Postcard from Cardiff

Unexpected highlight of my trip to Cardiff: the wall which protects Bute Park from the traffic-clogged Cowbridge Road. Perched on the coping stones are delightful animal sculptures some with glass eyes making them seem so alive I imagined them poised on the point of escape into the city centre. I may start a campaign for all walls everywhere to be fitted with these.

The actual purpose of the trip also mixed the imaginary and real worlds - I went to see a painting which featured in Margaret Forster's book 'Keeping the World Away'. The book is part fictionalised biography of the artist Gwen John and part story of other women who've encountered one of her paintings. It's the one on the right below and is called 'Corner of the Artist's Room'. You can see she used the corner as backdrop for other paintings, there are even several versions of the 'Corner' itself and a print of it hangs in my own house. Cardiff Museum and Art Gallery are lucky enough to own an original, well worth driving 100 miles to see. I love the picture because the dormer window is similar to that in my 'book nook', although my view is of south Birmingham tree tops rather than Parisian roofs.

Another unexpected delight in the Cardiff area is Dyffryn Gardens. You know how much I enjoy sitting in a garden and how much I dislike actual gardening. Popping into each differently themed garden 'room' at Dyffryn was fascinating and attempting to select a favourite impossible. What's that? You're not interested in the plants, you want to know about the cafe? Come on, it's National Trust, of course they do good cake!

Postcard from the Library

Queues have formed outside the new Library of Birmingham every day since it opened last Tuesday. Millions of photographs have been taken by thousands of visitors. And, this weekend, the city centre buzzed with celebrations to welcome the new building. Which is why I've posted you a picture of a singer from the brilliant Birmingham Opera Company presenting Mussorgsky's Songs and Dances of Death in the library amphitheatre, rather than a shot of the building. Other photographers have taken better pictures than me. Google it if you haven't seen it. It's the kind of architecture you'll have an opinion on.

The folk at the Library were kind enough to let me have a go on their blog in which I expressed how keen I was to get inside and start working there again. From my first visit, I'm impressed. I like the layout of space, the light, the gardens, the views. I enjoyed rounding a shelf to discover an intriguing artwork. I loved seeing Brummies expressing their surprise at how much information and entertainment was freely available to them. But I can't work there, not yet.

A pedestrian thoroughfare passed below the old Central Library. Everyone walked under it on their way somewhere else; very few went inside. The fanfare around the new Library means the entire city want to see inside so, for now, it's a destination as much as a library. When I visited there were queues at almost every librarian's desk. I bet they've never been so popular and it's great to see people interested in books of all kinds. Fortunately I'm at the stage of plotting ideas for my next novel so people watching counts as research. Maybe the crowds will have dispersed by the time I want to sit down and write. I've spotted the window-facing desk I fancy and I don't need the library to be silent in order to work there. I'd just prefer not to queue!

Postcard from home

I took my holidays early this year so I'm spending the summer in Birmingham working, writing and helping to organise the PowWow LitFest. Given that we've actually had some sunny weather this summer, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. After all, Birmingham does look like a tourist destination sometimes.

Postcard from the retreat

My 'Christmas card list' tour continued with a trip to the south west recently. Friends in Devon and Dorset were 'treated' to my company while I abused their hospitality and called it a holiday. A working holiday though. In between weekend stays with friends, I spent the week at a writing retreat and made good progress on my current novel.

You may think that all I'd need to write a novel is an idea (check), a laptop (check), and some time (check). I find the discipline of devoting time to the job a good incentive to get on with it though. At Retreats for You almost all distractions are removed. Delicious food is served without need for shopping or cooking, drinks and snacks are freely available and convivial company is restricted to certain times. Meaning: all other hours can be devoted solely to writing. So I did. Except. It is important to exercise the body as well as the mind. The picture shows the River Torridge which was down a steep enough hill from my writing desk to class as strenuous and that dog needed to be taken for its swim.

Just to reassure you I was working, here's my Devon desk. I miss it already.

Postcard from the stone

I'm currently revising my latest novel, which means paying attention to details such as settings.The plot is in place, the characters are full of life - so now I need to colour in the scenery to allow readers to build a full picture of events in their mind. I tend to skip over that stage in my first drafts.

