"Behind Closed Doors..."

Caroline Smailes is pretty, she's bright and at thirty-something, she clearly has a big writing future. Very recently, she called in to chat with one of my writing groups. I'd never met her in person...merely chatted through emails and http://www.carolinesmailes.co.uk/ but it was a treat to meet her and I know my class agreed. We had a great morning.

Strangely enough, when Caroline arrived, we were looking at an extract from Jeannette Winterson's " Oranges are not the only fruit" (the main character telling of her mother's "daily household preoccupation" with The Heathen next door, :"Put some clothes on...Next Door's at it again..")

We then worked on List poems, each line starting " Next door...", then listing ( "creatively", of course!) stuff Next door got up to...( great results: funny, moving, lyrical...we got the lot!) so THIS was all very (accidentally) relevant....

Because:

Caroline's second book is an ebook novella. "Disraeli Avenue" tells of a street of similar houses, where no household is really the same, where folk hide secrets which ( I'm cliche-ing; but cliches are cliches because they're SO very accurate, e.g: "make your blood boil", "your toes curl")...and as Caroline says, the book gives you "a mosaic of working class life".

It's a crisp idea; characters who were lightly featured in Caroline's first book ("In search of Adam", published by The Friday Project)... are given voice and their stories more vividly told...

Caroline's book can be downloaded free from her website ( see address above) All that's asked is a donation for a hardworking Charity ( " One in Four" ) which offers support for folk experiencing sexual abuse and violence.

By joining in, you're helping a great cause AND you'll enjoy a writer of whom we'll hear more...

Thankyou Caroline for coming to see us!

But Now For Something Completely Different:

Yesterday, I spotted a lovely old fellow sitting by the chemist counter in our local supermarket; Mr P 's been a neighbour for years and he must be 90. He was awaiting a prescription and the reason was obvious; his eyes were piggy-small and red and they streamed with cold.....but on seeing me, Mr P grinned, then asked after me, my family...and on saying goodbye, he touched his cap, yep, he touched his cap ( a deerstalker , something my long-gone dad would've described as " nifty" or even possibly " natty") ...then as I backed away with my wire basker swinging madly, he raised said deerstalker in gentlemanly salute.

I was touched, deeply. No-one's touched their cap at me for years, let alone " doffed" it. Doffed?

Does anyone under 40 even know what "doffed" means??!

I think the "trying-to-look scary" Hoodies who hang out on scary bikes outside the supermarket should do some doffing...lift up their hoodies occassionally, smile broadly...and we'd all feel a lot better.

OK, I'm easily pleased, but Mr P ( at 90-something) made m'day!