Merry #Christmas #SilentSunday
Cooking and Sharing #SOCS
This post is written in response to Linda Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt. Check it out here Today’s theme is ‘cook’
Today’s Christmas Eve and I definitely won’t be cooking, although everyone will be eating the food I cooked.
By the way, everyone is my husband, my son and my mother, at least. You never know who else might be popping in… Lots of people I love are missing today because they have to be somewhere else due to personal or professional reasons, but I’ll be seeing them soon.
I’ll be getting up late-ish, going shopping for a couple of last minute presents and then I’m going to have lunch at the best restaurant in Reinosa, Spain, called Restuarante Fontebro.
After a short rest, I’ll be preparing Christmas dinner, which is the big family meal which takes place on 24th December very late in the evening.
I cooked it all two night ago, yes on Thursday 22nd, in the evening, because I’ve been travelling across Spain yesterday, Friday, 23rd, and as I wanted to go shopping and eat out today, 24th, I wouldn’t be able to cook either.
You’re probably dying to know what I cooked, aren’t you? It’s not terribly original but very delicious. Oven cooked, boned, stuffed, turkey in a delicious orange and brandy sauce. If you’d like more details, such as a recipe, ask me in the comments.
Cooking for the people we love is an expression of love and eating the food cooked with love is another act of love. Cooking and sharing meals is an intimate ceremony and I welcome any excuse to cook for my friends and family. The conversations we have while eating delicious food and drinking good wine are inspiring and priceless.
Anyway, I need to put it all in the oven right now and make sure everyone eats it all up.
I hope you have a wonderful evening either cooking or eating what someone else has cooked with all their love. Happy cooking, eating, and sharing food and conversation.
I know you’d love to see pictures of the food and other events, but I’ll be posting photos tomorrow on Silent Sunday.
Inspiration #Silentsunday
If this view of a beautiful sunset doesn’t inspire me, nothing will 💗
#WordlessWednesday View from the Plane across Europe
#WordlessWednesday September Evening Sky
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#SilentSunday Back to the Beach
Torre de la Sal, Manilva. Spain.
Happy Anniversary to Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall #SundayBlogShare
Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall went live on amazon on 28th of August 2015.
Brief Blurb:
More secrets and shocking revelations at Eyre Hall in this Victorian Gothic Romance. Mystery and suspense will unfold in a breathtaking family saga, which will transport the reader into the haunting Yorkshire countryside, to gruesome Victorian London, and across the Atlantic Ocean to Colonial Jamaica.
Reviews.
I have 19 reviews on Amazon US and 7 on Amazon UK.
Some of the things readers have said:
‘The various first person voices are all totally distinct so that I felt like I was catching up with old friends as I read. I can’t wait for the third book in the trilogy to be published and again, although ‘Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall’ is crafted with a hugely satisfying ending, there is potential for an incredible finale to the trilogy. Brilliant.’
‘You felt like you were in the story. Enjoyed very much, cannot wait to read second book. You really cannot put this Down.’
‘Over all this is definitely a must read in my opinion. If you adore classics like I do, I think you will enjoy this trilogy immensely.’
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Bestseller Lists
It’s been on the amazon bestseller lists for historical novel on several occasions.
I love this picture because Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall was close to A Dangerous Fortune by Ken Follett, for a few days. I was pleasantly surprised because A Dangerus Fortune is a wonderful book, which I’ve recently read (although it was first written in 1998, I hadn’t even heard of it).
It has some similarities to my trilogy: It’s also a Victorian family drama including betrayal, romance, unscrupulous villains, many cruel and surprising twists and turns, and a relatively happy ending, but more about that in another post.
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Sales
It’s sold an average of 2-3 kindle ebooks a day and over 30,000 pages have been read on KENP, which means between 90 and 100 people (may/probably) read the book (or a greater number could have started it and not finished it).
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None of this seems a lot in the big scheme of things, but bearing in mind there are over 4 million books on amazon which readers can choose to read, including bestsellers, well-known author names, big publishers, etc., overall I feel proud of my second book baby, although I feel she still has a long way to go 🙂
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Hopes for the Second anniversary.
I’ll be preparing the ebook Box Set with the three books shortly, and I hope people keep buying, reading, and reviewing it. That’s all.
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Some favourite scenes:
Romance:
Chapter VII. Upheaval at Eyre Hall.
Michael narrates.
“Mrs. Mason, I would request a private word with you, if you please?”