It should be easy. After all, I set my books in the city I live in. I regularly walk through it. In theory I know what it looks like and only have to translate that into words on the page. But although I think I'm observant it turns out I haven't been looking quite closely enough.

I went on a walking tour recently themed around the sculpture of William Bloye. His work enhances a lot of Birmingham's public and private buildings and he was Professor of Sculpture at the city's art school, which ties in nicely with some events in my book. Once I started looking at his work, I remembered other things I've seen in a similar vein. Connections were made, ideas generated, stories began to develop. I bet thousands of people walk past the plaque in the photo above every day without looking properly. They've probably got other things on their minds; it is near the entrance to a police station.

The tour was a good reminder to keep my eyes open and a notebook to hand. And it drew my attention to the story of a dog who accompanied his stone mason owner to work every day and is now immortalised in the fabric of the city. Bet not many Brummies have noticed, despite it being in a prime central location. I like how some of the city's stories are marked in its stones. Now I just have to tell a few of them.

Postcard from Bournville

Yesterday I took a spring sunshine stroll down the road to Bournville - home of Cadbury's and a cafe serving brownies made with the famous local product (other cakes were also available: including lemon curd and rhubarb for those of a less chocoholic disposition). Lawnmowers hummed, daffodils swayed in the breeze across the Green, coaches rolled into Cadbury World and I remembered why I couldn't actually live there. It's a lovely place to visit, but all feels staged. I guess I prefer my suburbs chaotically organic rather than pleasantly planned.

Still, I appreciated the afternoon out. Recent, hectic, days have included speaking at two events about Park Life, going to work and attending a wedding. Oh, and a theatre trip, a second visit to Bletchley Park, choir, new carpet, writing the new novel and time with family and friends. All good, interesting, entertaining things but I feel it's always important to pause and make time for tea. And also important to try local specialities. I know Bournville chocolate is readily available throughout the UK, but look: I was practically sitting in the factory. It would have been rude not to!

Postcard from Granada

Apologies for the dearth of recent posts - I became so bored of seeing snow lying everywhere I couldn't bring myself to photograph it. So I flew to southern Spain - Granada in Andalusia - in hope of better weather. Not entirely successfully. It seems the unseasonable temperatures have hit all Europe which is disappointing.

What was not disappointing was the Alhambra itself. My photo doesn't do it justice. Imagine how that peachy stone would glow under sunlight, how a clear blue sky would show it off. Never mind - while the plain stone walls loom over the town, the interior is something else entirely. Walls half tiled in spice shades and half decorated with detailed arabesque plaster work, marble floored courtyards inset with fountains, carved wooden doors and arched windows looking out to distant mountains (the only place I was happy to see snow). Incredibly exotic.

Hiking up steep hills in chilly drizzle isn't top of my holiday wishlist but when there's a sight like that at the top and a warm bath at the hammam followed by cerveza and tapas waiting at the bottom, that'll do for me thanks!

Postcard from Yorkshire

It struck me when I was writing Christmas cards last year that rather than posting cards to people I don't see frequently enough, wouldn't it be nice to actually go and visit those people? From such random musings are great projects born. Well, I posted the cards and thought I'd leave the actual visits until the weather improved. Mistake. I remember the weather being balmy at Christmas, while February has been stuck in the freezer.

My Christmas card list encompasses most of the UK - from Inverness to Devon - and while it would be fantastic to take a few months off and drive round the entire country, it's more practical to break things down. So, to Yorkshire. And very fine it was too.

In addition to visiting friends from school (one last seen in person about twenty years ago!), I got to the Hepworth Museum and Yorkshire Sculpture Park in Wakefield, the galleries, museums, shops and pubs in Leeds, the cafes in York and took this picture on an incredibly scenic drive through the Dales.

Britain is brilliantly diverse and so crammed with spectacle that the distances you have to drive to see such variety aren't actually that great. Well, not if you've made the sensible decision to base yourself in the Midlands and haven't looked into that visit to Inverness too seriously anyway. As much as the catching up with old friends though, I just loved being out on the road. Am already planning my trip to the south west this summer. Surely me turning up on the doorstep with a bottle of wine is better than any Christmas card?

