pink cup cakes

Ty Ni (our house)

I've changed my shopping day.

Prior to the lovely JB coming along, me and Little Fella trudged the floors of a certain supermarket every Wednesday, taking our time, Little Fella with carrot stick Organix crisps and me pushing around a 2 stone toddler.  Anyway, times have changed, and the idea of pushing 2 kids around in a trolley, one screaming, the other shouting "I want, I want!" is not very appealing.

So, Thursday it is.

So, me and JB head to that supermarket, no list, I'm free wheeling today, which is actually lethal, but anyway, I stumble across these really cute cakes totally aimed at suckers like me. Fantastic Roald Dahl illustrations and the most stunning cutie pie cakes inside, honest, I couldn't decide which ones to buy.  Little Fella has a thing for Choccy cake at the moment, so that went in the trolley, and a little treat me for, a giant spongy bun -totally cool.

Anyway, we arrived back having spent a little more money than intended, and since JB was sleeping, I put the shopping away and started tidying up the house a little.

I love this house, honest, I do.  We'll have been living here for 4 years on October and I love it even more now, I just wish it was somewhere else. Anyway, enough of that, that's another blog entry for another time, I really do take Pride in my home, after all, it's our biggest asset and we spend most of our free time here, so, I've been taking a look around, and picking out my favourite things.

I have to say, apart from our dining room, most of the house is a homage to St Ives, or the seaside in general.  When we first saw this house, I knew exactly how I wanted it, and over time, it's happening, I have my very own seaside "cottage".

Over the years, I've collected a hell of alot of driftwood art from St Ives and surrounding areas, and since I have so much, it's popping up all over the house.

OK, so nothing beats a real fire, and I have to say I really miss the ones we had when we lived in Cheshire, but our pebble gas fire, which of course we use sparingly, is lovely when it comes to those cosy winter nights.

It's probably my favourite room in the house after the Study.

Then there's the dining room.  It used to be our Family Room before I created the Playroom, but now I like it even more, with it's French farmhouse feel.

It also makes better sense to have the dining room where it is, because through French doors is the kitchen, probably the Hub of our home (after the Playroom of course), and we are just about the change the colour scheme, I'm thinking a calm sage green.

As mentioned previously, I've recently painted Little Fellas room. JB's lovely room didn't need much doing to it apart from cosmetics, and I have to say, I absolutely love the colour and my very fav thing is the cute but cool chair in the corner, and it's dead comfy too, which helps at 3am.

Our bathroom hasn't escaped the seaside either, with it's original driftwood pieces and calming canvases picked up over the years we've visited St Ives.

Last year in Brixham, I picked up a load of old unused scallop shells and now use them as tea light holders, or possibly ashtrays if that's your thing.

The driftwood cabinet in the bathroom was made by the same couple who made the mirror in the lounge. Sadly, their studio Windswept and Interesting in St Ives no longer exists, but they still do some stuff online.

Little Fella's cool Britannia cushion was actually from a High Street shop, but reminded me of No 11 The Quay in Ilfracombe, the restaurant co-owned by Damien Hirst.

And of course, a house wouldn't be a home without what are undoubtedly the most important rooms in the house, yes, the Playroom...

...and this rather fetching cat house as modelled by the lovely Atticus Finch.  Macbeth currently unavailable due to constantly smothering everything in sight.

And of course this extract wouldn't be complete without you know what - my workspace of course, and since I love this room so much, I'm dedicating it. it's own space on the front of the blog (see left).

Right people, have to dash, got loads to do, it's already 15:17 and I'm on a tight schedule today.

Love ya and leave ya

Karen xxxxxx

Alot can happen in a year...

I'm having a Tuesday morning ponder with a brew and a croissant.

After a hectic weekend with the kids, cats and chickens, today Big Fellas at work, Little Fellas with his nanny, and JB is sleeping in his buggy.  At last; peace, but for how long is anyone's guess.

Anyway, back to my ponder.  After thinking about this blogging game, I realised it's exactly a year since I've been telling all you lovely folk out there about my life, in particular my book, and that's when I started remembering what I'd been up to during my first year as a "blogger".

Well, I learnt the importance of detailed research when editing a book, and how tiring and time consuming it can be, but also how inspiring and exciting.  How reading up about one thing, lead to a passion about another, my "thing" for Paris/France being one of them,  as well as my existing love for London and City life, and fine food and booze but most important, books. 

I think I've read more books in the last 12 months than I imagined possible. I'm literally finishing one and starting another; sometimes I have a few on the go at once, and they're not just my usual safe bets either, I'm taking risks and it's completely liberating (I'm thinking Georges Bataille).

