Hey Hay
It’s nearly 5 months since CHOPSY was released into the world, and what a time it has been.
I’ve been everywhere, libraries, galleries, some amazing bookshops – Book Space Cardiff being a particular favourite. I’ve been invited to literary birthdays by the sea and celebrations of local Domestic Abuse charities.
Online launches with The Bee Literary Magazine, Wild Women Salon and private events with the civil service were all a blast.
CHOPSY has been selling out: The Tate Modern as part of the Tracy Emin range, The National Library, and, amazingly, Shakespeare and Co in Paris.
Then, of course, I was at The Hay Festival.
I spent the first day, wandering around a little dumbstruck.
I’ve never been to The Hay Festival before because, well, I couldn’t afford it. The site is amazing, loads to do and see, but it can cost a lot if you want to see everything.
Gifted free tickets as part of speaking at the event, the daughter and I chose an utterly brilliant improv Jane Autin performance with Austentatious – a re-telling of that well-known classic Pride and Puberty.
Mirriam Margolyes was fabulous – sweary, political and incredibly generous and respectful to the young person in the audience with Tourette’s.
The funniest thing was the couple sitting next to me. I should point out that tickets to see Miriam were nearly £30 each. ( Thank you again, Hay, for the free tickets) I’m assuming this couple, late middle-aged, he couldn’t stop scrolling his phone; I’m assuming they’d heard of Mirriam. They must have seen her, surely. Or read her books.
I don’t know what they were expecting, but their outrage at Mirriam’s calling out Farage as a Twat was hysterical. They were spitting feathers at her analysis of Israel’s war on Gaza, and almost apoplectic when the great lady took a swipe at Boris. They muttered and tutted along, stony-faced, while those around them cheered and clapped. It brought me more joy than it should to know they’d paid nearly £60 to hear that their narrow world view was not respected there.
Hay was hot, and the green room was the coolest place to be. Endless free coffee and cake, there was also air-con and lots and lots of people to watch. Emma Thompson and Cressida Cowell, Jeremy Bowen, Cariad-Lloyd, Arabella Weir, and Kathy Lette, yer man off the telly who does the House through time. Mostly, while trying to stay cool, the daughter and I nudged each other, noticing writers we adored, Maggie O’Farrell, Karen Millwood, Helena Kennedy, and Ali Smith. Too shy to say hello, we mostly waited to be escorted to the stage.
After weeks of preparation, the hour on stage went by in a flash. I’m not even sure what we talked about or if it made sense. Under strict instructions not to swear (which only made me more paranoid that I’d fucking swear), I nearly got away with it, until just before the end, when I called Welsh literary genius, Caradoc Evans, a dick for being mean about my beloved Allen Raine.
To be fair, I don’t know if he was a dick. I’m sure he was very nice man. He just didn’t appear to be very nice to Allen Raine.
I wasn’t told I’d be doing a book signing until I was on my way to the book signing, so I didn’t announce it onstage. As a result, no one came to get their books signed. The queue next to me was massive and looking like Billy-no-mates, I made a dash for the exit as soon as I could and hey presto! got to see Mirriam.
For me, the best thing about Hay has always been the Hay Festival Anytime. Started in lockdown, that was the first time I had the chance to ‘attend’ the festival. (I paid for it with my A Writing Chance Award money.) For £20 for a year, you get to listen to everyone who’s ever been at the festival. Maya Angelou, Kae Tempest, Elizabeth Strout, Val McDermid…and now me!
You can listen to me trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about and ultimately failing not to swear.
I’ve loved meeting readers, chatting books and CHOPSY with all the wonderful people I have met these past few months. I love it when people tell me they bought the book and then passed it on to their mum, their aunt, their friends. (though there are still more copies for sale – you could buy them all one each, lol) I love that so many women feel seen in the stories that I wrote. But I’m not gonna lie, I am tired, and the M.E fairy is in a right huff.
I’m gonna take the next few months off, hopefully plan some library events for the Autumn, listen to cool people on Hay Anytime, and get back to my real job and write.
After months of notes, the next novel is nearly ready to begin. This is the story of a menopausal teaching assistant who is the only one who can suddenly see a Pooka (a shapeshifting Celtic fairy of mischief) called Mrs Harris, a large back gorilla wearing a yellow plastic party hat. Much fun and mayhem, I hope. I’m so excited to fall in love with the characters and see where they take me. (For film lovers, Harvey, where Jimmy Stewart sees a 6ft rabbit, is also a pooka)
Hopefully, some time to rest will give me more time to chat to you, too. I’ve missed hanging out, and I’ve loads to tell you.
What have you been up to?
Are you shopping anywhere?
Change the colour of your hair?
Did you have to go to jail?
Put your house on up for sale?
Did you get a good lawyer?
Much love xxxx
Bordering Grey 