Um … the far side of 30? As in the far, far, far side …
A Rover 600 that looks like a banger and sounds even worse. What can I say? I’m a struggling author.
Dude, sorry if this is your job, but these folk drive me NUTS! They knock the door as though they’re conducting a police raid. Then they smile, say, ‘sorry to bother you but …’ to which your head goes ABORT! ABORT! whilst you mouth says, ‘sorry, not interested’. Yet they still keep on talking like they haven’t heard. More likely, they CHOSE not to hear. Mr B’s most radical deterrent used was years ago when he had a couple of snakes. Answering the door with those around his neck sent the salesmen packing faster than if he’d opened his mouth. Personally, I find rolling my eyes and just closing the door works just as well.
It’s a country. It’s my country. Somewhere near the middle of that blobby spot below the north is where you’ll find a place called Birmingham (or Solihull, if we’re being pedantic about the borough I legally live in). But that’s also around about where you’ll find me.
Mr B & the Mini-Me’s (otherwise known as The Man, The Boy and The Girl). Best friend in real life (as in I actually get to see her in the flesh): the one and only Carla Huxley. Here’s looking at you, sweets.
WORLD DOMINATION one Holloway Pack story at a time! Okay, a bit dramatic so I’ll narrow it down to my 2012 goals. To: 1) Talk publisher into a contract for Holloway Pack 3. 2) Write Holloway Pack 2.5, which will be a novella. 3) Knock out a couple of shorts. 4) Write my first ever YA novel.
Ha! Anyone who has known me for the last 5? 10? years, will have heard this utterance leave my mush. This has got to be my most said, most overused, most versatile (because it has covered so many reactions/emotions) saying of all time.
Oh, yeah. Without a doubt. I leave the extroversy to Mr B. He’s the cheese to my chalk.
I wanted to share some of my favourite jokes before I realised most of them would probably be too rude to publish. So I’ll go with my most favourite clean one. This was told to me years ago by a guy called Peter Dyer. As it’s impossible to tell it without accompanying facial expressions, I shall do my best to explain how you can tell it to someone YOU know. Here goes.
Two turtles sitting in a bar.
One turtle says: <stick bottom lip riiiiiiiiight out>Do you find that when it rains your bottom lip gets full of water?
And the other turtle says: <stick top lip riiiiiiiiiiiight out>No.
I shan’t bore you with how me and Pete almost fell over laughing at that. And damn, that was around 12 years ago. Still makes me giggle.
My first kiss, that is. Aged 5 (sssshhh, I’m not as wanton as this admittance suggests). School playground. With Hywel Jopling. What? It’s not like we kissed and scarpered. He’s still in touch through social networking.
Ah, yes, where you might find me lurking. Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest … the usual spots … but my most favourite place to hang out is Goodreads.
I’m not a singular genre listener. My moods take me to all different places. From Nirvana, to Nickleback, to Kings of Leon, to Train, to Adele, to Tom Jones, to Alanis Morisette, to David Gray, to Michael Buble …
Food. I’m pretty useless when it comes to eating. I have toast for breakfast. Forget to eat lunch. Discover I’m starving around 4. Shakily make dinner. Then snack in the evening on all that stuff I shouldn’t. But I love homemade pizza (yes, from scratch), and beef stroganoff, and bacon on toast, and cakes made from Betty Crocker mixes, and chocolate, and anything Mr B makes me except for the time he tried to send me into kidney failure by adding salt to salmon he’d already doused in soy sauce. Took 3 days for my kidneys to recover, I tell ya.
Whilst me and the fam don’t get out as much as we should, we certainly make up for it when we get some away time together. West Wales is a common haunt of ours, due to the MIL living there and putting up with us taking over her house whenever we want. And every time we go, Mr B drags us all out for some fresh air on coastal walks. It’s refreshing on the mind and pretty darn beautiful on the eyes.