Anyway, getting back to my year.  About this time last year I had almost finished my manuscript and getting it reading to go off to the printers.  I was in negotiations with The Black Apple with regards to the front sleeve artwork, and Big Fella was working with Design One to actually design the cover.

Since then, I've dedicated most of my working days to it, along with steadily picking up new readers of the blog, which I'm really pleased about.  It's a strange thing blogging, putting yourself out there as such, but kinda cool too, life is lovely, and sometimes you want to tell people about it.

OK, so it was about this time last year also that me and Big Fella had our weekend in York, and I started feeling slightly unwell.  A few weeks later I happily (and nervously) discovered JB was on the way hooray!!

We had a trip to my lovely St Ives, where I found out I could go on holiday and forgo alcohol and still have a great time. I also discovered the fab surf label "Hager Vor" (rough sea in Cornish), and realised I had to make a five year plan to move to this amazing place for my kids sake if not mine and Big Fellas.

My very best friend The Mul passed away and 2 months later "the kittens" arrived.

Along came Christmas and I started getting bigger, but it didn't stop me making divine chocolate cupcakes with a little sparkle, the Karen Roderick way.

I blinked, and 2008 was here, and birth was looming, so more than a little freaked out, we took ourselves off for a short break to the Peak District, a place I'd never been before, but loved, and would definitely go back even if it was freezing!

We had the arrival of the "Playroom", which I wasn't sure about at the time, but is now a total God send.

And finally March brought the release, of A Love That Makes Life Drunk, my first published novel, of which I am very proud. Apart from managing to produce 2 lovely boys, this is the greatest achievement of my life so far.

Then a very beautiful thing happened in April, in the perfectly formed shape of JB (also known as Jib Jabs and Jabbers), and life hasn't been the same since.

During all these months I've continued to work on my next novel (working title "Hope and Jump" after a Bluetones track), discovered fresh and fantastic new bands (thinking One Night Only) and gradually losing all that damned baby weight.  I begrudgingly got myself on Facebook and found I quite liked it, and we've been to Ilfracombe and Woolacombe and continue to get excited about 2 glorious weeks in St Ives in September...

AND...I've painted Little Fellas room, and wonder how long it will stay half decent...

found some amazing Jean Michel Basquiat inspired wall stickers by Brume.

... fallen in love with Petite Anglaise and Catherine Sanderson, refuelling my love for Paris.

...had goose pimples watching The Verve at Glastonbury on BBC 3 and look forward to their album in August; and in the post today I received my copy of One Night Only "You and Me" and a signed photograph of the band (and it's real!!!) - coolio.

OK, so not every thing about the last 12 months has been great, but you know what, after my Tuesday morning ponder, I kinda feel alot happier.

Right, time just ran out, Jib Jabs is awake.

Big hugs

K xxxxxxx

Surf's Up

We've just come back from our holidays.

OK, so we stayed in the UK as we usually do, we're not yet after the Sun, (kids with fair skin tends to put pay to this at the moment!) so we consciously chose to take a risk and travel to the seaside, the good old British way.

As you may know, St Ives is Our Place, but we also try and explore a few other places too, and after our excursion to Brixham last year, we decided on Devon again, this time, the North and Ilfracombe.

OK, so many of you who have been to this part of Devon might be cringing in horror, and I'd be fibbing if I denied I wasn't just the littlest bit disappointed with the run down Promenade and shops.  So, knowing we wanted to take Little Fella to the beach, we had a day in Woolacombe and knew immediately we had chosen the wrong Combe to stay.

Anyway, I refuse to be negative about our hols, because it was lovely to be away from everything (well almost when you've got a terror toddler and 3 month old baby), and Ilfracombe wasn't all that bad the more familiar it became to us, plus, the sun came out and all looked a hell of a lot better.

I absolutely loved the Theatre (see above), it looks like 2 giant chimney's, very cool, and the Promenade itself was gorgeous as long as you looked out to the sea and cliffs and not the shops opposite.  There were some stunning sea walks and the odd cool shop dotted around.  The ice cream was tasty, the chips weren't, and I was very annoyed to find dog poo laws seem to have by passed Ilfracombe because the Harbour beach and streets were littered with the stuff, and it's a right b*****d to get off buggy wheels - shame on you owners, you give dogs a bad name.

One saving grace for Ilfracombe as far as we were concerned was the choice of pleasant eateries.  A family of vegetarians is a challenge for the chicest of Cities, but fair play, they had it sorted.

There was No 6 St James on the Promenade, where I indulged in goats cheese and pesto linguine, and Big Fella, pear and Stilton salad, and the Italy imported Prosecco was well worth the bill.  The cheese board was to totally die for, all local cheeses served with home made crackers - divine.

