The world from my window

It's New Year's Eve, and this year I'm spending it in Lush Places. Not for me a pomegranate smashed near the door to spread the seeds of good luck on New Year's Day. I don't think they stock them in our village shop. In any case, last year, back in Corfu, it took us ages to get the stain out. Tonight, we'll be hanging out in Lush Places, where the Dorset villagers will be dressed in 70s and 80s for a vinyls night in the local pub and we'll be noshing on a bring-something-to-the-table get-together for thirteen, or, as I'd rather call it, twelve and one for luck. Superstitious? Me? Of course I am. And then we'll all get together for a few drinks in the pub before spilling out into the Square for Old Lang Syne, random kissing and a game of Let's Stop The Traffic . Before that, I need to decide what hat to wear tonight after rashly sending out an email saying our theme should be Get Your Head In Gear For The New Year (as mine most certa

Well, back in Blighty and the weather vane is toppling over. When it spins round it's like when Hitchcock met Dali. It's like a metaphor for my life at the moment. Even before the winds and gales started up, I was confused about which way to go, what with one foot in Corfu and my heart in England. You see, while the children and grandchildren talked about One Direction over Christmas dinner, for me it's more like every which way but loose. The reason I haven't blogged for ages is that I just don't quite know where I am. Still, the New Year and 2014 holds lots of exciting things. Maybe more books, certainly more Corfu and maybe a new job, if anyone will have me. Who knows? It's best not to plan too much. The main thing is I am healthy, if not wealthy and wise. In the meantime, I am soaking up the good old English weather -  literally - and all things Westcountry. Across the UK we've had floods and gales. My friend Tuppence's barbecue took

I'm here in Corfu trying to write a book about our big fat Greek gap year. It ought to be easy. I've lived it, taken a whole host of photos and made note after note after note. Hades, I've written some of it already. But it isn't easy. The problem is that so much happened in the last twelve months, I almost don't know where to start. Maybe the beginning. That's as good a place as any. I need to stop editing as I go along and just do it. Then I can edit afterwards. But it's easier said than done. My mind wanders to what's going in the book and what isn't. There is enough material for a sequel already, and maybe another one. I think about Corfu and how much it has changed over the years. And also how much it hasn't. There are some views of the island which haven't changed very much at all. And then some which have changed completely. This was brought home to me when I saw the cover of a book designed by a friend of mine, Jiannis Mou

We're back in Greece now after a few weeks in England where we caught up with family, friends, Dorset and a book signing or two.   After a bit of a party in Lush Places, no sooner had we disrobed from our Poseidon and Medusa chitons (the Greek forerunner of the Roman toga), with a trail of wigs, rubber snakes and seaweed in our wake, then it was up in an aeroplane and a turbulent landing at Athens before a six-hour wait for a plane to Corfu. Back in Agios Magikades, one of dear friends had put in a few welcoming touches to the house.   Freshly picked clementines and Christmas decorations. Lovely. We had a coffee with our neighbour who showed us his new fire and then settled down to a roaring log fire and The Lincoln Lawyer, an American film on television with Greek subtitles. This morning, the sun takes its time to climb up over the mountain. There is a chill in the air and a strip of mist poised at the bottom of the valley. The sound of dogs barking ricochets

  After last nights's launch of The Bridport Press, I'm steering you towards a post I've just written for their  website . Normal service to be resumed as soon as possible. That's about it. Love Maddie x

This past year in Corfu, I've had the time and discipline to get on with various writing projects which have been languishing around for far too long. And those characters who have lain abandoned like the toys in Toy Story , with bits of things missing, back story only sketched, motivation and desires just outlined, have at last taken on a life of their own. Earlier this year, I was able to bring out my novella, A Year in Lush Places , a light-hearted, affectionate look at English country life based on an election year's worth of blogging from Dorset. Sales are going well and the reviews on Amazon have been lovely, thank you. And now there's  A Town Like This , a comic romp inspired by my early days as a local newspaper in small towns in Devon and Dorset. Likened by one reviewer to Porterhouse Blue in places, the novel is being launched alongside two other debuts by West Dorset writers. You can read more about that on The Bridport Press website , where you

There are a number of things you shouldn't do when you're angry. Writing a resignation letter is one of them. I once knew someone who did that in a fit of pique. They wrote it, seemingly with their own bile, posted it, immediately regretted it and had to camp out on their employer's doorstep in the hope they might be able to prise the letter from the postman's hands over the next few days. It didn't work and they were out of a job. Blogging or tweeting in anger is not to be recommended either. That's why I've waited several days to post this. At the weekend, Mr Grigg and I drove up to Bristol for the south west heat of the Great British Care Awards. We had nominated my autistic stepson's carer, a 24-year-old with the calmest, most respectful attitude you could ever come across, as a carer of the year. He and we were chuffed when he was shortlisted. This young man is a diamond, he really is. He didn't win but he shared in his colleague'

That's about it. Love Maddie x

Back in the Shire - for a while at least - we get quickly back into the swing of things. A  night out at a local village hall where the smart money was on pink fluffy pigs. Mad really. Only in Dorset. And in the final race, our table of twelve turned to Nobby Odd Job. He had been winning all night. We needed a hot tip. 'Perky Rasher,' he said. 'Put your money on Perky Rasher.' So we did. Dear old Perky came in at a cracking pace and outperformed his rivals by a curly tail and a trotter. And then Nobby won a prize on the raffle. There were snorts all round as Nobby (now known as Perky Rasher) brought back his prize of a pink and fluffy wind-up pig and sent it shuffling and snuffling along the table. And lots of money raised for Movember . That's about it. Love Maddie x

Hey, blog reader from Boise, Idaho! Are you a real person, a cyber stalker, a spammer or a computer programme that's got stuck? According to my Feedjit  live traffic feed, you've visited this blog I don't know how many times, over and over again. I want to know who you are. A publisher maybe, a film director (please, oh, please) or an American lady who just likes reading about English and Greek village life? I asked on Twitter and someone suggested you might be the Morning DJ at WOLD. Go on, tell me who you are. I'm intrigued. That's about it. Love Maddie x

I've just wrapped up two copies of A Year in Lush Places to send off to the winners of the Smitten by Britain competition. One's heading to Houston, Texas. I do hope the winner sends me a picture of herself reading the book wearing a Dallas -style cowboy hat or at the helm of the space centre and about to launch a rocket. The other, unbelievably, is in the same county as me - Dorset - but at the eastern end. Right where those Turberville tombs lie in the church and inspired Thomas Hardy to write Tess . Maybe the local winner will oblige by sending me a Dorset-themed picture of herself, A Year in Lush Places and a sheep. Or maybe not. That's about it. Love Maddie x

We've only been home in Dorset a week and my feet haven't touched the ground. There's been the surprise party, a midweek grouse or two, a book club meeting, a village fete meeting, a big band spectacular, afternoon tea and a re-run of the harvest supper video, trips into Bridport, Beaminster and Sherborne - three lovely Dorset towns - and a meeting of The Bridport Press to discuss an exciting new venture. There have been haircuts and dental appointments, a car to service and a falling out with and then a falling back in with a village stalwart when she and I realised we were talking at crossed purposes. There has been freelance work to do, two business meetings and an outrageous, laugh-a-minute Sunday lunch with two old friends. There have been family and friends to catch up with, children to hug and animals to stroke. There have been waves and smiles and kisses. There has been a fantastic local reaction to   A Year in Lush Places , the novella based on the Dorse