Postcard from Charlecote Park

January 2013 was notable for snow. I'm sure you saw enough of that without me posting from it. February's treat is snowdrops: brave portents of spring. I found these at Charlecote Park in Warwickshire, along with deer, mice on swings (in sculptural form) and woven willow balls.

I love to find sculpture in a landscape and wonder what "Capability" Brown would have thought of the additions to his landscaped grounds. He tried to perfect nature but I'm all for eye-catching additions and don't mind a little whimsy. The snowdrops were the stars though. No competition.

Yes, I know, you're convinced I can't have had an outing without setting foot in a cafe. Well, turn 180 degrees from the view above and there's an Orangery within which I ate delicious soup and a delightful cream tea. Jealous much?

Christmas Card 2012

Christmas decorations are minimalist at my place again this year. As my modern house doesn't possess a fireplace (panic! How will Santa get in?) poinsettia petals and candles have to create the fireside feeling. They're doing a reasonable job.

2012 has been an interesting year. Having my first novel, Park Life, out led to lots of opportunities and it's been lovely to get so much positive feedback. Looking ahead to 2013 I'm planning to finish my novel in progress - at the moment it needs a lot of work!

For now though, the Christmas break is here. Cue food, drink and festivities. Seasons greetings to you and yours and here's to health and happiness in 2013.

K x

Postcard from the city

'Mister Volder goes to the City' is a surreal short story by Ben Pacey. A man arrives in a new place and tries to build a life there assisted by a talking dog with a cough which might improve if it smoked fewer cigarettes. The story is also the inspiration behind an exhibition currently on at the mac in Birmingham. There's a short film which gave me the disoriented feeling of arriving in a new place, copies of the story to read, a model city and, best of all, postcards!

These postcards invite their readers to create their own Mr Volder story. That's my 'The Birds'-inspired one posted above. You can see more at their postcard blog and there's a running display as part of the exhibition.

The combination of postcards and stories was almost guaranteed to appeal to me. Why not try it? Head down to the mac, buy a coffee and take a seat. It'll be a nice day out in the city. Unless any small dogs speak to you...

Postcard from Westonbirt

I have a fondness for autumn based purely on its colours. A crisp winter day has its merits, but tends to be cold. Spring has flowers, but can also be damp, and summer is never as hot and sunny as I'd like it to be. Autumn makes a feature out of its downside: the year may be getting colder but there's one final blaze of glory before nature's done for the year.

Westonbirt Arboretum in Gloucestershire is a great place to see the changing colours. They have collections of acers which look their best as the leaves turn.






I  might have soaked up enough colour to get me through the dark days of winter. I certainly over-indulged on the cake at their cafe. That should keep me warm. 

Postcard from book club

I haven't got on well with book clubs in the past. Too frequently having to read books I didn't enjoy or listen to people who like the sound of their own voice despite having nothing relevant to say had put me off. But when I heard Waterstones on New Street in Birmingham were putting together a group to judge the longlist for The Guardian's First Book Award, I was tempted to have another go.

One reason was the fact the award covers non-fiction, and poetry as well as fiction and the thought of reading well beyond my usual, safe choices appealed. Another reason was an assumption that all the books might be good by virtue of being on the longlist. These things are subjective but, despite that assumption, I quickly ran into one of my problems - I had to read books I didn't enjoy. At all.

It was intense - 11 books in 8 weeks and weekly meetings to collate our opinions. A good challenge for a writer looking to improve her critical reading though. And, here's the real highlight, the other members of the group were great. We didn't always agree, but that was part of the joy of it because we never fell out and had many laughs along the way.

The Guardian will announce the final shortlist based on input from ours and 3 other groups soon but here's my personal pick (and issues - while the point is that these are first books, ie the author has room to grow, none of them got unreserved praise from me):
The China Factory by Mary Costello - moving, tender, beautifully expressed short stories (but there's little light to temper the shade in the collection so I don't recommend reading it in one go and the male characters didn't always ring true to me)
The Yellow Birds by Kevin Powers - intense observations from the front line (but this one split our group - some didn't rate it)
Absolution by Patrick Flanery - by far the most accomplished and satisfying read of the list (but perhaps too clever for its own good - it makes the reader work hard for the story).

Postcard by hand

What you'll also know is that I sometimes experience confusion about where apostrophes should be!

