Monday, 29 July 2013

Summer Ice Cream Social!

Life at a few beats slower, yes that's life on our little pebble in the ocean, but this week, I'm going virtual to North Carolina to enjoy ice cream and answer some probing questions.

So if it's a 99, a vanilla cornet or something more exotic like a Magnum, slip on over and join us for 
A Summer Ice Cream Social



http://www.avalongraphics.org/blog/welcome-pauline-barclay-to-the-summer-ice-cream-social-at-avalon-graphics/

Saturday, 27 July 2013

Just Posters!

I really should be writing, but I have fallen into a dark hole with my latest book, nothing that given time and a little more confidence won't get me back on track, I say nervously with everything crossed!

My new book is about what happens when deception takes a serious turn and the consequences are dire. Even more so when the deceiver deceives them self. It's a tad complicated and I need to ensure I tell the story in the correct sequence of events. Because of this chapter One has been written several times! Despite this need to continue to re visit chapter One, I have written 40,000 of the plot so far, but the questions is can I write more?

So as my brain struggles with plots and putting the pieces of a large jigsaw together, today I decided to play at something I love to do and that is design posters. The idea behind all my posters is to promote the books I have already written and are published.

Today I fiddled around with a photo I had taken some time ago and this is the result.
What do you think?



As always, huge thanks for stopping by and have a fabby sunny weekend. 

Thursday, 25 July 2013

The Hippie Shake with Rosalind Adam


As my latest book, Storm Clouds Gathering is set in 1965 I thought it would be great fun to take a peek at that amazing era. This week the lovely Rosalind Adam joins The Hippie Shake and shares some of the memories that represent that wonderful era, the 1960’s.





Those Innocent 1960s

When Pauline asked me if I would write a post about memories of the 1960s I knew exactly which photograph I would centre it around, It was a picture of me dressed all in black, black jeans, black jumper, my hair long and black and my guitar hung over my shoulder. I’ve searched every album and every carrier bag – and in my house there are many bags stuffed full of photographs. I’ve spent a whole morning being nostalgic about my children when they were cute kiddies and my dear little past pets, but I can’t find ‘that’ picture anywhere. Neither can I find any suitable illustration of my life in the 60s. I suppose we didn’t carry our cameras around with us then like we do now.

So I shall have to describe my 60s life in words. Every week I went to De Montfort Hall pop concerts. I saw every 60s star. I screamed at every top of the pops performer. I queued all night and got tickets to see The Beatles when Mum and Dad thought I was safely tucked up at a friend’s house. I’ve mentioned many times about me chasing Mick Jagger, he hitting me across the face and me swooning in response. When I wasn’t dressed in black I wore flowered trouser suits with bells round my neck and flowers in my hair or tiny mini skirts that were hardly wider than a belt. I knew the words to every pop song and the name of every pop artist. I was obsessed with the music and the music was good.

But looking back now I realise how innocent it all was. I never took drugs. I wouldn’t have known how to get them even if I’d wanted to. For me sex was something that only happened in comic stories. I’ve often wondered if the tales of the wild 1960s were pure fiction or was I unusual – innocent and shielded from reality. Maybe that wild life was happening on London’s Carnaby Street but not in Leicester – not for me anyhow.


A little more about Rosalind



I have been writing professionally for ten years and was a teacher for over twenty years. I am a wife, mother, grandmother and an obedient servant to two oversized grey cats called Mabel and Charlie. I have lived and worked in Leicester all my life. I sometimes think it would be interesting to live somewhere else but I suspect I would struggle to find anywhere quite so exciting or culturally diverse. My Children’s History of Leicester book is selling especially well since the discovery of Richard III’s body under a Leicester car park and I have now become obsessed with anything to do with Richard III.