Later in the week, we tried a French inspired cafe (yes, I am still living the French dream!!), called Cafe Jardin. It was such a fantastic menu, we ended up dining there twice, and even Little Fella couldn't get enough of the cheese and hummus platter, declaring carrot sticks and brown sauce his dish of the hols, much to my absolute horror (I officially hate brown sauce).

We also stumbled upon Damien Hirst's cool vibe cafe/restaurant on the Quay, simply called No.11 The Quay. With it's traditional Hirst artwork (lots of dead butterflies and fish, which incidentally did make me feel a little uncomfortable), donning the walls and bespoke Union Jack cushions, and what I'm guessing are copies (?) of his 35ft bronze sculpture of a pregnant woman kinda spliced to show the developing feotus inside -eery, but what else would you expect, it was a really pleasant find.

  Anyway, it wasn't quite enough to put me off indulging in a glass of Champagne, even if I was wind and rain swept and looked like I really shouldn't be there, but it was surprisingly unpretentious and really saved the day on quite a few occasions.

I must also mention a cool little surf shop called Genesis owned by 2 lovely folk, because they stock all my fav kinda surf clothes. Thank you.

So, we did Ilfracombe to death, honest, we did, but Woolacombe really did it for us, with it's cool laid back vibe, retro VW campers, sweeping sands, surf shops, coffee bars and art shops.  Considering they were barely a 10 minute drive apart, you couldn't find two places so different.  Little fella got his beach, and JB got to soak up the vibe and we all had a pretty cool time.

I can't say it was a relaxing holiday as such, Little Fellas tantrums put pay to that, from chicken pox has emerged a 60 year old 2 and a bit year old - and at one time, he and JB were in competition about who could cry the loudest and for the longest.  I absolutely needed that glass of wine when they'd gone to bed.

Anyway, with the dulcit tones of Glastonbury as our soundtrack and Big Brother 9, the best so far, it's fair to say we had a grand time, and isn't it strange you don't actually realise how good it was until you come back home, to whatever awaits you in the ordinary world.

Be good

K xxxxxxxx

Delta of Venus

Take a look at this photograph.

Now, depending how you feel when you looked at the picture, will almost certainly determine what camp you're in when it comes to sex scenes in a book.

I've read so many books in my 34 years, most of them by female authors, and yet there remain so few who choose to write a passionate love scene, despite the story being heavily laced in innuendo, well, do you know what, sometimes it leaves me damned disappointed and somehow cheated. 

Anyway, I stumbled upon a group via Facebook yesterday and punched the air with joy.  Thank goodness! I thought, that I am not the only person, especially female, who enjoys not only writing detailed and somewhat passionate sex scenes, but also reading them.  This particular group entitled "Erotica Fans", gave way to a website (www.sarawinters.blogspot.com) that fuelled my desire (for writing!) even more.  The author seemed to sum up all my anxieties and frustrations about the romance erotica genre in a post she wrote last year called "Erotica vs. Pornography: Is there a Difference?"

The reason I found this so fascinating is her perception as a writer of erotica (and I'm not talking Black Lace here), she finds people disregard her and consequently don't perceive her as a "real" writer, well I know just know what she means, and moreso how she feels when she expresses her frustration at this, because I have, until the publication of my book, hidden the content of my work, sometimes, even been embarrassed, but now it's out there, do I can't duck and dive anymore - it's in black and white.

In the blog, she details the difference between Erotica and Pornography is such an astute and mature manner, I kinda hoped someone from the Romantic Novelist Association was reading (!). Get it into your head...writing a love scene, however passionate is NOT a disgrace, it does NOT make me a porn writer and it most certainly does NOT make me any less of a writer than someone who chooses not to write it.  What use is a love scene if it stays in the authors head?

I guess I vented my anger about this snobbery a little in A Love That Makes Life Drunk. Lily is a struggling writer of erotic romance, but is also the writer of a sexually explicit Journal.  Both she and Jefferson are aware what she is up against when it comes to being published, even though Jefferson (himself a published author) considers her "innovative" and "leading the way".

Lily has become so used to her work being seen as an embarrassment, she's even coy when she talks to Jefferson about it, and he is not a man afraid of sex,

'What sort of books do you write...' I leaned casually against my desk...

'Dirty stuff.' Luke grinned; I turned back to Lily, she didn't look impressed.

'It's not like that,' her frown faded as she turned back to me, 'I call it contemporary women's fiction, with a lot of, well, you know...'

'Sex?' I stepped in to help since she obviously had a problem with the word.

