Road Trip: The Lake District

Perhaps it was the drizzly weather. Perhaps it was all the hype. Perhaps it was the fact that we’d previously visited Konigssee in Bavaria. Whatever the reason, The Lake District was a bit of a disappointment. Quite a big bit actually.

We drove up from Blackpool, over the hills to Windermere which, at first glance seemed quite promising. The lake, meandering around the feet of the tree-covered slopes, looked quite lovely despite the overcast skies. However, heading down to the waterfront it became rather disappointing. Bowness was swamped with coach parties and the sort of attractions designed to please them, the shore-line almost obscured by queues of people and sprawling car parks. The weather darkened with our mood, so we struck out north.

To be fair, Ambleside was picturesque, and there were occasional glimpses of beauty as we skirted the lakes, but when we reached Keswick it was impossible not to feel that the whole thing was a bit of a let-down. I’d seen so many pictures of this area, but as we came to each place and I saw it for real, I began to understand that it was skilful photography as much as the landscape that had impressed me.

As we trudged through the winding, souvenir-shop streets of Keswick, we agreed that the whole place felt like a bad copy of somewhere great – as though a businessman from the north-west had been to Austria and thought, “I could do something like that back home.”

The odd thing is, there’s already a place where mighty hills plunge down into long expanses of water, with dramatic scenery and rugged beauty, and it’s right here in the UK. Loch Lomond here we come.

Road Trip: Blackpool

When Cam first suggested adding Blackpool to our UK tour, I admit that I was sceptical. I’d always hoped to live my life without ever visiting the place but, several years ago, a series of unfortunate business dealings found me trapped in that singular seaside town with an army of enthusiastic Northern pyramid sellers.

Needless to say, that one trip was enough to put anyone off, even if they had previously harboured warm feelings toward Blackpool, which I hadn’t. So today, my expectations were not high.

And yet, it wasn’t bad.

I had prepared myself for a tacky, shabby seafront, populated by characters who’d escaped from Coronation Street, all garnished with chips and trams and endless packets of “original” Blackpool Rock. And, while it was all of these things, it was also strangely enjoyable. We walked down onto the almost deserted beach, basked in the sunshine, played catch, and generally had a laugh together. When the tide came in, it came in quickly – so quickly that it caught us out several times, soaking our feet before lunchtime.

We almost lost both cameras to the waves at one point (thank goodness I bought a waterproof rucksack!) but in the end only one bouncy ball was claimed by the waves.

When we left, we left in high spirits, and in the end that's high praise for a place I'd really not expected to enjoy. I'm still not a fan of seaside towns, but perhaps Blackpool isn't that bad after all.

Road Trip: Warrington

After the pleasures of Oxford, it was amazing to see what a difference a few miles can make. We stopped off for a pit stop in Warrington – “pit” being the operative word.

I’m used to high-value merchandise in supermarkets having security tags, and familiar with trolleys that are designed to lock up if taken too far from the store. However, we were both rather surprised to see that, in the huge Tesco in the centre of Warrington, even the hand-baskets carry anti-theft tags. Obviously, those baskets are aspirational items round here.

Not long after, we pulled over for pizza. The service was courteous and there was nothing wrong with the meal. However, it was hard not to notice the young couple on the table opposite us. The buxom young woman had asked for a pot of crayons – standard equipment for your average, family-friendly Pizza Hut. She wedged the pot firmly into her exposed cleavage and instructed her boyfriend to take crayons out, and put them back in, while she recorded everything on her camera phone.

This went on for quite some time, but I suppose you can’t hurry true art. In any event, I now feel certain that I’ve experienced the very best that Warrington has to offer. How can the Lake District possibly compete with this? Tomorrow will tell...

Road Trip: Oxford

A whole week off - just Cam and I on the road while Anna is busy running Church activities - and our epic UK tour begins in Oxford.

The weather could have been better, and it will take a bit of Photoshopping to make the most of my photos, but we had fun nonetheless. We visited the Eagle and Child pub, where Tolkien read parts of Lord Of The Rings to C.S.Lewis and the Inklings. A far cry from us writers who meet in the Bellemoor pub on Wednesday evenings, but the sentiments are similar I think.