A list of my Publications:
Books:

Children’s History Leicester, Hometown World Publishers, May 2011, ISBN 978-1849931496

Bathtime Rap, Picture book, Franklin Watts, 2008, ISBN 970-0-7496-7951-4 
Jewish Voices, A history of a community affected by World War II, English Heritage, 2009 

Articles and Short stories

Short stories published in Yours, Woman's Weekly, Bella, Best, Take a Break, Chat and My Weekly from 1998 to 2002

The 1950s Menu, Yours Yearbook 2010 

The work behind the project: Jewish Voices, NAWE Quarterly Summer 2009  

With Two Hats On: therapeutic writing workshops, Lapidus Quart. Autumn 2007
  
Birds' Eye View; taking part in the bird count, The Lady August/September 1999 



Rosalind’s Links



Wednesday, 24 July 2013

Out and About!


Doggie chews, lippie, mobile phone to name just some of the things I keep in my bag, if you'd like to know more, then please pop on over to the lovely Mandy Baggot's blog and all will be revealed in her special feature, In the Sack!

I'm also revealing my writing place over at Dizzy C's fabby blog, plus there is a chance to win a Kindle copy of Storm Clouds Gathering. 
So if you fancy a copy, please nip on over!


As always a zillion thanks for stopping by and tomorrow it's another Hippie Shake and it's with the wonderful Rosalind Adams, so please come back!



Monday, 22 July 2013

Sitting Round My Pool- Sheryl Browne




It’s another hot and sunny day and sitting round my pool is the talented and lovely Sheryl Browne. So please help your self to one of the special cocktails my waiter is mixing, relax on a recliner and enjoy the company of my wonderful guest.

Sheryl, thank you for taking time out of your manic schedule to come down here and have a chat, it’s been ages since we did this and I’m dying to find out about your new book. So let’s start. I have read two of your books, which I loved, you are now publishing a brand new novel. Learning to Love,  an intriguing title, tell us about it.

Hi, Pauline! Lovely to be here, sipping cocktails around the pool (I love your waiter!)

Ah, the title. I was originally torn over that. I’d written a short, entitled The Memory Box, which was accepted by the Birmingham City University as part of their Anthology. The Memory Box tells the story of a withdrawn young boy encouraged to grieve the loss of his mother. Collecting those things that remind him of her together in a shoebox, photographs, her perfume and such like, the boy is able to dwell on the happy memories, rather than the sad.




As the story grew around the short, however, Learning to Love seemed a more fitting title. As mentioned, at the heart of Learning to Love is a little boy who is grieving the loss of his mother. Angry and withdrawn, ten-year old Jake blames his dad for the death of his mother. Dr David Adams, Jake’s father, is carrying the heavy burden of guilt around the death of his wife, who had Lymphatic Leukemia, and was pregnant with their second child. For all his training as a doctor, David had been as ill-equipped to deal with her decision to delay anti-leukemic treatment for the baby’s sake, as he is to deal with his son’s grief. Before his wife died, he made a mistake, a terrible mistake, causing their fragile family to fall apart. He feels Jake is right to blame him and, now alone with his son, he has no idea how to reach him.

Andrea Kelly, David’s neighbour, mum of three and carer to her dotty mother, is forced by circumstances to take refuge at David’s house and becomes instrumental in bringing this lost little boy and his equally lost father together. Andrea, too, has relationship issues and, as her attraction to David grows, she wonders whether she can love a man who is, by his own admission, flawed.

Learning to Love therefore explores the fragility of love, life and relationships. Can David learn to laugh again, to love again? Does he deserve to? Can his son learn to love him, to forgive him?

Your books often have a hidden moral in the story as they focus on some of the issues that life throws up and you always deal with them sensitively and always with sense of humour. Is this intentional?

I like to write romantic comedy because I hope to allow people a little escapism and also to leave the reader with that all-important feel-good factor. I think when we laugh at characters in a rom com, we’re actually laughing at ourselves, because it’s a familiar, comedic or embarrassing situation we could – maybe have – found ourselves in. I also believe there are highs and lows and humour to be found in most life events, albeit they might be traumatic at the time. Basically, I want to write about real people, dealing with real life events, someone the reader identifies with and wants to get to know. A story portraying characters readers can relate to and hopefully laugh with as they fall over life’s obstacles – because the reader is empathising with the character, because they’ve been there. So, yes, I do like to look at situation that might need a little more emotional exploration.