See, since I've become a little addicted to Facebook, I've joined a fair few of these kinds of groups, so I absolutely know there is a strong market for Erotic Romance, and it's growing, and yet still, we are bombarded with the same subjective agendas of mainsteam publishers.

The other thing I find quite interesting, is how I'm being perceived as a woman writing erotica. I kinda wonder if we've conditioned ourselves to accept men are sex mad (Ha!) and so it's OK for them to dabble, but a woman, well, that very different.  Sometimes I feel I should just write a slushy romance and be done with it, but aren't there enough out there already! Please, stop bloody churning them out, half of them are crap ( I mean this in the nicest way.) and I'm not saying mine is a masterpiece, but at least it's original. I remain amazed at how long the blueprint for Bridget Jones can last.

Sorry, am I getting personal? Right, lets get back on track.   Not everyone can write a detailed sex scene; not everyone is cut out for it. A clumsy sex scene is as bad and cringe worthy as not having one at all when it's needed. Not every book is justified, and I totally appreciate this, but I DO choose to write about sex between the lines of what I consider a romance, so for that I'm left out in the cold, having to find alternative ways to get my work out there -just like Sara Winters and just like the perosnwho e-mailed me this morning asking how the hell I managed to get published.

'I love how we delve into literature and analyse our beloved writers,' Jefferson writes about his relationship with Lily, 'and how easily I forget Lily is just 25 because she's so rousing when she converses.'

I may "dare" to write about sex, but I am also an intelligent worthwhile human being, so why as a Society haven't we moved on from Henry Miller and Anais Nin self publsihing in Paris to print Henry's work because no one would touch it because of it's explicit content?  I guess, until publishers become less afraid of Erotica, and realise it's potential as intelligent writing and that there is a lucrative market, writers like myself will be forced to take the initiative (which will risk us being isolated and frowned upon for self publishing).  Ironically I don't even fit the criteria for publishers of Erotic Fiction either! I don't write about whips and chains, but I'm not offended by them either, I simply have no desire to write about it.

The other thing I find interesting, is going into a bookshop and searching for Nin and Miller. More so Miller, because most of his work is of the explicit nature; but you won't find them on the top shelf, or hidden in their own seedy corner, no, because they are stand alone pieces of work, critically acclaimed whether you love or hate him.  So, back to Jefferson to clear a few things up,

'In her journal, Lily brilliantly describes the complexity of her feelings and the conflict going on in her mind, of falling in love with me whilst being with my brother, [Jefferson tells his agent Henry over dinner] it portrays her as a strong and sensual woman, it's something to be proud of, not ashamed of, this is something only a woman could write, we should celebrate it.'

And so I took advice from my own leading man. I wasn't going to be afraid of what my brain produced, I've been doing it for too long now, it is my style, even though I have attempted to change it, so celebrate indeed, and even though sometimes I wonder whether I should have published a slightly less explicit novel for my debut, I remain very proud of what I've achieved and of my work; I guess, as Big Fella always tells me when I feel a bit deflated by it all, it's my legacy.

Anyway, I'm going to leave you with a couple of extracts from the book, where Lily and Jefferson are discussing her writing style, because I think it pretty much sums up where I'm coming from,

'...intense love stories need a certain amount of detail...sex scenes need to be lovingly brutal in order to make the characters passion believable, because isn't that what people do when they're in love; that insatiable and animalistic urge that comes when you're deeply into someone...' [Jefferson to Lily]

[Lily] '...when I think about some of the things I've written, the sex, I can't ever imagine getting published, let alone getting an agent.'

And finally...

'Everyone has sex Henry, well, almost everyone,' I grinned, 'it's just some of us choose to write about it as well; some of us are incredibly inspired by what we do away from prying eyes.' I knocked back my wine, 'we're steadily breaking through the taboo.'

I hope.

xxxxxxxxx

Francesca and Paolo

When I set out to write this blog, it was originally supposed to be a defence of my chosen genre - romance with passionate love scenes, but I've actually found myself wanting to talk about Paolo and Francesca.

For those of you lovely people who have or are reading my novel, you'll know this is the title of the first chapter, but it wasn't always. See, during those gruelling months of editing, I basically re-vamped the whole book, including chapter titles.  Chapter One of A Love That Makes Life Drunk, as with any novel, is the clincher, so I had to make it good, in essence I chose a short sharp approach (indeed Chapter One is only 2.5 pages long) but with maximum impact, so choosing a title to match this gave me a bit of a headache.

Right, so this was my thought process: it's the all important introduction to Jefferson Howie, his younger brother Luke and his beautiful girlfriend Lily Mills. It also hints at what's ahead of them. So, I wanted something apt, something to tease the reader, but mostly, it had to be beautiful and brilliant - so where the hell should I start?

