The Silence is Broken

Forgive me, readers, for the long silence on this blog. Life is starting to settle down just a little bit, after much turmoil, tumult, and tiredness! We moved from St Bees, Cumbria, on July 29, and then promptly went to Canada for three weeks to visit my family. Then back to our new house, new village, new life, all of us blinking in stunned surprise at where we'd landed. A few weeks on the boxes are mostly unpacked save for those pesky few that we'll probably cart, unpacked, to our next house. They're filled with a variety of odds and ends--spare batteries, paint brushes, an old scarf--that there seems to be no place or use for but I am reluctant to throw them out.

It's been hard to move this time, and we are, alas, Champion Movers. But we didn't want to move here; we didn't want to leave Cumbria. And so 'settling in' has taken on a whole new meaning.

The village we landed in is lovely, though, like something out of a Miss Marple adaptation. Roses round every cottage door, lovely footpaths through rolling fields, and we are living right next to the church (again!) so every Wednesday night we hear the peal of bells as the bell ringers practice their craft.

People, for the most part, have been friendly, although it can be tiring to have the same conversations over and over again. And while acquaintances are made in a day, friends take a little longer.  But we persevere. Every so often I pause, breathless with surprise that we are actually here. That we actually left Cumbria. And then I try to move on.

So prepare yourself for a new village life! I'm not the vicar's wife but merely an ordinary resident (as if I wasn't before!!) and I am still writing, still trying to mother five children and keep my head above water. Stay tuned for my further adventures in the Cotswolds…

The comfort of a village life

It's been a long time since I've written, and that's because a lot has happened. A lot of not-so-good things. In mid-March the school where my husband works and children attend announced quite suddenly that it is closing in July due to dwindling pupil numbers. This came as a big shock to everyone, because from the outside the school looked like it was doing well. It certainly came as a shock to us!

What has happened over the following few weeks demonstrates the power of a village community. Over 700 people came to a meeting immediately following the announcement to find ways to keep the school was open. A 'Rescue Team' was formed and has been campaigning tirelessly to keep it open, and many, many people have volunteered to help. You can learn more about it here.

However, two days ago the Governors of the school announced they would not rescind the closure notice, and so the school is, in fact, closing. What this means for us is that we will lose our lovely village life, and move elsewhere--watch this space!

The other very hard thing that happened was last week my dear father was diagnosed with leukaemia, with a prognosis varying from a few months to a year or possibly more. This also came out of the blue, and was (and is) very hard to bear. My father is the most wonderful person, so funny and wise and loving. My children adore him. I flew out to be with him and my mother last week:

While I was away my village community rallied around to help my family, taking care of children, making meals, and writing us cards of care and support. I am so thankful for everyone here. They have proved stalwart friends in both good times and bad.

Meanwhile spring has burst upon us at last, and the sunshine and warm(ish) weather is a balm to my wounded soul. Plus I have lots of new books out, which is always exciting. My romance set in a small town in Vermont is out now:

You can buy it on any ebook platform. I also received ARCs of my novel for Penguin/NAL, Rainy Day Sisters, which I am very excited about. Coming to a bookshop near you in August!

Meanwhile I am enjoying the sunshine and treasuring the days, because I am realising how precious and fleeting time is.