In Somebody to Love, for instance, again I had a single father, this time of a special needs child, who had a lot riding on any relationship he entered into, for obvious reasons. This snippet from a review, one of several reviews of which I am extremely proud, tells me I achieved what I set out to: This fabulous book is a Rom Com with a difference. It’s funny, its heart-breaking, and it will either make you sigh with contentment or scream with frustration.  At times it made me weep. The special needs thread running through this book will tug at your heartstrings and give you a greater understanding of what it’s like trying to find love when your life is full of complications. Through this book, Sheryl Browne has captured the essence of love, life, family and the fear of giving away your heart. She has also perfectly captured the highs and lows of parenting a special needs child.
Many, many thanks to JB Johnston of Brook Cottage Books – and all the lovely reviewers who give selflessly of their time.



You have written five books are all of them published with Safhat Publishing how did this happen?

I certainly do – and I’m chuffed to bits! Long story, short, although I’ve previously been published in the US, I struggled to get published here in the UK. Two of my books got picked up by an agent but, sadly, they didn’t get picked up by a publisher.

The bug, however, had bitten. Being a passionate soul who would wither and die without her writing, I kept at it, enlisting editorial help, drafting and redrafting, taking on board feedback; using every piece of criticism constructively and – the dreaded part of the writing process – submitting.  Eventually my current lovely publisher, Safkhet Publishing, read some of my work, liked my style and commissioned me to write my debut book, Recipes for Disaster (Sexilicious Romantic Comedy combined with Fab, Fun Recipes)!

I was so nervous waiting for their initial feedback I’d almost bitten my fingernails down to my elbows. And then they said Yes! They loved it! Music to a writer’s ears.  Needless to say, I was euphoric. Thanks here to Snoops, co-writer and superstar of Recipes for Disaster. Safkhet then went on to read my other books and loved my work so much they opened a whole new imprint and Safkhet Soul was born. Yay!



Have you plans for more books?

Breaking news here: Safkhet have also accepted another of my books, a thriller(!), to be published under their Safkhet Select imprint.  I am totally thrilled that my babies have found a safe home, to say the very least.

I do also have another two WIPS – and another burgeoning idea.  I really do think I’m seriously afflicted and, alas, there is no cure. I have to write!


When you are not writing what do you do to relax?

I love to read, everything and anything.  I love to read mostly whilst out boating. Preferably when we have lots of sunshine and no locks!

  

What is your favourite drink?
Tea. I’m a little tea-belly – by day (green tea first thing).  By night, I have a wee glass of white wine or good rose.



If you won the lottery what would be the first thing you would buy?

A new boat and a dog rescue centre.  Maybe I could buy a huge, big boat and have an on-board dog rescue centre? Hmmm?


A Huge thanks to Sheryl for talking about her writing and here is a little more about this lovely lady.




A little about top selling author, Sheryl Browne

Sheryl Browne brings you Fabulous, Funny, Heart-breaking Romantic Comedy! Her novel Recipes for Disaster, commissioned by Safkhet Publishing, was shortlisted for the Innovation in Romantic Fiction Award.  Sheryl now has five books published under the Safkhet Soul imprint -

Recipes for Disaster - Sexilicious Romantic Comedy combined with Fab, Fun Recipes.
Somebody to Love – Sigh with contentment, scream with frustration. At times you will weep.
Warrant for Love - Three couples in a twisting story that resolves perfectly.
A Little Bit of Madness – White Knight in Blue rescues The Harbour Rest Home.
Learning to Love – Exploring the Fragility of Love, Life and Relationships.

- and has since been offered a further three book contract!  A member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, Sheryl grew up in Birmingham, UK, where she studied Art & Design.  She works part-time in her own business and is a mum and a foster mum to disabled dogs.





