So I was having a more than usually tough time dealing with it one day and my grandfather came in and we talked for a bit, he had found me in floods of tears. I needed to get away for a while so I went on holiday to Greece. A friend of my grandmother’s had lived on one of the Greek islands (Syros, such a lovely place) for many years so I went to stay with her for 10 days, then down to Crete for 10 days where my grandfather joined me for the first week. I had to do all the travelling on my own, I had plane tickets already, but I had to make my way from the airport to the harbour, buy ferry tickets, find the ferry(! Not easy, believe me! There were loads and it was all in Greek). I also had to get from Syros to Crete on my own, then all in reverse at the end of my trip. Getting out and going somewhere on my own, realising that I COULD, was a big boost to my self-confidence. That was in the summer when I was 18, then came the year in the south and the new name. That trip to Greece was fantastic; I remember being on the bus from the airport near Athens going down to Piraeus, the port city, getting off the bus and the hot air, heavy with the smell of oregano, rolling over me, the tension just drains away at the memory. There had been four rather (strike that!) extremely gorgeous Italian guys (with names like Alessandro) on the bus, and I found myself sitting at a table with them outside a taverna, relaxing for the rest of the day while we all waited for various ferries. Kind of a heady afternoon and evening for a 18 year old English blond chick who only a couple of days before was being hounded my her schizophrenic mother, FREEEEEEEEDOOOOOMMM!!!!! And hot guys……. No I didn’t kiss anyone, no numbers were taken, I didn’t flirt with intent, I just enjoyed being there and the attention.
This is turning into a bit of a rambling history of me, of which there will be plenty more to come as I get around to writing it! Are most writers good at rambling on about themselves? Or just writing their books/articles/blogs? Most of them? Or just some?
My writing… when I started writing it was very childish stuff filling my brain and, it felt, as though it would come pouring out my ears if I didn’t get it down on paper. Yes, paper. After all, what 12 year old had a laptop in 1991? Ok, I just looked it up and ‘The IBM 5100, the first commercially available portable computer, appeared in September 1975’ according to Wikipedia. Now my memory might be failing me, but back in 1991 I remember being impressed by Atari and spectrum and the Sega master system. The kind of thing you plugged into your TV! Not laptops that you could carry around with their own screens. Oh look, there I go again! Back to topic… no laptop at 12. I went through reams and reams of paper, still have most of the stuff I wrote back then too. There may be a few good ideas, if not actual writing, in there! I wrote tweeny type stuff with a bit of a sci-fi side to it, the sci-fi edge got stronger as I grew older. There were times when I wrote a lot and times when I wrote hardly anything, but it petered out for a long time after I had my son. Occasionally I would get an idea, which would get scribbled down somewhere, or put into a file on whatever current computer I had. It was always there though, I was a writer, even if I wasn’t currently writing much. I was also a bar-tender, a pool player (it’s my thing), a sci-fi nut (starting to sound very girly…), a single mum and I had a big-assed tattoo down my back and side.
enough for now.