Two Go To Greece

Much earlier in the summer, Mr Litlove and our son decided they would like to have a boys’ bonding holiday together. They toyed with the idea of doing a patisserie course in France, and then our son said he really wanted to go somewhere they’d never been before. With me in the mix up until now, that left the rest of the world pretty much open. And so they decided they would go to Greece and travel round the classical civilisation sites.

greece 1

Once they’d booked their flights, Greece made headline news every day with its financial problems. Weeks went by when the banking system failed, and threats were made about the country’s ‘Grexit’ from the EU. Angela Merkel wasn’t happy, and facebook was full of pictures of Greek ministers signing off German debt after World War Two. A referendum took place on July 5th and I’m not even sure now whether it mattered. ‘It’ll all be fine come September,’ said Mr Litlove optimistically, and what’s really odd is that this summer has flown by, but June and July do seem a long, long time ago. I don’t doubt the financial crisis rumbles on, but my menfolk fly out on Wednesday and it’s been a while since I’ve seen an article on Yahoo about Greece (which shamefully passes as my news feed). I believe cash is once more flowing from the ATMs which was the only real worry for the tourist earlier in the year, when I was wondering if I’d have to sew euros into the hems of their t-shirts or something.

I’m still mildly concerned about seeing the pair of them fly off together. They went through a bad patch about fifteen years ago when I could never send them off on an outing together without one of them returning in tears. ‘Oh come on,’ Mr Litlove protested. ‘That was only Christmas trees.’ Indeed, it was one of our traditions for a while that Mr Litlove should call me from the windswept fields of the farm shop to the north of our village with the sound of our son’s wails buffeting around in the background. I seem to remember shoe shopping didn’t go much better, but if they can steer clear of buying shoes or Christmas trees in Greece, they can at least avoid the old triggers.


I have also warned them that when it’s just the two of them, one of them is going to have to listen. On a driving tour, I think there may be quite a few conversations along these lines:

Son: What are we doing here?

Father: This is where we agreed to go next.

Son: I don’t remember agreeing.

Though that makes me feel quite glad to be staying home. Nor will I have to find missing items for either of them. It’s been an interesting weekend in that respect, as Mr Litlove discovered on Saturday that he’d misplaced both his passport and his driving licence. This did not make him happy. The passport turned up quite quickly, but the driving licence is still in the Domestic Bermuda Triangle. He has applied for another, and has some sort of substitute form with all his licence details on it. I don’t suppose anyone else has been in this situation, have they? Of needing to hire a car when their licence has gone missing? Mind you, if they have to take public transport, it’s not such a disaster, as I have vivid memories of a holiday in Corsica with Mr Litlove many, many years ago, when he would drive along enthusiastically pointing out houses with swimming pools, five hundred feet below in the valley.


I have picked out their holiday reading, though, and am putting together their first aid kit, travel essentials I think they may have gone without otherwise. And I’m rather tempted to dig out a once-famous photo of the two of them in the bath when our son was about 6 months old, and suggest they recreate it – though in the sea, as I don’t think a bath is appropriate any more. And I’m not sure what kind of a bath they’d need to accommodate two 6’4” men. Nope, really don’t want to think about that!

They’re both looking forward to it hugely, and Mr Litlove can barely contain his excitement having spent the weekend on the internet researching places they can visit, and enormous meals they might eat.

And what will I be doing while they are away? Oh a little bit of this, and a little bit of that. I have friends to see and catch-up chats on the phone, and with a bit of luck, I might get to hear my friend and co-ed at Shiny, our lovely Simon, give a paper on Elizabeth von Armin at the weekend. Wouldn’t that be fab? And I might just try and project a maternal ring of protection in the general direction of Greece, you know, just in case.

The New Year Approaches…

And this is how we are:

Scenario 1: The day before yesterday, I went downstairs around lunchtime to find Mr Litlove sprawled over the sofa in front of the television. I put my hand on his head.

‘I think I’m feeling a little better,’ he said, weakly.

‘Cure’s working, then?’ I asked. ‘Keep applying television directly to the eyeballs.’

‘If the pressure’s strong enough, it seems to keep the wound closed,’ he replied (and ruined the effect somewhat by laughing uproariously at his own joke).


Scenario 2: Yesterday I settled in the sitting room in the early afternoon with a fire going and my ipod docking station ready to deliver The Goldfinch on audiobook to me. I heard the first few paragraphs, I think. Certainly there was something about a hotel room in Amsterdam. But the next thing I really knew, Mr Litlove had come into the room to bank up the fire and draw the curtains as it was dark.

‘So how are you getting on with it?’ asked Mr Litlove who has read The Goldfinch and is keen to know what I think. ‘What bit have you got up to?’

‘Umm,’ I said. ‘I may have to start over again.’


Yes, we are a little bit tired over here, at the dog end of a long, hard year. What a strange and turbulent year it has been! When I look back over it, I find it unsurprising that we have a slightly ragged, chewed air about us.