Here is the blurb for Learning to Love

Learning to Love
Exploring the Fragility of Love, Life, and Relationships

Widower, Dr David Adams, has recently moved to the village – where no one knows him, ergo there’s no fuel for neighbourhood gossip – to start afresh with is ten year old son, if only he can get to a place where his son wants to speak to him. Angry and withdrawn, Jake blames his dad for the death of his mother, and David doesn’t know how to reach him.

Andrea Kelly has too many balls in the air. With three children and a “nuts” mother to care for, her fianc√© can’t fathom why she wants to throw something else into the mix and change her career. Surely she already has too much on her plate? Because her plates are skew-whiff and her balls are dropping off all over the place, Andrea points out. She needs to make changes. Still her fianc√©, who has a hidden agenda, is dead-set against it.

When Andrea’s house burns mysteriously to the ground and Andrea and her entourage are forced to move in with the enigmatic Dr Adams, however, the village drums soon start beating, fuel aplenty when it turns out someone does know him – the woman carrying his baby.





… and here is an excerpt


‘Jake?’ David knocked on his son’s door.
Would he answer this time? Probably not.
 David reached for the handle, only to find the door yanked open by Ryan.
‘Hi. How’s it going?’ David smiled at the gangly teenager, who, far from being the bad influence David had worried he might be, seemed to be sprouting a halo along with some actual stubble—and who David reckoned deserved a medal for looking out for Jake.
‘Yeah, good. Just helping Jake sort some stuff out.’
‘Oh?’ David glanced past Ryan into the room, to where Jake sat cross-legged on the floor, no PlayStation control in sight, amazingly. ‘What stuff would that be then, Jake?’
 David waited, but took his cue when Ryan motioned him on in.
‘Off to get some more Pepsi, mate,’ Ryan said diplomatically. ‘Want some?’
Jake nodded, but didn’t look up.
‘Back in ten.’ Ryan drooped out, skinny fit jeans still clinging to hips and looking every inch the typical allergic-to-anything-strenuous teenager, which belied his caring attitude. David owed the kid, that was for sure.
He owed Jake, too, big time.
 David turned his attention back to his son, who was surrounded by a sea of photographs, he realised. Photographs of Michelle, from the albums in the spare room.
Cautiously, David walked across to stand by Jake’s side. Then, hands in pockets, he waited again, wondering what to say that could even begin to heal their relationship. What would he want to hear, if he were Jake?
Sorry perhaps? Wholly inadequate, David knew, but it might be a start.
He looked down at his son, whose head was bent in concentration of his endeavours.
He needed a haircut.
Needed a lot of things.
 David closed his eyes as he noticed the bottle of perfume tucked in the corner of Jake’s Adidas shoebox.
Michelle’s perfume.
Because Jake wanted something to remind him of her.
‘Need any help, Jake?’ David asked softly.
Jake didn’t answer. That was okay. David didn’t really expect him to. He swallowed back a lump in his throat, then took a gamble, crouched down next to Jake—and silently waited.
Biding his time, he studied the photographs quietly alongside his son. ‘You’ve chosen all the good ones,’ he ventured.
Jake did respond then, somewhere between a nod and a shrug.
‘Not many fun ones though.’ David reached for a photograph. One he’d taken himself on what turned out to be their last time at the theme park together: Michelle, Jake in front of her on the log flume, both shrieking with laugher and soaked through to the skin.
Probably the last time she had laughed—with him.
 David breathed in, hard. ‘I did make her sad, Jake,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t help much, but … I wish I hadn’t.’
Jake’s head dropped even lower.
‘She did laugh though, you know, Jake. With you.’
 David placed the photograph carefully in the box. ‘Alton Towers,’ he said, ‘summer before last. She laughed so much she had to dash to the loo, remember?’
Jake dragged the back of his hand under his nose.
‘She couldn’t have been that happy without you, Jake. You gave her the gift of laugher. That’s something to be glad about. To be proud of.’
 David stopped, his chest filling up as he watched a slow tear fall from his son’s face.
 David hesitated, then rested a hand lightly on Jake’s shoulder.
Jake didn’t shrug him off.
‘You won her a stuffed toy that day, do you remember? What was it? A tiger?’
‘Tigger.’ Jake finally spoke.
‘That’s right,’ David said, his throat tight. ‘Tigger.’
‘She kept it in the car,’ Jake picked up in a small voice.
The car she never arrived at the hospital in, David realised, overwhelming guilt slicing through him. ‘She kept a whole family of furry friends in the car. I’m surprised there was room for her.’
Jake’s mouth twitched into a small smile. ‘She talked to them.’ He glanced up at David, his huge blue eyes glassy with tears.
‘That was the little girl inside her. The little girl you made laugh.’ David squeezed Jake’s shoulder.
He actually felt like whooping. Like punching the air. Like picking Jake up and hugging him so hard … He’d looked at him. Full on. No anger.
 David closed his eyes, relief washing over him. ‘I have one of Mum’s stuffed toys,’ he said throatily. ‘One she kept. Not Tigger, but … Do you want me to fetch it?’
Jake nodded.
‘Right.’ David smiled. ‘Back in two.’ He dragged his forearm across his eyes as he headed for his own room. He had something else, too. Something he’d wanted to give Jake before, but somehow couldn’t.
The antique locket he’d bought Michelle for her thirtieth was in the bedside drawer. David collected it, ran his thumb over the engraved rose gold surface of it. If Jake needed something to remind him of his mother, this was it.
‘Bedtime Bear,’ David announced, joining Jake back on the floor. ‘Your very first toy.’ He handed his son the scruffy little white bear.
Jake laughed—and David really did feel like crying then.
‘I have something else for you, Jake.’ He passed him the locket. ‘It was very special to her,’ he said gently, as Jake’s eyes fell on the photograph of himself inside it. ‘She wore it right next to her heart. And that,’ he went on as Jake looked at the lock of hair on the opposite side of the locket, ‘is your hair and hers, entwined.’
Jake went very quiet.
‘Okay?’ David asked.
Jake nodded vigorously. ‘Okay,’ he said, around a sharp intake of breath.
 David reached out, ran his hand through Jake’s unruly crop, and then allowed it to stray to his shoulder. He wanted very much to hold him, to reassure him. But Jake’s body language was tense. It would take time, David knew, but maybe someday, Jake would let him back in.