I've been a huge fan of the Pre-Rahealites for many years now.  Their admiration of the beauty of a woman with red hair continues to fascinate me, just as it does Jefferson when he meets Lily,

'...because you don't know Lily yet, let me enlighten you; she's a Red.  A bone fida, alarmingly stunning redhead...'

So, taking to my book shelves, I scanned hungrily through Essential Pre-Raphealites for a picture to meet my requirements, and folks, not only did I find one, but the story behind it was almost made for my novel, and that is Paolo and Francesca da Rimini by Rossetti.

In brief, Francesca was Paolo's sister in law and both were married; they fell in love. Simple as; the most perfect start to my book.  OK, so Luke and Lily aren't married, and neither is Jefferson, but a lose comparison was all I was after, and I got it.

Later on in the book, in the throws of Jefferson and Lily's illicit passionate affair, he actually refers to the painting,

  'I am Paolo to her Francesca...'

so it is obviously a theme I couldn't get out of my head, and thankfully so, because it is such a breathtaking piece of work and one I hold dear thanks to J and L.

And just so typical of me when I get inspired by something, I find myself searching the pages of Google or Ask, eating the hundreds of versions of the fated lovers, from watercolours to sculptures, it's fascinating stuff.

Actually, re-reading this blog, I think I may be having a little love affair of my own - just don't tell Big Fella.

Hugs,

Karen xxxxx

Young Parisienne

I'm a little inspired.

OK, so I admit it, I have become a bit of a Facebook addict, of which I am totally ashamed, but after the events of this week, I guess it does have it's advantages.

See, over the past 7 days, I've been trying to get my author profile out there, you know, blatantly plug my book, that kind of thing, and through my journey I've come across some really interesting stuff, things that have inspired me after a gruelling week of nursing big fella with chicken pox and JB with a nasty cough, and it comes in the heavenly shape of Writer's groups.

My starting point in finding these groups was Anais Nin and Henry Miller, since the novel is heavily inspired by their love letters, and I thought like minded folk might appreciate my work, and hey, I met this lovely French gal named Elodie (what a fantastic name - and strangely enough, the name of my current leading lady!).

Elodie thankfully accepted my request to be her "friend" and we started an ongoing dialogue, in which she asked for a copy of my book.  I don't think she realises, but I was ecstatic at her enthusiasm as well as adoring her writing style.  Anyway, the book is currently on it's way to France, and I'm really happy about it.

Anyway, so now I've got the name "Elodie" in my head, and I'm having a bit of a French moment again, something I had a while back when writing A Love That Makes Life Drunk.  So, I start digging through Facebook again, and discover a book called "Petite Anglaise" by Catherine Sanderson, a true story about a young mother living and working in Paris who gets sacked for blogging (see my reads opposite), and hey, you can become a fan on Facebook, so I did, and not only did the story appeal to me, but I fell in love with the cover too - so typical me.

   Right, so I ordered it on Amazon straight away and discovered if I bought it, I could get another Paris book at a discount price, so I chose, Almost French by Sarah Turnball, and for good measure, I also bought  Paris Tales by Helena Constantine, yes, I agree, you could call me obsessive, and yet do you know what, I've only been to France once and that was on a school trip about twenty odd years ago.

Anyway, all this French thing took me back to revising ALTMLD last year and I've been reliving it a little.  See, Lily speaks immaculate French.  She had a year in Paris after becoming a translator and socialised with bohemian artists and writers as well as the occasional "modelling" for friends and basically living the cafe culture.  Jefferson also had a year in Paris in his mid twenties, and still has friends in Montparnasse whom he visits regularly, and it's this French connection that Jefferson cleverly uses to get to Lily.

'Oh you're so lucky,' she said sitting back, pulling her skirt down slightly.  I hoped she hadn't caught me looking, 'oh I bet their apartment is stunning.'

'It is,' we'd found another shared passion, 'it has authentic shutters and ivy growing around the window; you'd adore it.'

We looked at each other and I swear she was reading my mind, or rather my eyes, because to take Lily to Paris, to have that time with her, well, I'd do anything I could to make it happen.

Their love of literature, and Lily's love of Anais Nin heads them quickly into a dangerous collision that Jefferson has so deviously orchestrated, and so inevitably, later in the book, they do go to Paris.

Of course, I've never been to Paris myself, so detailed research here was crucial and I absolutely adored it, even though it took weeks.  It also lead me to read books such as Kate Muir's Left Bank, Jeremy Mercer's Books, Baguettes  and Bedbugs, which I loved, plus the slightly disturbing, but brilliant The Story of the Eye by Georges Bataille (or Lord Auch) and not for the faint hearted The Sexual Life of Catherine M by Catherine Millet.

