Consultation, Harpenden Style

A further frustrating week at Hedges Towers. As predicted, the 2CV has failed it MOT. One piddly little brake light, which if I'd known, I'd have fixed myself, and rust. Rust is to 2CVs what icebergs were to the Titanic. In this case, it is under the chassis, driver's side, rear quarter. This means the other dreaded word: Welding. Merely to say the word raises the spectre of a three figure bill. For the last week, the car has been in bits in Big Dave's garage, and I have been in bits here.

The passport saga has now reached its inevitable conclusion. As some of you know, I had applied for a new passport. What I did not realise was that it costs £77 +. Given the broken window bill (see:Bang Out of Order!) and the prospective 2CV bill, we can't afford it. And as I rarely venture abroad - well, I did go to St Helen's the other weekend without a passport, but nobody deported me, I maintain that I do not need one. The passport office, having received the application, have decided that I do. And they need the money. Now.

Cue several letters demanding it and then a phone call. BH fielded it. I could hear his voice getting colder and colder, until icicles were dripping off it. Finally he put the phone down. No, they cannot, apparently, save my info until we can afford a passport. And they don't do pensioner reductions. And they're probably not going to return the photos that we sent and had to pay for. Is it any wonder that we are turning into Two Grumpy Old Sods? Banks, insurance companies,water utilities ... we are rapidly running out of organisations that haven't annoyed us off to industrial strength.

Roman Snail on allotment site annexe

Which brings me, with a sad inevitability to Harpenden Town Council and my campaign to stop them building on our former allotment site. Having successfully got the Town Green Application turned down, even though it was supported by practically the whole community, they are now going to ''consult'' the same community about new play equipment on the field next door, which was devolved to them by the District Council in March 2011. They couldn't do it before because of Bad Old Me and my Town Green - though I have checked the legal position, and they could.

Be that as it may, we are all going to be asked what we'd like. Which is good. Whether we get anything is another matter altogether. My finely tuned irony-meter is currently in the red zone. When the field belonged to the District Council, we asked both councils regularly for new play equipment. Nothing to do with us, we were told by the District Council, the field was in Harpenden so they weren't going to fork out. Nothing to do with Harpenden, we were told by Harpenden Town Council, the field was owned by the District Council so they weren't going to fork out either. O tempora, o mores!

Allotment site in background, behind fence

However, amid all the promises of future largesse, there remains the inevitable question of the future of the allotment site, as the field was only returned to Harpenden Town Council on the basis that the allotments would be developed and an access road run right across the field. A ''deal'' which we were not told about until it was secretly signed off. Yes, I know most councils don't do it like this, but then when you rule the school and the District Council Cabinet also, and no other political group in Harpenden can be bothered to object or show the slightest interest in getting involved, you can virtually do what you like. Or so it appears.

The allotment land has been deliberately neglected and allowed to overgrow, and is now home to Roman Snails and, we believe, some badgers. What is going to happen to it? I put this to one of our local Tory Councillors as he was manning the Conservative Party Stall on St Albans Market the other week. Plans are going ahead for the development, I was told, despite opposition from 4 major wildlife societies, and the whole community. And the badgers, I asked. If there were any badgers, I was told, he'd go and put cyanide down. Of course, I was immediately reassured that this was just a joke. Funnily enough, I'm not laughing. Are you?

Allotment on left. All this will be cut down to make way for access road

See also:   Localism,Harpenden Style http://carolhedges.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/localism-harpenden-style.html
                  Democracy Harpenden Style http://carolhedges.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/democracy-harpenden-style.html

SNOW: A Meditation by Peter Davey

''I'm immensely grateful to the fabulous Carol Hedges for inviting me to park my pert posterior on her prestigious PINK SOFA and prattle away until it's time for my next dose of Prozac.

I'm fascinated by snow. Well, actually, I'm not fascinated by snow so much as by the British attitude to snow. Here we are, a tiny island stuck out in the North Sea, on about the same latitude as Newfoundland or Siberia yet due to the gentle caress of the Gulf Stream we greet the threat of snow not with the romantic resignation of the Russians or calm efficiency of the Canadians, but with a peculiar blend of bureaucracy and blind panic.