Sheryl’s Links
Sheryl is a Loveahappyending Lifestyle Author and Feature Editor.
Twitter: @sherylbrowne









Other fabulous sites hosting Sheryl's Blog Tour


21st July 2013
DizzyC’s Little Book Blog - www.dizzycslittlebookblog.blogspot.com
Brook Cottage Books – www.brookcottagebooks.blogspot.com
Patricia Sands - http://patriciasands.wordpress.com/
Mandy Baggot – www.mandybaggot.com                                     

22nd July 2013
Julia Hughes - http://www.wordspi.com/
Brook Cottage Books – http://brookcottagebooks.blogspot.com


Thursday, 18 July 2013

The Hippie Shake with Madalyn Morgan


As my latest book, Storm Clouds Gathering is set in 1965 I thought it would be great fun to take a peek at that amazing era. This week ,Actress, Writer, Journalist and Radio Presenter, Madalyn Morgan joins The Hippie Shake and shares some of the memories and pics that represent that wonderful era, the 1960’s.


As a teenager in the 1960s, writer Madalyn Morgan was more Rock ‘N’ Roll than Hippy Hippy Shake. I was a pub kid.  Brought up on Coca Cola, Smiths Crisps, the jukebox top 40 (6d for 1 play, or 3 for a shilling) and holidays in Majorca with my mum and her friends, most of whom were Landladies of pubs and hotels.     



For me the 1960s took off, literally, when I flew to America on my own in 1961, aged eleven.  In those days, a child travelling alone was really spoiled.  I sat in the cockpit with the pilot and helped the airhostesses serve food.  However, while I was doing this, someone stole my purse containing $300.  Luckily, a member of the crew found it hidden behind lose panelling in the toilet.     