Anyway, going back to my friend Elodie, I've already apologised for the crappy French translation, and thankfully she's already forgiven me, empathy has allowed her to do this - phew.

OK, so I am totally buzzed up, and really looking forward to starting Petite Anglaise as well as being fired up about Lily and Jefferson's Parisian escape, and now I can't wait for the kids to go to bed (although this is currently touch and go, could be as late as 10 by the time big fella has finished smashing his room to bits - again), so I can get cosy with a glass of wine and my PJ's and come over all sentimental again.

Right, gotta go, time is running out before the kids get back,

Au Revoir,

Karen xxx

High Maintenance? You bet!

I've recently joined an online forum called "MUMSCLICK" (www.mumsclick.com)

I found it whilst updating Facebook and now I'm a little hooked.  It's a great little place that's open 24/7 and the ladies on line are pretty fabulous, it's like having your best friend on call.

Anyway, apart from taking part in the Mumsclick cafe, there's also loads of other places to visit: the Book Club, Music Club (Album of the Week is Konk by The Kooks - how cool) the Cook Club (my strawberry cheesecake cupcakes are recipe of the week - yippee!), and as regulars to my blog will agree, this is just my cup of tea, and there's always loads of different debates and social groups happening, and most of us are now friends on Facebook as well, it's a great little community, and the lovely thing about Mumsclick is, it's mum's of all ages, and as we know, experience counts for everything.

OK, so there's this one debate in particular I love, "The one thing you wear that never fails to make you feel sexy."   As soon as I saw  it, I knew I had to take part.  Since having JB, my confidence has dropped like a lead balloon, esp where my body is concerned, let alone my mind and sharing what could be considered to be our private intimate thoughts was pretty liberating, and I think most of the ladies felt so too.

Anyway, it wasn't a surprise to discover most of us head towards the same things to make us feel sexy. A good pair of heels (Louboutins and Karen Millen mentioned) and matching sexy/pretty underwear  (AP of course, corsets, lace, chiffon, baby dolls and thongs), came out on top, closely followed by perfume (the luscious No. 5 being the most preferred). Holds ups and suspenders were also up for debate, prompting one "mum" to divulge how the "hint of an outline of the suspender strap" made her feel "super sexy" I just love that, it's so totally on my wavelength (and my writing).

Other "sexy" things included, a flattering dress, a low cut top, a good hair cut, straightened hair, "a nice golden brown tan" ,  fragranced body oil and make up (Kohl in the eyes for a sexy smokey look), and the fantasy ingredient of "buckled biker boots" (ooh missus!) and my personal favourite "a big smile".

Some of us mentioned indulging in a glass or two of the good stuff, whilst others thought a tipple combined with heels could be very messy - indeed ladies.

Of course, when it came to my turn, I totally let rip mentioning everything that had ever made me feel sexy -typical me I ended up writing an essay. 

My list included: underwear, heels (better if pointed, satin, silver and has ribbons!), bare treated toenails (! - OK, I wear alot of flip flops all year round, it's important right?) Johnson's holiday skin and Ralph Lauren perfume, but in truth, I could have gone on forever, because when I sat and thought about it, there's loads of things that make me feel nice, OK, not necessarily sexy, but they all go towards making me like myself, and I picked up a fair bit of that from the Mumsclick ladies too.  But indulgence aside, even something as simple as my fav Body Shop body butter, knowing I've shaved my legs or my fav PJs can make me feel bloody gorgeous, because it's all in the mind, call it preference or socialisation, who knows.

Anyway, when I analysed it, I realised you don't have to just wear something to make you feel sexy, and you certainly don't have to rely on a man/partner to reassure you either;  a song can make you feel sexy, a book, the feel of something, a smell, a film, a photograph, a colour (think "sexy pink" by Dulux), and food! and all this is achievable with just one person - you.

But I guess the one thing that was evident throughout all this, is we remain women.  We're not just mums, although we love that too, we are individuals in our own right, and bloody sexy we are too.  Since having my kids, I love being a woman even more, girly or professional, sexy or cute, I wanna be everything, and if that makes me high maintenance, then bring it on (thankfully Big Fella knew this before he married me), and as one of the mumsclick ladies put it,

"It's good to be high maintenance and  naughty is good."

Too right. 

But thanks to all the lovely ladies who contribute to Mumsclick, I'm feeling happier and quite sexy, even in my t-shirt, joggers and post pregnancy weight, because I'm no longer alone and have started fighting my need to be perfect.