Then as the rain caught us, we took cover in the wonderful covered arcades and found a world of specialist chocolate shops, coffee shops, bakeries and cake decorators - there was even a place called Pie Minister but we never found out what they sold. It was a great place to work up an appetite, so after we'd strolled around some of the city's more famous landmarks we made our way back through the streets to where TV chef Jamie Oliver has his famous Italian restaurant. Cam refers to Jamie as 'the guy who ruined school dinners' so we went into the Gourmet Burger Kitchen directly opposite and took lunch there.

Dessert was from a fab little place called Chocology where we sampled some excellent ice cream before returning to the car and hitting the road once more, with The Hobbit audiobook floating out of the stereo. How apt!

Wishful Drinking

Just finished reading Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher. I suppose it's not surprising that a 70's starlet who played Princess Leia should go on to lead a mixed-up life, but really - I had no idea!

It's a biography, so it covers the bizarre childhood that comes from having two celebrity parents (Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher) , the whole Star Wars thing, marriage to Paul Simon, and the heady combination of alcoholism, drug addiction, and bi-polar disorder. However, it races along like nothing else I've ever read, flitting back and forth across the years in an erratic stream-of-consciousness style.

And it's funny. Carrie Fisher may have had a troubled time, but she certainly knows how to tell uncomfortable truths in an entertaining way. I won't spoil it - I'll simply recommend it. Short, sharp and utterly compelling.

One down, two to go...

Completing the draft of my book's first section has brought mixed feelings this week. On the one hand, it's great to have passed another milestone on the project. I now have a third of the novel wrapped, and that's pleasing. Conversely, it requires only the most rudimentary grasp of fractions to see that this leaves two thirds still to write. And I now know exactly how much work that'll be: twice what I've already done.

But enough of maths. A more pressing issue is the fact that I have a firm idea for the third section, but remain undecided about the second one. This middle piece of the story is proving quite troublesome. I know what I want from it, but right now I can't nail down where it will be set. Hopefully I can find a suitable place that is covered by Google Street View - it'll save me a few research trips if I can.

On a lighter note, another life-imitates-art coincidence caught my imagination this weekend. I had travelled up to Bristol to visit the street where my detective will live, and drive the route of his daily commute. While in Portishead, I found the police station that features in the first section and went for a walk to get a feel of the area (and take some photos like the one above). My detective has been advised to get some exercise to help him deal with some emotional issues better, and I randomly had him go swimming. So it felt a little weird as I turned a corner near the police station and noticed the Parish Wharf Leisure Centre with its huge indoor pool right in front of me.

If I ever get published, that'll make another great "spooky" anecdote ;-)

Winchester Conference

It's surprising how intense a single weekend can be. This one was occupied by the Winchester Writers Conference, and what a weekend it was!

Things didn't start well. I had arranged a couple of one-to-one meetings, the first with a literary agent who I'd sent some material to in advance. It's impossible not to get excited when someone like that reads your work - will they like it? In this case, there were a number of negative points, and I found my hopes crumbling as I listended to criticism for the miserly 3 pages of crime novel I'd been permitted to send. But then, as the agent launched into an observation about the vicious way my killer dispatches his victims, my gloom abated somewhat. I asked her why she felt it was vicious... when the killer had not even appeared in the 3 pages she (allegedly) read!

That meeting was disappointing, but things improved. Later that day was my first workshop with established crime writer Lesley Horton. Her class was extremely useful, and she was a wonderful speaker.

Later on Friday night, a number of us gathered for the Midnight Read, an opportunity for anyone to read out anything to their fellow writers. Some wonderful characters stood and read (or even sang!) their latest work and, along with the entertaining eccentricities, there were some genuinely good stories told.

Saturday and Sunday were exciting, inspiring, and informative. After a captivating opening talk by Michael Morpurgo, we went off to our lectures for a day of literary learning. It was all useful, but two further sessions led by Lesley Horton were pure gold for anyone working on a crime novel.

It was great to spend time with other writers, and pleasing to see so many faces from the Taunton's Creative Writing course there. Martyn and Chris identified some excellent contacts for my children's picture book (who I then stalked and spoke to) and it was brilliant when we heard that Julia and Phil had both made the competition shortlists.

By the end of the conference, I'd learned a great deal, made some very useful contacts, and even been told how to poison someone. You don't get that every weekend!