I like Spacehoppers.
I light blue candles for luck when I write.
The beach outside my house.
The other half. Artist extraordinaire!
My very own gingerbread cottage.
Before I lived here other people did.
Watson Jones super dog.
Watson Jones flying dog.
I’ve always loved words. Ever since I was very young I’ve been reading books and writing stories.
I lived opposite a library and it was pretty much heaven to me to go there and read for hours on end.
My sister Jo is carrying a flag in aid of the release of young people from awful brown bobble hats.
I read anything and everything. I hid under blankets at night and read. I played hide and seek and when I was the seeker the hiders had to come to find me because I’d stumbled upon a copy of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. When I wasn’t reading I made other people read to me. My mother is reading me a lovely bedtime story here as she smokes a cigarette. This is what people did in the Seventies.
I’ve always been into magical stuff and wanted to grow up to be either The Wicked Witch of the West …
I tried pretty hard with my costumes and turnip lanterns…
but I ended up being this…
My niece Rosie is keeping the dream alive because she is BRILLIANT.
Me – In a Nutshell
Sixer of Pixies. Child of the 70s. Survived encephalitis, pizza thrown in face, a decade as an actor, school, endless years of Heavy Metal abuse from younger sister’s room.
Likes confetti, bluebells, memories of Gran and Grampa, family, cwtches, the way ladybirds shelter in beech nuts, collecting seaglass on misty days, comfy jeans, stories about interesting things.
Spent too much money on ill-fitting clothes, too much of the 80s planning marriage to John Taylor and/or George Michael, lovely times in Europe, one cold week in New York.
Lives in West Wales. Lives for the sea, love, repeats of ‘Murder She Wrote’, for as long as can.
Has dog called Watson Jones. Has husband called Guy. Both of whom are handsome devils.