Did she recoil on hearing my voice? Was it possible that I could have such a negative effect on her? Did she hate me for leaving, or for returning?
“Have you finished playing, Lieutenant Kirkpatrick?” she answered, looking into the hearth.
“I have no intention of playing, and least of all with you, Mrs. Mason.”
She turned to me, and my heart surrendered as it always did. Hers were the eyes I had seen in every sea storm, and hers was the face I had observed in every sunrise.
“Congratulations Lieutenant, now that you are an officer in the navy, you can have your pick of the young girls who are searching for husbands. You have done well.”
I wanted to throw myself at her feet and tell her that I had come back because her image was so firmly lodged in my mind that her face was the last thing I saw before falling asleep and the first thing I thought of every morning when I woke. Hers were the only lips I ever wanted to kiss, and being so near her and watching her indifference was killing me.
“I am not looking for a young wife,” I whispered.
“What are you looking for? Why are you here? Is it to flaunt your victory?”
I wanted to tell her that the only thing that had kept me alive at sea was a little red button she had given me, and the faint hope of seeing her again, one day. As I stood beside her, I knew I had come back because my life meant nothing to me without her.
I moved closer. “Please, could we continue this conversation somewhere more private?”
The flames drew shadows on her frosty face. “On what matter must you speak to me that is so private?”
“Regarding my sister’s health.”
“Susan seems perfectly healthy to me,” she said, still watching the flames.
“It is a very urgent. I would not trouble you if it were not so important.”
Her bright stormy eyes turned to mine, and for a second I looked into the depths of the ocean and saw a flicker of hope. If I could make her look into my eyes again and see how much my love had grown, I was sure she would allow me back into her heart.
“I beg you to allow me to discuss the matter with you privately.”
Her expression softened for a second. “Wait in the library,” she said quietly and turned back to the glowing fire.
Gothic Elements:
The exhumation of Jane’s dead baby in the family vault. Jane narrates.
“We cannot proceed with an exhumation without the bishop’s permission,” he said, and I realised he had probably been loyal to Edward. I wondered if he had known about Helen all along.
“This is our vault, and our church. The church is on our grounds. We pay for its upkeep and your salary and comfortable lodgings, very generously. We do not require an exhumation, Mr. Woods. We would like to visit our vault and open one of our tombs, and we will do so with your permission or without it. I suggest you do not oppose my wishes or you will regret it, so please be so kind as to bring the keys and open our vault. Now.”
He was indeed his father’s son. I had no doubt that he would control the estate with an iron fist when the time came. I had thought he was more understanding and thoughtful, but I realised he was a Rochester through and through. I wondered sadly what, if anything, he had inherited from my side of the family.
Mr. Woods turned the ornate key in the giant lock and pushed the gate open revealing a steep stone staircase. John walked down first, closely followed by Adele and Dr. Carter. My son turned after taking the first steps. “Mother, please follow us. If you were brave enough to accuse my father of a crime, you should be brave enough to walk past his tomb.”
Hot tears burned my cheeks. Annette gasped and threw her arms around me. “No,” she cried, and then I heard Dr. Carter’s calm voice, “I see no need for all of us to go down this narrow passage, Mr. Rochester.”
“I insist. My mother must see the baby’s coffin for herself.”
“We will have to bring it up for inspection in any case. There is not enough light down there,” added the good doctor.
“I must protest,” said Mr. Woods. “The coffin must not be removed from the vault under any…”
“Mr. Woods, the coffin will be brought up, and if you do not desire to witness the event, I suggest you leave the church.” John turned to me. “Mother?”
“Let us go down, Annette,” I whispered and she nodded.
The crypt was long and narrow. There were two tiers of niches on either side of the constricted passage. Ornate and well–preserved wooden caskets rested inside the first niches. A quick glance revealed room for twelve corpses. Two niches were empty. I thought of Edward’s relatives, his grandparents, his parents, his brother, himself and Richard, and the baby’s coffin accounted for eight, plus two empty niches, which meant two corpses were unaccounted. Edward had never spoken to me of any other relatives.
John insisted on reading the names on the metal crests on the side panels. Finally, the two unaccounted bodies were identified as Mr. Harvey Fairfax, Edward’s mother’s brother and previous vicar at this church, and his wife Mrs. Alice Fairfax, who had been the housekeeper when I arrived at Thornfield Hall.