Have a sexy weekend

Karen xxx

JUST FOR TONIGHT - You and Me

One Night Only have Started A Fire.

Last night, me and Big Fella drove the short journey down the road to Coventry to a cool little place called the Kasbah.  See, there was this little known North Yorkshire band playing and that folks is One Night Only.

I guess if you have the time to sit around watching MTV TWO, you'll probably have seen these guys, but if you haven't, check them out, because I have a real feeling they're going to be big.

I discovered them just after JB was born.  I was recovering from a c-section and doing endless feeds, so was basically stuck to the sofa, and to relieve the boredom, I started watching the music channels again, seeming to tune in around the time of the My Space and Red button Charts, and hey, there they were in black and white with "It's About Time".

Impressed by what I saw and heard, I took a gamble and bought their album "Started A Fire", and after becoming addicted to that, I bought tickets for the Kasbah and persuaded Big Fella to come with me.

Anyway, after a coupla cheeky ciders and being surprisingly entertained by their support, The Wallbirds, One Night Only strode onto the stage to the almighty "Stay At Home" and I still cannot believe their frontman George Craig is only 17, because he has a phenomenal voice and pretty cool on stage presence, watch out for this man in the future - you have been warned.

OK, so their set isn't that long, but I didn't care, because I was having a brilliant time being entertained by 5 nubile guys who obviously love music and making it.  I loved You and Me (new single out July), totally rocking and energetic and Just For Tonight, which was a total crowd pleaser.  Mr Craig also did an acoustic rendition of "Sweet Sugar" which was awesome, again making me question whether this guy is fibbing about his age. I also loved Hide, a darker rockier side to ONO, and something I hope they pursue on the next album.

Right, so as you can tell, I'm somewhat smitten, but aside from that, as entertainers they were pretty amazing, so cool infact, I've already ordered tickets to see them again in October at the Birmingham Academy, this time going with big sis.

Anyway, Just for Tonight, it was them and me, and do you know what, it felt bloody awesome.

Have a good one, cheers, K xxx

The Elegant and Refined Mr Jefferson Howie

There's just something about Jefferson Howie I love.

I must say, he's not always a likeable hero, but there's something charming about him that takes my breath away.

Jefferson James Howie is a 37 years old journalist/author.  His novels are somewhat on the vulgar side, and he is a man who speaks his mind without caring who he offends, and that's because he can be.  He's deadly handsome, stylish, sexy and intelligent - think someone like Rupert Penry-Jones, an English gentleman with rugged yet smooth good looks who women swoon over, especially in Saville Row dark suits, white shirt and no tie (and of course those square toed shoes, Italian I would guess).

When I started creating Jefferson Howie, he was a new kind of man for me to be writing about.  My archtypical male is a young Indie style guy, but Mr Howie is very different.  To start with, he's older, taller, (approx. 6ft 2), clean shaven, has deep brown eyes and wears rather cool black rimmed rectangular glasses.  He has perfectly cut finger nails with almost feminine qualities about them (see Lily's description on page 139 - where she tells her journal,

"...he was sharp, refined, elegant and effortlessly sexy...He makes my skin tingle."

and it's this that makes me like him so much, he's a bit of a maverick, a deeply handsome maverick; he's aware of his flaws and doesn't attempt to hide them, or be anything else; ruthless, yes, but also a little appealing, it allows him to show a little vulnerability, something quite rare until he meets Lily.

"...sophisticated, elegant and refined...Jefferson is elegant; I like that alot." (Lily)

"You describe me as a much better person than I really am."

"No J," she got to her knees, "you are that person."

But A Love That Makes Life Drunk isn't Jefferson's first appearance in my world, just after having Little Fella, I wrote a novel called Other Side of the World and he featured as a love interest of the heroine, but only lasted a couple of chapters, but I wasn't satisfied with that, I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him or rather he didn't want to say goodbye to me (incidentally the novel was about Gracie Miller and Eliot Hansen who make a brief appearance in A Love That Makes Life Drunk) and finally, in April 2006, I gave in, and Jefferson Howie, controversial author and journalist was born.

Creating Mr Howie took a fair bit of time, mainly because he was going to be the voice of the book.  I tend to follow a similar form for each of my novels, I start with appearance (hair, eyes, skin etc.), then go on to status, culture, distinctive features, speech, background, family, geography, friends, lifestyle/interests, books, films, restaurants/bars, shops, food, drinks, music, aftershave, habitat, and usually finish with clothes; with this gentleman, I also had to include such details as size of genitalia (!) because, let's just say, it features quite heavily throughout the book.  Detail is everything, and without it, JJ would not be the man he is today.

