Adrienne Dines

A good option….

Thu, 08 Feb 2007 11:56:55 +0000

Last week I was sent an email advising me to listen to a song by Lisa Koch on www.heylisa.com – MUSIC. The song was entitled, ‘Middle Aged Woman’ and it was highly irreverent. It made me laugh out loud. The message that came with the email was, “I hope this doesn’t offend you. ”

The first three lines didn’ t hold out much promise, referring as they did to being ‘in my prime/looking mighty fine/mature and sexy, healthy and fit…’ I hate things that promise to empower me as they suggest I’m currently on half cylinders so I was tempted to stop listening but just in time, it picked up. I won’t quote the rest but be assured, there was no perimenopausal symptom left unmentioned. Grateful for the laughter, I forwarded it to suitable candidates ( they qualified by virtue of sense of humour rather than age or medical condition – mostly).

The reactions were fascinating. They ranged from ‘Loved it..’ through ‘you’re off/on my Christmas list’ to ‘Was this intended for my mother?’ One suggested I blog it for the entertainment of all; another that it would offend younger women. I don’t enjoy all the symptoms on offer yet but I wondered about that.

I have watched Grumpy Old Women on tv and am torn between laughter and nodding – usually simultaneously – while my husband and teenage sons sigh loudly and ask pointed questions about when the next Top Gear is on. When questioned, they tell me that women like that aren’t funny, they admit things about themselves that should be kept secret.

Why?

Why is it an admission? That has negative connotations. I think it’s an observation and acute observations are always worthy of note. In an article in TIME magazine in February 2006, there was a photo of me with the title Women of a certain age…, in Writers’ Forum I was referred to as a Wily Old Bird. I’m 47, for goodness sake: it’s amusing to be considered a bird, interesting to be considered wily; and subjective to be considered old. In thirty years time, I hope to qualify for all three; in forty years, I want a badge; if I make it to fifty years time, nothing less than a medal.

I came to Britain 27 years ago to take up a temporary teaching post. The day I went home six months later my best friend died of leukaemia, just as the plane landed and I realised that despite the fact that I had spent that six months counting the hours before I went home, there was no going back now. I still miss Ireland but with a husband and three sons, and despite having to sit through regular repeats of Top Gear, this is home now. I will grow old here.

Perimenopause, menopause, geriatric ambitions and all – aging is a fine option.

I’m looking forward to it.

More wobs…

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 15:51:25 +0000

The article was written by Helene Parry, a very friendly interviewer who came one hot summer’s day and asked lots of questions. She’d done her research and was familiar with both my work and my publishers – Transita. I thought she was nice; she thought I was a wily old bird.

Wily old birds….

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 15:48:44 +0000

When Sandra held up the Writers Forum Magazine and said, ‘Have you seen this?’ I nodded. I’ve seen it lots of times and think it’s a good read. She looked surprised as if my reaction was odd. Then I saw why.

On the front cover a photo of yours truly smiled out at me and above it, the caption Wily old birds hit out at chick-lit. Oh dear – is that what I am now – a wob?

Blasts from the past…hello Cyril

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 08:54:31 +0000

So it works.

For weeks I’ve been drip feeding the blog, wondering if anyone really looks at blogs that crop up in the ether and suddenly someone from the past appears. Wonderful! Cyril is a friend from Aberdeen days who worked in the same school as I did – I was the Irish supply teacher; he was the French assistant. Good to have you back.

So, a weekend in Ireland and I’m out of kilter. If home is where the heart is then mine is split. 26 years in the Uk hasn’t dulled my passion for Ireland or my feeling that it’s home but 26 years in the Uk has brought a husband, three sons and a cirle of good friends…and that’s home too.

Guess I’m lucky.

Ireland….and the next story

Tue, 09 Jan 2007 09:43:28 +0000

I travel to Ireland Wed.to meet the pr lady who will help me launch Soft Voices Whispering in Ireland. Reviews so far from this side of the water are positive so my hopes are high for a response in the counrty where these stories are set. Then there’ll be a frenetic three months before I have to settle down and begin to think of what happens after Polishing off the Cherries is finished.

Actually, I know already.

Just before christmas I visited a woman I met and liked at her workplace. She restores church furniture in a huge warehouse/barn in Molesley. There’s something very disturbing about wandering around amidst altars, tabernacles and pulpits. What I really wanted was a confessional – a must for a writer who cannot escape her spiritual awareness however hard she tries. Some of the stuff was beautiful, some distressed and forlorn. I fell in love everytime I turned my head but it was the small dusty item shoved under a stool that caught my eye. The owner was amused at my choice but I recognised it straight away.

About ten years ago I watched an old lady comb the candle tray in a church with her fingers. I wasn’t a writer them but I knew straightaway that one day this would mean something. When I bent down in that warehouse in Molesley to pick up my find, I knew what it was.

I’ll tell you once I get the first three chapters written.

The Jigsaw Maker…making waves

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 10:15:06 +0000

This morning I received a letter informing me that the unabridged audio rights worldwide for The Jigsaw Maker have been sold to Oakhill Publishing ltd- available April-June. What a pleasant way to start the weekend.

I can’t imagine what it will be like to listen to my words, my characters from someone else’s mouth. It’s probably like hearing yourself on tape for the first time.

I always reckoned I knew my own voice – deep, light Irish acccent, calm – but somehow the tape distorted it. There was another voice, higher, the accent more pronounced, disturbingly familiar while being unrecognisable. I listened a few moments before asking who the other woman was and wondered why I hadn’t spoken yet. Even then the penny didn’t drop.

I know Lizzie in The Jigsaw Maker; I know how she looks, how she moves; I know what she sounds like.

Or I think I do.

Thank you spam…

Tue, 02 Jan 2007 12:38:04 +0000

It was a matter of moral courage and fortiude that I did not turn on the computer over the Christmas break but devoted myself instead to family matters. It was a good idea at the time and in years to came may well prove beneficial. For the moment all it means is that the boys are fed, the cards are displayed (hey loookit everyone, I have friends ) and the underwear is out of the drier. I was so smug.

Than I turned on the computer and realised that I also have have insider knowledge on the price of shares and leads on where to buy my viagra.

WHO IS SENDING THIS SPAM????

Someone in the ether is out to inform me….

Happy ’007