mns  2008-05-10 13:22   

I seem to have driven to and from Ireland quite a lot in the last six weeks. The first trip was for the launch of An Angel at my Back together with the novellas by Chris Binchy, John Boyne, Sheila O’Flanagan, Peter Sheridan, and Kate Thompson. It was really good fun with a very relaxed atmosphere. It was wonderful seeing old friends and meeting new ones. I can never get over people's kindness, coming into town after a hard day's work, and giving their support.
Thank you.

We brought our ferry forward by a day because we were so concerned we might not get there in time as the seas were rough and there were warnings of cancellation.
For some reason we were upgraded and we got to sit in the lounge at the front of the ship. The sea was completely wild and the waves came up over the prow of the ship and crashed onto and over the window of the lounge, going right over the top and then pouring like a waterfall back down the glass.
Normally I would be as sick as a dog, but Travel Calm (BRILLIANT) and excitement at the sight of the waves combined to keep me completely well. The contradictory effects of the combination of the medication and the adrenalin made me feel much as I usually do.

A week later I was back in Ireland for a variety of interviews and meetings, after which my sister came back to Chester with me – her first trip here in a long time. In the early 80s she and I had gone to Greenham Common to protest – it seems a long time ago now, and on the way back we had stayed overnight in Chester in an inn, both having sworn never to stay in a tent again. In fact, the mere sight of a tent now makes my skin crawl. That winter – I’m not sure if it was ’82 or ’83 – was the coldest winter and it snowed heavily while we were in Greenham in our little tent. When we got to Chester we got into the bath and stayed there. It seemed to take forever to thaw out, and even now I still get pains in one of my feet – pains that started in the cold in Greenham.

JC, my sister and I went to Crosby Beach to see the sculptures. At first, as we approached the beach along the promenade, I truly thought there were people on the beach staring out at the sea and the wind farm. Even as we got closer I still thought some of the statues were real people. The fact that some were immersed in water up to their waists was the give-away about the others. I will try and put some of the photos onto this site, and if you happen to be near Crosby Beach, you really must go to see the sculptures. Anthony Gormley’s Iron Men are a sight to behold. The exhibition, if that is the right word, is known as Another Place. Can something be called an exhibition if it is permanently placed on a beach? Does the word ‘exhibition’ not have a transience about it? Never mind; I’m being pedantic. It is most definitely worth a visit.

Summer finally arrived in Chester after a weekend of thunder and lightning. These are sunny lovely days, much like when we moved here last year. My stress levels are rising as I prepare for the Derbyshire Literary Festival in June, followed immediately by a lecture in Germany. ‘Missing’ (my second novel) is on the university’s curriculum and I’ve been invited to go and talk. The funny (or perhaps odd) thing is that when I re-read ‘Missing’ last week, I was stunned at how it related to my life at the time I wrote it. I would have said, prior to the re-read, that it was a character driven novel telling the story of three sisters and how one of them disappeared. I would have said it dealt with survival in the face of loss.
All of this is true, except I had not seen that I was writing about my loss. I started writing it at the end of 2000 and finished in 2001. 2000 was the year I lost my husband and my mother, and hidden in the pages is that loss and how I survived.