OK, so he's the quintessential Englishman, but he wasn't actually based on someone like Rupert Penry-Jones at all, it was actually Tom Delonge (Angels and Airwaves; Blink 182). The height, the hair, the eyes, the slight ruggedness and naughtiness (!), but as I well know myself, there is nothing more brilliant than individual imagination, in the end, it is the reader who decides.

Jefferson's relationship with Lily begins the moment she walks into his apartment with her boyfriend Luke, who is also Jefferson's younger brother.  He sees her as the beautiful unobtainable redhead who's in love with his brother, and typically, the more he can't have her, the more he wants her.  As the relationship develops from social chats at the local writer's group to Champagne in a late bar he has to acknowledge his confusion over her; he no longer just wants to take her to bed, he's in love with her.  It's a tricky dilemma, and one he doesn't acknowledge until the end of the book.

He is raw, passionate, sexy, ruthless and arrogant- he is the perfect leading man for a book heavily inspired by the love affair between Anais Nin and Henry Miller.  He is almost a 21st Century Miller, one of the things that attracts Lily to him, something that is addressed as early as Chapter One -"Francesca and Paolo"  and still his "reputation" is not enough to deter one Ms Mills.

The other thing I love about Jefferson is he's very real.  On recent trips to London, I swear I've seen him walking across the road past the Ivy to get to his apartment, and sipping a vintage whiskey at the Convent Garden Hotel with his dark suit and floppy fringe.  I even think I've seen him and Lily standing outside the Hummingbird Bakery eating cupcakes and sharing intimacy.

So, despite his arrogance, his sexual language and his unforgivable betrayal, I can forgive Jefferson, because he does, afterall, challenge his past ways to keep Lily, and why, because he's in love with her in a way he never imagined possible for "someone as squalid as me", and is blood thicker than love and desire? Well, you'll have to read the book to find out!

Praise for JJ!!

K xxx

One Night Only!

OK, so, the kids have been dropped off at my folks, and me and Big Fella can't get back to the house quick enough to open that bottle of whatever, you see, this is our first big night out in almost 10 months, and more than that, I can drink!!!

I selected the music, and Big Fella poured the wine, but I had to take it easy, I already had a bit of a head on after the first couple of sips, and the evening was turning out to be a pleasant one so we sat in the garden.  Our taxi wasn't due until 7.30pm, so we thought we'd dabble in a few of nibbles.

Then I thought I'd better get myself ready. Yes, I have had my outfit planned for ages, but wasn't sure if I'd fit into it, but by some miracle, I did (just).   Anyway, I've recently sorted my hair and make up out, and feel a little bit more like my old self.

So, since I had a bit of time to kill, and One Night Only were playing downstairs, (very appropriate once my folks have recovered from a night with little fella and JB), I set my essentials out on the bed like I used to as a girl in my teens and twenties and set about making myself look half decent.

In this time, me and Big Fella realise this is the first time we've actually dressed together for months since little fella absolutely cannot be left alone downstairs, it would be, can I say, total f***ing carnage, so we enjoy reliving a little of our Cardiff Barfly days.

We've got the mighty Strokes on NME TV upstairs (One Night Only still on downstairs), glass of wine and my new Ted Baker pink wedge heels, which incidentally I've never ever worn (wedge heels), me and my sis have always laughed at them for being very 70's, and hey, here I am!

OK, so we're ready, Big Fellas wearing his new white Converse daps and me in wedge heels and we're ready to go.

Right, so I forgot to take the camera to the actual night out (Big sis's birthday, bit of a Karaoke bonanza! We wanted to sing Kids in America, but the bloody disc wouldn't play, so we ended up doing a rather giggly rendition of Duran Duran's Notorious.  I so badly wanted to do I bet that you look good on the dancefloor by Arctic Monkeys, but chickened out of doing it alone!). 

All in all, it was a pretty great night out.  I didn't get too drunk, didn't allow myself too, afterall, One Night Only remember, and once the sun rises, our kids are waiting on the horizon and my folks have turned into Zombies due to sleep deprivation (for which I am currently living the dream).

Anyway, we managed to resist burger and chips, so we indulged at home instead, me minus my heels and Big Fella cooking up veggie bacon sandwiches, fried eggs (from Polly, bless) and spicy bean burgers (yum!), washed down with another glass of vino for the road.

Anyway, we crashed out at about 1.30am and for once, enjoyed a full nights kip, ready for the rest of the bank holiday weekend, which of course, in true Roderick stylie included, yes, a BBQ, where I invited Jamie Oliver, an extra from Green Day and a plate of vine tomatoes!

Enjoy your day,

Love K xxx