John stopped before a small casket, which looked out of place inside a large niche positioned on the lower level. It rested at the end wall of the vault, below Edward’s, and read: ‘Infant Eyre Rochester. May 1855’.
#Silentsunday Last weekend at the beach
Yesterday evening.
This morning.
Right now! Watching my son and grandson making a sandcastle
Days of Yore #SoCS
This post is written in response to Linda Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS) prompt
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “your, you’re or yore” Use it in your post as a noun or a verb… or a name! Enjoy!
Days of Yore
We all have our own days of yore. They start when we’re still children.
As soon as we’re old enough to have memories we can recall the days of yore.
Even so, the word yore has a distant sound to it, as if it refers to things which happened long before our own memories began.
The days of yore refer to the memories of others who have died generations before us. So why do they belong to us, too?
Perhaps their recollections are still alive in our collective unconscious. Don’t we all remember and re-imagine the same things?
Isn’t storytelling and all forms of literature a way of recalling and passing on events of the days of yore?
The big bad wolf, the fierce dragon, the handsome prince, the wicked stepmother, the Trojan Horse, the pairs of animals in Noah’s Arc, King Arthur’s Round Table, etc. Someone must have seen and recalled them of yore and passed on the memory, because, don’t we remember them as if we’d seen them ourselves?
The problem is, it’s like Chinese whispers, as the stories are passed down over generations they gradually change; they transform into something else, something later generations can relate to…
They say the legend of the mad woman confined to an attic was told to Charlotte Bronte on a visit to a local country house in her youth. Years later she recreated the legend in Bertha Mason, who became the catalyst in Jane Eyre and most famous secondary character in literary history.
I also shared Miss Bronte’s memories of the days of yore and remembered the story of the screams on the third floor and imagined that a baby was crying in that windowless attic, a baby who returned as a young woman to claim her birthright by her father’s deathbed: Annette Mason in The Eyre Hall Trilogy.
It happened of yore, but I remember it so well, don’t you?
#FridayBookShare ‘While my eyes were closed’ by Linda Green @LindaGreenisms
I’m joining in Shelley’ Wilsons’s Friday Book Share with some suggestions for entertaining books to read for the weekend.
Check out the hashtag #FridayBlogShare on Twitter.
You’ll get great ideas for weekend reading!
This week’s book is a family drama dealing with the disappearance of a child in a park in Yorkshire.
First line of the book.
Your body realises you have lost your child before your brain does.
Recruit fans by adding the book blurb.
THE #1 EBOOK BESTSELLER. ‘A beautifully crafted novel of knife-edge suspense’ Amanda Prowse. A nail-biting psychological drama for fans of Room, Behind Closed Doors and Between You and Me.
One, two, three . . . Lisa Dale shuts her eyes and counts to one hundred during a game of hide-and-seek. When she opens them, her four-year-old daughter Ella is gone. Disappeared without a trace. The police, the media and Lisa’s family all think they know who snatched Ella. But what if the person who took her isn’t a stranger? What if they are convinced they are doing the right thing? And what if Lisa’s little girl is in danger of disappearing forever?
Introduce the main character using only three words.
Lisa is a busy and happy, young mother.
Muriel is a solitary, middle-aged woman suffering berevement.
Delightful design (add the cover image of the book).
Audience appeal (who would enjoy reading this book?)
You’ll enjoy this novel if you like to read contemporary, British family drama and don’t mind a sad (although not too distressing) read, which has a poignant but relatively satisfactory ending.
Your favourite line/scene.
The following lines capture the atmosphere of the novel.
I go to Ella’s room first. It has become a ritual, checking on her like this while the rest of the house is sleeping. I don’t know whether there is a deluded part of me which actually expects to find her in there one morning or whether it is simply that it makes me feel close to her, but I can no longer imagine starting the day without doing this. I lie on her bed as usual, stroke her pillow, see her in my head smiling back at me. And then, as usual, reality kicks me in the teeth and all I hear is the silence of the room, all I see is the empty bed and all I smell is my own grief.
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And it’s a bargain at 0.99!
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Want to join in sharing a book you enjoyed?
Anyone can have a go – all you need to do is answer the following questions based on a book you are currently reading/finished reading this week and use the hashtag #FridayBookShare. Grab the banner on Shelley’s blog.
First line of the book.
Recruit fans by adding the book blurb.
Introduce the main character using only three words.
Delightful design (add the cover image of the book).
Audience appeal (who would enjoy reading this book?)
Your favourite line/scene.
Rereading Jane Eyre 