. Going to the pub, chatting to people, politely refusing - quite a few i might say! - dates. I just wanted to exist alone for a while. Just me. Now i'm venturing out a bit more. Not with another man, that’s for sure, no not interested. I’m free! I’ll go further now, explore, just in a friendly way, see what happens. Maybe go out with the girls this Saturday night. Start gently, though, nothing too racy.

Back at home, the grass needs cutting, the house needs a clean and writing my novel is getting to be a bit of a drag. The domestic chores list at home is not conducive to inspiration and freshness of word. So, I bring my trusty laptop out with me for the day.

Browsing the shops I am tempted but only mentally buy a great dress for £145 and a jacket for £270 at Cousins of Cheltenham, some gorgeous wedges at Herrings and a holiday break at Going Places.

At my chosen spot in The Residence, in the Montpellier area of Cheltenham, dotted tables accommodate trendies and ladies-who-lunch alike; the place is packed. Outside the sun beating down on the Promenade pavement bathes everything in a sea of bright light bouncing off the line of parked Mercedes and BMWs and the spirits lift.

It’s the beginning of June and The Cheltenham Set are out to play. Crisp linen trousers with low-slung belts support tiny tops. Make-up is perfect and not a hair is out of place and that’s just the men. Top accessory currently seems to be the oversized handbag. Big is beautiful with myriad pockets and buckles, in bright colours.

Two others are here alone; a lady in shift dress and heels and two tables along from me a rather interesting looking man, yes he has a nice smile – I glance behind me in case there’s a beautiful blonde sitting there receiving it but no, so I return it - in jeans and a white, creased linen shirt reminiscent of crumpled sheets…no stop that, steady…slowly, remember. Not interested anyway, I wanted a break from men! We all sit punching into our keyboards and we nod a brief greeting.

Punters in early twenties breeze in shattering the moment, flip-flopped to greet friends with shrieks and hugs.

“Ooh! How lovely to see you,” squeals one young lady, around eighteen, far too loud and with hips to die for. Her cut off jeans end just below the knee where finely toned, tanned calves shine newly waxed.

“Let’s sit outside.”

The lads all follow her clad in skater shorts, so low they border on the obscene, showing their Calvin Klein underpants, with clashing shirts. Another table emits a conversation, mostly about the Robins’ promotion to Division 1, in which intonation seems to have lost its way. Inflection distorts each statement into a question where everything goes up at the end?

I nibble on Mixed Olives & Breads with balsamic and olive oil glaze at £4.95 – this I can recommend though a little too much bread for me - and sip my coke as I watch various people join together, their sole reason for meeting seemingly so they can whip out their mobiles and text someone else. Silence reigns while their fingers tap furiously in unison. Maybe they’re even texting each other. Has the art of conversation died to this extent?

Not for the ladies-who-lunch who, in their sixties, possibly even seventies, discuss the world at large and mutual acquaintances. They’re glammed up to the hilt in soft cottons and silks and lilting summer hats. They eat delicately their summer salad, every so often wincing at the shrieks of the young.

An hour later just as I have a mouthful of bread, interesting man gets up. He comes over. Struggling to chew, speak and swallow at the same time and catching crumbs with my hand, I begin to chat to him. He takes a seat with me. The crumpled sheet he’s wearing as a shirt reveals a tan. Twenty minutes later, I have his number and a dinner date for Saturday. Just enough time to get my hair done, a wax and I think I’ll just pop back to those shops for some new gear. Not a bad morning’s work!

Saturday Night

Oh well, yes, Monica, i know... i DID say i was staying in, doing nothing much in particular on Saturday night, washing my hair, cleaning, blah blah, it's true. You may have noticed though, my sudden departure around midnight, quite rudely in fact, from our conversation without explanation. I apologise for that and say, simply, I had a surprise visitor. dot dot dot. I'd thought bf was working but no!... well... you know how it is... forgive me? Yes in case you're wondering, the shoes kill. Not really made for walking...

Coffee Break - Book Review by Lynn 'Last Family in England' by Matt Haig