Philip Henser article

Postcard from Manchester

That title's misleading. I did spend two days in Manchester recently, but I mostly saw the Midland Hotel. After the restrained elegance of Hardwick Hall on my previous postcard, pulling up in front of this façade could only cause culture shock.

It's striking, no doubt about that. And the interiors have style and variety of which modern hotels can only dream. It has stories too - Mr Rolls met Mr Royce there and look how well that turned out.

You can hear the 'but', can't you? I like to explore any place I visit, get a feel for it, find something out, not just see a hotel. So Manchester: I'm sorry, I missed you - the difficulties of travelling for work. The conference I attended just wasn't postcard material.

However, autumn is coming and I am plotting a trip to see some colours. I also have a few events for Park Life coming up. You can see details of those here.

Postcard from Hardwick Hall

The scale of the windows at Hardwick Hall impressed me with their bling, but they must have been even more stunning in the sixteenth century. The entire house seems more glass than stone with a light and feminine feel to its construction all the way up to the filigree-fine ornamentation on the roof. This is a building dressed to impress.

Things get even less macho indoors with soft furnishings the main feature rather than paintings or furniture. And I loved the administrative triumph of the drawer-lined audit room. I almost wanted to live at Hardwick. I just suspect those huge windows of draughtiness.

The Hall couldn't be described as domestic in scale, but it's not stately or defensive. It's just beautiful.

Postcard from Stratford

This is Stratford-upon-Avon rather than the Olympic one, and things are rather more genteel. No lycra-clad exertion required and no records to beat - more likely that you'll bump into someone clad in Elizabethan finery declaiming iambic pentameter. And the worst of the traffic jams are on the water.

You might have expected me to post pictures of the Shakespeare houses or other picturesque sights but while there I went to an exhibition which made me look at things in a different way. 'Of all the people in all the world...', an installation by Stan's Cafe, used grains of rice to represent the individuals behind statistics in a way which made me fully appreciate what they meant. I work with numbers, but no graph or percentage score ever made me think as hard as this did.

Postcard from Moseley Old Hall

Complicated and labour-intensive gardening does not appeal to me. Here's what does: weathered brick enclosing a walled orchard, a lavender-lined path busy with bees, tea, and cake. This path led to a cafe serving delicious scones. Almost perfect. The quite large drawback is the M54 - makes it easy to get there but provides a constant soundtrack of tyre on tarmac.

Moseley Old Hall makes a big deal out of the fact Charles II hid there for two nights. They obviously hadn't got the cafe sorted back then or I'm sure he'd have stayed longer.

The property used to be a farm so the orchard is in keeping and the stables and other buildings have been put into service with shop, exhibition space etc. But they've done some gardening in what would have been the farm yard. Complicated, labour-intensive knot gardening. Those seventeenth century folk had no idea how to relax.

Postcard from The Voyage

A great big ship isn't what you expect to see in the middle of a land-locked city such as Birmingham. But a big ship is what we've had for the past weekend, albeit a fake one designed as a stage for a dance, music and light show. And it was great.

Not just seeing a ship docked against the Town Hall, but the entire show which included the excitement of a launch, the sadness of separation (with projected love letters as shown above), the tragedy of shipwreck and a joyous arrival. And it was free!

Apparently it was something to do with London 2012 but that makes so little sense I'm going to ignore it. I want to go on a Voyage again and I don't care who pays.

Postcard from the Jubilee

Britain has a problem. Not only because someone is bothering to dress this poor statue up for any excuse; not only because of the weather/performance at Eurovision/government/etc, but because of this: the word 'bostin'' has dropped out of common parlance.

As I was wondering whether to take this photo of the bull's Jubilee outfit given that a passing bird had removed what may have remained of his dignity with that white smear on his forehead, a couple stopped to read the sign placed by his rump. It's advertising the shopping centre's contributions to the summer of celebrations across Britain. They've branded this the 'Bostin British Summer'.

One of the pair said, (in an English accent, though not West Midlands) 'What's 'bostin'?'

I can't blame him. It's Brummie slang you don't hear used much even in Brum.

I don't really mind the Jubilee bunting overkill, the Olympic endurance event or anything else that's making 2012 the summer to supposedly end all summers. I just can't help thinking Britain would be a nicer place if it were Bostin rather than trying to be Great.