This looks like a fabulous book and the cover is just delicious! I have a copy of the book so you can expect a review of that soon, but before that, the author has stopped by the blog today to share with you the times of her life...
Obviously, in my head, the Time of My Life (cue music)was supposed to be dirty dancing with Patrick Swayze sweating in a vest at a summer camp in the Catskills, before joining the peace corps and generally being beautiful whilst saving the world. Only that didn’t happen. And university (much touted by parents asdefinite “Time of Your Life”) didn’t quite measure up. I did Drama. At Hull (Rachel’s first choice). Only what she has yet to find out is that, if she gets in, in her first practical she will be asked to improv being a toaster, and that it will be mostly downhill from there. So we can scrub that one. Oh, and the day the menace (i.e. my daughter) was born? It was 39 degrees centigrade outside and in, the only clothes that fit me were an evening gown and a bikini, and I accidentally watched the C-section in the shiny lamp over the operating table. Like doing washing up in offal soup. Not a high point. Really not. So here, in no particular order, are the actual times of my life:
1.
6th form college. This was two years of unadulterated (in every sense) joy: boys, bands, a gay best friend (natch), Doc Martens, and a lot of hanging around at the Square in Harlow hoping Steve Lamacq would hear my telepathic begging messages and sign me as an NME hip younggunslinger. That didn’t happen. Not least because I had yet to write a single music review. But a girl can dream.
2.
The 2001 and 2005 General Elections. I got up every morning at 5am. I got home at 11pm if I was lucky. I lived on adrenalin and biscuits and blind faith and wrote everything from manifesto copy to a minister’s iPod playlist (you really think they have a clue what’s on there?). But best of all I got to brief the PM on Hollyoaks, and Billy Bragg phoned to ask my advice. NOT EVEN JOKING.
3.
Perfect View, BA1. For four years I lived in a time warp on a little road in Bath in the woods. Cats, dogs and children roamed in and out of the communal gardens and each other’s houses. And the menace made a best friend who provided me with endless mess, but also material for Jesus and Whitney. Though the time they tried to “mark their territory” cat-style in my office never made it into print, until now.
4.
Tomorrow. I know that borders on woo-woo, which I don’t do (along with aromatherapy, dogs and God), but really, there’s no point going through life thinking you’ve already had the time of it. Every morning I really do wake up wondering what amazing thing will happen, or what I’ll achieve. Mostly, I’m lucky to get to the end of it without a tantrum over hairclips or a trip to A&E, but, like I said, a girl can dream. And I do.
5.
Writing Rachel. Ugh. More woo-woo. But, really, this book is the story of my so-called life. My geeky but genius little brother James (who thankfully has yet to sue). My grandpa and his child bride. My friends (who know it’s them in print). My objects of affection (who don’t, because they were sadly unrequited in real life). And my last summer in Saffron Walden. Which really was one of the best and the worst times of my life. And saying goodbye has never been harder. For Rachel, or for me.
The book came out last week and the series looks really fun, thanks so much to Joanna for stopping by!
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