Majorca, I was 16

Flying was fun, but it wasn’t until I arrived in America that my adventure began.  For six weeks, I lived on an ‘Indian’ Reservation in Minnesota with my aunt (my mother’s sister) and my uncle who was full-blooded Dakota Sioux.  His mother, Elder of the Dakota Sioux Council and direct descendent of the Great Sioux Chiefs, adopted me into the tribe.  I was so proud.


My time on the reservation was the best.  The Native American children taught me to swim (after I had almost drowned in the Minnesota River).  I slept in a tree house, trailed wild animals in the woods, come dangerously close to a skunk, and swapped my dresses, shoes and hats, for sneakers, pumps and bobby socks.   


The photograph above is of my Grandma, the Elder of the Dakota Council, who adopted me.

Thirty years later in 1992, she prepared a special meal in my honour, and gave me my Dakota name.  It is Waccantkiya Win, and means, Charitable Girl. 



In my dad's pub late 1960's

The M1 motorway was built from London, up to my hometown, Lutterworth.  And, because my parent’s pub was the first off the motorway, bands coming from the south regularly called in for a drink.  I remember meeting Paul Jones, Manfred Mann, and The kinks.  After the gigs the pubs were shut, so bands travelling south on the M1 used to stop at the Blue Boar Service station.  My friends and I would drive down and sit around drinking coffee, trying to look as if we too had come from somewhere interesting.  One night we met Geno Washington and The Ram Jam Band, and Eric Burdon and The Animals.

My mum took my friends and me to see The Rolling Stones at Rugby Granada in 1964 (£1.10s a ticket), The Beatles at De Montfort Hall Leicester in 1965, and Cliff Richards in 1966.  Cliff was expensive at £2.10s.



My acting career might have begun in 1965, when I auditioned at ATV in Birmingham.  I was offered a role in a new series called ‘Crossroads’ but my mum wouldn’t let me leave home.




I joined the local amateur dramatics group and trained to be a hairdresser.  I earned £1.17s.6d a week and paid 2/-6d in NI.  However, my dad paid me £10 to run dances and discos in the pub at the weekends.  Eventually, after two successful businesses, I gave up hairdressing and went to Drama College in London

During thirty-six years as a professional actress and member of the Actors Union Equity, I was lucky enough to play many good roles, and work with some good actors – male and female.




Above: Me, playing the Prostitute in, Godspell (set in the 1960s), at the Young Vic Theatre, London

I gave up my acting career for love, and a mortgage, and then love gave me up.  It was while I was working in the city, starved of anything remotely artistic, that I began a correspondence course with, The Writers Bureau.  And, I loved it.  I got the same buzz finding the truth in the characters I was writing about as I did in the characters I played on stage.  For me the two processes are the same.      


A little more about Madalyn



Madalyn lives in Leicestershire.  After thirty-six years, she has swapped window boxes in South London for a garden in the market town of Lutterworth.  She has been an actress for over thirty years, performing on television, in Repertory Theatre and the West End.  She is also a radio presenter and journalist, writing articles for newspapers and magazines. 



  Madalyn's Book



Having successfully self-publishing her first Novel, Foxden Acres, Madalyn is currently writing her second.  Applause is the second of four books about the lives of four very different sisters during the Second World War.



Madalyn's links

Foxden Acres on Amazon, Paperback & Kindle: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00BCX59LE/ref=rdr_kindle_ext_tmb
Madalyn Morgan - Fiction Blog: http://madalynmorgansfiction.blogspot.co.uk/
Madalyn Morgan - Non-Fiction Blog: http://madalynmorgan.blogspot.co.uk/
Madalyn Morgan - Actress Website: www.madalynmorgan.com
Raiders Broadcast - Radio website: www.raidersbroadcast.com

Tuesday, 16 July 2013

Sometimes...

I hope you don’t mind me sharing this poem I wrote recently for a friend.


Sometimes…

Sometimes we can’t see the sun shinning for the tears in our eyes or hear the words of comfort for the noises in our head.

Sometimes we sit and stare because we can not stand and walk away or reach out to grasp the hand that is extended.

Sometimes our voice appears silent though we are screaming.

