'Fate' accompli?

When my second daughter was sixteen, a gypsy told her she was going to marry a Yorkshireman. I laughed. Not because I had anything against Yorkshire, (or its men) but  she was still so young and, anyway, who could  predict such a thing?  What's more she would work in a big factory surrounded by lots of people - including her future husband.

That was more than twenty years ago, yet the gypsy's words were as clear as ever as her father and I embarked on our latest trip to York. This beautiful city is famous the world over but I wonder how many of its people appreciate how lucky they are to live there?  Or believe that my gypsy friend really knew what she was talking about? (Daughter Two,  a happily married mum,  is now a microbiologist in the city.)

Yes, the predictions came true. Yet I've always believed in the 'Sliding Doors' theory that we can, if we really want to, influence our own destiny. Otherwise, why are we here?  As a writer it is easy to be self-critical, to compare yourself unfavourably to those who are more prolific than you, or more successful, especially in these days of non-stop social media. So I've tried to live by the mantra: if you think you can, you can, and if you think you can't, you probably can't.

One of the things I promised myself earlier this year was to concentrate on what I really want to do (write novels) and spend less time interacting with those I believe make my goal achievable (everyone else.) So, after writing this  blog almost every week for the last seven years, I have decided to cut it down to once a month.  I have taken a break from my facebook account, leaving only my author page active. I still log on to twitter, but just for a few minutes each day, so that I can keep in touch with what's gong on around me.

Do I feel happier?  No, I feel quite bereft. I've taken away the crutches, hobbled out of my comfort zone and started to rely on myself again. But isn't that how it all started?

From cub reporter to freelance journalist, from mother to grandmother to novelist, I've tried to make things happen.  That's my story, anyway.  You don't have to believe it. Novelists, so I've heard, are good at making things up.

York Minster - the world at its feet?

Fairy Tale of York - the 'White' way to a Happy Christmas!

The ceramic-tiled staircase with a warm welcome at the top.

The customers' coffee lounge

I had a magical start to my Christmas this week in the wonderful city of York where the friendliness of the shop staff showed what this time of the year is all about. Entering White Stuff's traditional store in Stonegate, my daughter and I noticed a steep staircase decorated with colourful ceramic tiles .
'Would you mind if I took a photo for my blog,' I asked the assistant.
She smiled and said 'Of course not - everyone does.'
I was soon shown up the stairs through the men's department to a Victorian lounge designed especially for shoppers to relax in and drink coffee 'on the house.'  I learnt the history of some of the antique furniture in the room from another friendly assistant and left feeling like one of the family.
We spent around 20 mins in the shop and called back later to buy my daughter a beautiful matching necklace and bracelet for Christmas.

Congratulations, White Stuff, for the best customer service I've every encountered.

The White Stuff store in York

Wishing a Happy  and peaceful Christmas to you all.

York Minster

Antique books in old Bridlington - the very best of medicine!

An antique bookshop in an original Victorian Chemist, a 1920s typewriter and a tearoom groaning with antiques. Sounds like the centre of Chester or Bath? No, this is Bridlington! 

Burlington Books in Old Bridlington
situated in an original Victorian chemist shop



In the 1960's an original Georgian street in the old quarter of Bridlington on the East Yorkshire coast was earmarked for demolition by the local authority. The new town was at the height of its popularity as a holiday resort whilst the old high street no longer seemed to have a purpose. But the council reckoned without the tenacityof the local businesses who were determined to keep the history of the town alive. Last week I discovered the restored High Street for myself and it is far, far better than any museum,  crammed with antique shops, arts and crafts shops and, most of all, with people who are proud of their heritage. Old photographs from the 1950s show this wonderful street with its Georgian bow windows and adverts for Capstans cigarettes and 'Players Please' with a solitary  Morris  Oxford wending its way past the shops. It could almost be the same place today

The bookshop's owners, Mr and Mrs Stephen Reynolds, gave me a particularly old fashioned  welcome, finding me books from World War Two, an era that has always fascinated me, and even producing a paperback about Guernsey as soon as I mentioned where I was born.

We spent most of  the week in York, taking in many historic sites including the Castle Museum with its 'real life' Victorian Street, and the splendid York Minster, both of which attract visitors from all over the world.  Yet it was old Bridlington, once almost lost forever, that really transported me to the past.

  

A 1920s Underwood typewriter at the
Georgian Rooms, Old Bridlington

 

Say 'No' to white lines

Blurred photo, anyone?

One of the characters in my latest novel  is a young, ambitious photographer working on a provincial newspaper in the 1960's. My research on the subject was going  well until I met an old college friend I'll call Angela, who spent several years  as a  freelance photographer. After offering lots of useful advice on the subject, she asked what I was like as a snapper ( a cool word in the sixties.) Cringing, I handed her my mobile phone ( 5.0 megapixel autofocus and no doubt  very uncool.) I have to say her face was a picture. Below are some of Angela's  favourites from my' portfolio' which she's planning to use in her forthcoming book  'What to do when The Camera Lies.'

York Minster after three glasses of wine

My wardrobe taken without glasses

Mr Guernsey Writer driving by roadworks

And finally...My 'fairy granddaughter' flying away

Can't see what's wrong with them, myself...

Pennies from heaven...

A little piece of Guernsey history surfaced in the heart of York last weeknd when I found this silver threepenny piece for sale  in a city centre vintage shop.  The 1956  coin, with its unusual 12-sided scalloped edge, had been made into a necklace, presumably for visitors who liked to keep an eye on their money...
It features a Guernsey cow on one side and the three lions from the Royal Standard on the other - showing that  islanders are  still proud to be a part of Great Britain. Having done a bit of research I've discovered that these 'polygonal' coins were made of copper-nickel, 21mm in diameter and 1.5m thick - probably a different take on our own good old 'thrupenny bit.'

York Minster

While York sweltered in temperatures of 29 degrees, the visitors arrived in their hundreds from France, Germany, Japan and America - many keen to see the ongoing restoration of the magnificent York Minster.

Talking of France, I discovered that York is twinned with Dijon, in the Burgundy region  to the South-east of Paris,  which is famous, of course, for making mustard.  I bet it aint 'arf  hot  over there...