On the side of the angels there was Shiny New Books, which we began planning way back in early February. I can’t quite believe that we have put out three full editions, three inbetweenies and have another full galloping towards us at the end of January. What a team we have been! I couldn’t wish for smarter, harder-working co-editors than Annabel, Harriet and Simon, not to mention the wonderful bloggers who have written reviews and features for us. After a quick tot-up, I find I have written 52 reviews and features for the magazine myself. I hope next year we can continue to refine and shape Shiny into the perfect magazine for us and for our audience.

On the side of the furies, however, it was an emotionally demanding year. My son split with his girlfriend and suffered greatly, though from August onwards, he’s been exemplary in getting his life back on track. He’s still healing and figuring things out, and you may imagine how much I hope he gets a few breaks next year. Then Mr Litlove has had quite a few battles at work, which eventually resulted in the gains he wanted, but leave him working ever more closely with his crazy boss. It’s my job to help him keep sane within an atmosphere that regularly risks toppling into hysteria. I find that, at the end of a long recitation of his boss’ latest exploits, if I throw my arms wide, gaze to the heavens and yell ‘But he’s a NARCISSIST!’ this makes Mr Litlove laugh. I might have to come up with something new in 2015, though. And you may recall as well my friend with MS who lost her husband. I have to thank you all for your wise counsel when I was feeling guilty about not being able to rush around with casseroles and practical support. In fact, my friend was rather overwhelmed by help, which has of course now evaporated, and the short emails of support that I regularly send her she has liked receiving. I do feel I’ve been able to be useful in a way I can sustain.

When I began this year, it was supposed to be dedicated to writing the book I’m working on (everything I’ve described so far came on top of that). And despite it all, I did manage to hit my target for the year. I’ve completed half the book, and the half that required the most research. And I have just about kept this blog ticking over. WordPress informed me the other day that I’ve written just shy of 100 posts this year. Which is a lot less than I would normally write, but you all know why. In fact, when I had a quick calculate across the whole year, I think I’ve written about 300,000 words, when you add in the correspondence I keep with some virtual friends. So not too shabby.

And I’ve taken up tai chi, and become a fan of the Alexander Technique. And with the support of my family, I’ve begun tackling some of my long-seated phobias about travelling and socialising (particularly when they come together). I’ve made slow but steady progress, and I’ll keep at it next year.

So it’s been a tough and busy year, but I feel I’ve had a lot of support. Mr Litlove’s been a darling. My family has been fantastic. My co-editors, a delight. And I don’t know what I would do without all my virtual blogging friends. You’ve stuck by me through the spotty blogging months when my attention was elsewhere; you’ve bolstered my confidence and optimism and just plain put up with me when I’ve been oversharing about some personal disaster or other; you’ve left intelligent, funny, witty comments on bookish matters of all kinds. A lot of you have written for SNB, too! Thank you, dear friends. I wish you all the loveliest, most peaceful, productive and happy 2015.

And now I might just stagger back to the sofa, where I think I left that book….





Christmas Isn’t Just For Extroverts

Well the extrovert uberlords seem to have taken over the world this December. I can’t walk through town without being blasted by ‘Frostie the Snowman’, the shops are packed with crowds and hanging decorations and stocked to the gunnels, everywhere you look something sparkles or shines or emits noise. The pubs and restaurants are full to bursting of carousing parties. If I turn on the television it’s a visual riot with people screaming and laughing, and anything nominally slow or tasteful is in fact designed to rip my bleeding heart from my body and roast it over a spit. You can sob or you can laugh at Christmas it seems, nothing in between. For those of us who are over-stimulated quite easily, it’s exhausting just being alive at the moment.

peaceful winter scene 2

But I’m taking a polemical stand on this blog today and saying that the festive season isn’t meant to be so noisy. The original blueprint was ‘Peace on earth, goodwill to all men,’ right? And that included something for everyone: peace on earth for the introverts, goodwill to all men for the extroverts. Some sort of yin and yang balance was intended. So where has all the peacefulness gone? Where are the moments of quiet contemplation, the still and silent communion? You have to fight quite hard to get restfulness factored in, and barely five minutes later, it’s ruined by some idiot with a party popper.

lake at winter

So, introverts, we are going to have to put our backs into this. We’re going to have to be quiet like we’ve never been quiet before, if we’re to bring any balance back at this time of the year. We’re going to meet a lot of resistance from people determined to make us party, and we’re going to have to stand very firm. And still. Someone has to contribute to the sum total of peace on earth, and we’re the ones best qualified to do it.

And extroverts? Let us have a fighting chance. Allow your loved introvert to sit alone and quiet sometimes, give them the gift of leaving the gathering early, and know that we are relating to you in significant ways even when we are reading a book. In fact, especially when we are reading a book. This Christmas, do your bit towards equal rights for different pleasures!

monet winter

A Festive Update

holly SNBOur latest ‘inbetweenie’, the update we put out between issues of Shiny New Books is now live and lovely! Publishers brought out so many fantastic books in the early autumn that we’ve got over 30 new reviews, as well as a Christmas quiz and an amazing 7-book prize from Buried River Press in a lucky draw competition (though UK and Eire entrants only).

Time to find out what you want for Christmas, and what you can get all your friends and relatives, too.