Sometimes we can be in the middle of a crowded room, yet feel totally alone.

Sometimes when we think nothing will change, it does because that crowded room can be filled with people who care, their hearts taking in your pain and their hands extended to hug you.

Sometimes we have to feel the warmth of others to realise we are not alone.




Thanks for stopping by and I’m sending sunny smiles and hugs to you.

Thursday, 11 July 2013

The Hippie Shake with Rosemary A Smith



As my latest book, Storm Clouds Gathering is set in 1965 I thought it would be great fun to take a peek at that amazing era. This week Author, Rosemary A Smith joins The Hippie Shake and shares some of the memories and pics that represent that wonderful era, the 1960’s.



Memories of the 1960s


There are many memories I have of the 1960s, which are imprinted on my mind forever. They were happy, carefree days and I treasure the memories I have, which  I’d love to share with you now.



Miners pale, pink lipstick and black eye shadow. Always bought from the make-up counter at Woolworths. Thick, yellow hairspray in plastic spray bottles, which when used ran down the side of the plastic bottle, congealing to a hard yellow blob! Lord knows what it did to our hair! I used to drive my mother mad in the morning, always using her dressing table mirror to see better to backcomb my hair, spraying the dreaded hairspray on her lovely dressing table! I can see now why she was cross!



Bouffant hairdos, coffee shops with not a sign of booze! Just coffee, milkshakes, and the jukebox. How I loved Do You Wanna Dance sung by Cliff Richard.
Then there was the miniskirts! Oh yes, really short! One old lady used to tell me to pull my hemline down or I’d suffer with my kidneys later in life!  White plastic boots reaching above our knees, not quite meeting the hemline of our miniskirt! And how I loved the spotted dresses, skirts and tops. Stiletto heels with pointed toe shoes. I used to struggle along the pavement at the seafront, too vain not to be dressed up. My bouffant hairdo being saved by a flimsy colourful scarf.



Sitting in the back row at the cinema with a young man. Kissing most of the way through the film (Oh yes we did ladies, don’t deny it!) And then sitting through another performance doing exactly the same.



Earning £1.17s.6d for a weeks work. Young people today would never believe it! Steam trains, the arrival of wimpy bars, the advent of 45rpm records costing £4s.6d.

As Mary Hopkins used to sing ‘Those Were The Days’ Oh yes they were. I’m always nostalgic for those times, and wish I could be transported back for just one day.


A little about Rosemary



I was born in London, and moved to Devon with my family in 1959. I have always been an avid reader since I was 7 years old, when I read Enid Blyton’s ‘Secret Island’. I’ve still got a copy now. This book gave me my love of mystery.
I am an incurable romantic! And love images of past times. Especially liking the Victorian Era, and the beautiful dresses ladies used to wear then.

My writing started in 2003 after I’d had a brain tumour removed. The neuro-surgeon suggesting I keep my brain active. But I don’t think writing a novella was what he had in mind!

My first Victorian Romantic Suspense novella was The Amethyst Brooch. I’d not set out to have it published, but a friend of mine who typed it up said I must send it somewhere, and I didn’t look back after that.

Six more novellas followed, which in turn have gone into large print with Ulverscroft, in their Linford Romance Library. The latest being The Butterfly Dance, which I believe is still available.

I live in a lovely chocolate box village in Devon, with my husband, and our black retriever Alfie. Sadly my eldest daughter, Paula, lost her 2year battle with cancer last November. We have two other daughters between us, with 8 grandchildren and 1 great-grandchild, who is a joy.

I’m so pleased I started writing, and through the writing I have made some wonderful friends. What would we do without books! …


One of the many of Rosemary's Books



Other titles by Rosemary



The Amethyst Brooch
The Bluebell Wood
The Brooding Lake
A Stranger’s Kiss
White Lace
Love In The Mist
The Butterfly Dance


Rosemary's Links





If you would like to share a memory from the 1960's please leave a comment below so that I ca get in touch with you.

Thanks Rosemary for coming along and sharing your wonderful memories.