I have 4 cats (1 added since my Bio was written) and 1 dog. Cats: Storm, Fluffy, Daphne, Grey. Dog: Li-lu (named after the bird in Fifth Element). Though I wonder if the 4th cat should be considered half a cat, as a year after birth he’s still only the size of a young dwarf rabbit (if that). He also thinks he’s a dog. He playfights with the dog and rolls around with the dog. A sometimes the cats even sleep with the dog. Though I guess, one could argue that maybe the dog thinks she’s a cat.
Lots of queerness happens around me and the family. Our house has been haunted. And The Girl has seen dead people. All I can say is Stratford upon Avon and Pembroke Castle is RIFE will presences invisible to most. My son used to have a Sing & Snore Ernie (from Sesame St) when he was a kid. Laid down, he’d sing a bit of Twinkle Twinkle before getting slower and slower and then all a sudden his chest would rise and fall and the snoring would start. But if you sat him up, he’d loudly declare: I feel great! Except he used to sit up and shout that a lot. Usually of a night. When we were in bed. Those nights, he got wedged in the toy box as punishment. Oh, yeah, and orbs: see those bouncing round the bedroom sometimes, too.
I read a lot. But here’s some of my favourites: Genres: PNR and urban fantasy, of course—though I do read other stuff for a break. Series’: Georgina Kincaid, Lincoln Rhyme, and BDB. Book characters: Rhevenge (BDB); Tripp Fox (Hide & seek); Seth Mortensen (sp? Georgina Kincaid); Zsadist (BDB); Daemon (Lux series) … Hmmm, they all seem to be men. Weird. Latest authors to surprise or wow me are: Jennifer L. Armentrout and David Wailing.
Which leads me to the natural question of Sam or Dean? Sam … or Dean?
Now this is a toughie. Coz I love Dean. He’s witty, he’s sexy, he’s hot, he has amazing eyes and thighs. And I also love Sam for his vulnerability and cuteness and the hints of his other side in the early days when his eyes turning black signified we were about to see something a little sexy from him. So I’ll just say: Both! Ha!
I don’t watch much television. 1) I don’t have the time. 2) Not much on there interests me and keeps my head out of JABland. But I am currently recording True Blood season 4 and Being Human season 4 (I think I have the seasons right—the latest ones showing in the UK, anyway)
Damn, I hate these horrid, miscreantic devices. Drive me nuts. I’d rather stick on my cream fleecy hat and get soaking wet. Who on earth invented them? Couldn’t they have come up with something that doesn’t make me look like Mary Poppins on a bender? ‘Nuff said.
Ah, yes, places I would love to visit. I have to admit, this list is growing and growing, the more awesome people I virtually meet and would love the opportunity to hook up with. But here are my main places: Alaska, North Carolina, Holland, Hereford, Sunderland, Georgia, Prague, Sicily, Italy … probably more than I can remember on the spot to add.
Woods & Werewolves
Love werewolves. Mr thinks I might have been one of those in another life, too. Oddly, though, I don’t seem to have any photographs of those.
Actually, I prefer subtle over x-rated. The stuff that kind of leaves stuff to the imagination or allows you inside the characters head to understand how they’re feeling rather than ‘what’ they’re feeling.
Yellow is a pretty prominent colour in the Belfield life. The Girl’s favourite colour is yellow. Mr B’s favourite colour is yellow (his motorbike is yellow). If I wear yellow, Mr B always smiles (not sure why, it makes me look like a washed out banana). We love the song ‘Yellow’.
Sleep. Love it. Couldn’t possibly function without it. So I have a pretty set routine of going to bed at a reasonable time every night, climbing into the right side of the bed, falling asleep to scenes from my current Holloway Pack story. Wake up to scenes from my current Holloway Pack story—unless my muse is being bad and goes off on a tangent in search of other stuff to torture me with. And I NEVER sleep in the day.
So … that’s me. See? Not that weird, after all … am I?