 The mere sight of a snowflake drifting past a window is enough to shut down the entire country's public transport system in anticipation of 'Arctic conditions' which almost never materialize. Our normally cheery TV weatherman assumes a grave, headmastery air, admonishing us to 'take only journeys which are strictly necessary' and implying that if we ignore these warnings we are behaving highly irresponsibly and may get put in detention.

Of course, on the rare occasions that a real blizzard renders the work thing completely out of the question, we're reduced instead to the start struggle for survival - or its modern Western equivalent, the struggle for fresh croissants. Despite the four foot snowdrifts banked against our door, we know we have to get on those coats and gloves and wellies and trudge down to Asda before those vultures who live next door have cleared out all the bread and milk and Chardonnay.

Having endured a week of this nightmare, and just when we feel we can't take any more, we suddenly notice our weatherman has regained his former jocularity.' Tomorrow a warm front will move in from the West,' he proclaims, ' the snow will turn to rain and a thaw will set in.' And the news is greeted by the entire nation with an audible sigh of ...... disappointment. For the fact is that, with the masochistic perversity which is another of our national characteristics, we've actually come to rather enjoy the suffering, the privation, the evenings clustered by candlelight round the fire eating 'win the war' suppers. because the power's goner off, granting us a few hours' blessed relief from the telly and the computer screen.

To me there is nothing sadder than the thaw: the great white giant reduced to a sad, pathetic, grimy shadow of his former self, vanquished not by us but by a few degrees' rise in the air temperature. Suddenly everything is dripping - trees, gutters, hedgerows - melting snow dripping into melting snow, then dribbling into drains and dykes and ditches ... drip drip drip.... an outward depiction of our desperate, drooping, deathly dysfunctional depression.

A few days after our last bout of polar conditions I went for a walk in green fields and sunshine - the sky blue, the clouds white, the air warm and springlike. In a shady corner I came across a sad little remnant - a heap of sooty slush clinging on for dear life but vanishing even as I gazed at it, and I could not help closing my eyes, pressing my foot into its depths and rejoicing in that creaking crunch unique to snow beneath the human welly. All of a sudden I was a little boy again, venturing out at first light after an all-night fall, trudging over the arctic wasteland that had once been the lawn, eagerly anticipating toboganing and snowball fights and days off school and marvelling at the sudden fabulous curves and cliffs and cornices, the tiny conical walls of white along every branch and twig and wire.

And most of all, that vast, all-embracing all-muffling silence which is so rare and precious in our  modern world, enhances by the distant indignant chirp of a blackbird. And I realized that however much we claim to hate it, however much it disrupts and inconveniences our adult lives, there remains deep down inside all of us, a child who loves the snow. Maybe I am fascinated by it after all...''


Peter Davey is one of those rare individuals who can turn his hand to any art or literary form: books, poems, art, photography. I have one of his beautiful watercolours on the Writing Room wall. His is the breathtaking photo at the top of this post.
Peters's book Loved and Lost in Lewisham can be found at http://www.amazon.co.uk/LOVED-AND-LOST-LEWISHAM-ebook/dp/B008PWXQI8
His art and photography can be viewed on http://www.pinterest.com/pedroyevad/pins/ . 
He can also be found on Twitter @PedroYevad

Thanks Peter for taking over the blog this week. I have had second edits to complete and invitations for the slightly manic Facebook Launch Party of the new book to send out. Next week, 'normal' (sic) service will be resumed. In the meantime, do stay and chat with Peter. Not often we have such multifariously talented person gracing the Writing Attic ....

Strong People Weep...But They Don't Go Under, A Guest Post from Carol Hedges

Strong People Weep...But They Don't Go Under, A Guest Post from Carol Hedges

Arrivederci Aviva!

A busy week at Hedges Towers. First edits of the Victorian novel, due to be published by Crooked Cat later this year, have arrived. It has been many years since I did an edit and Things Have Moved On Considerably. Farewell days of correcting a manuscript online from a paper copy covered in illegible red editorial pen. Hullo ''Track changes''. For those who are not in the writing game, ''Track changes'' is where your editor marks up the changes he/she thinks need to be looked at in one colour (red), and you click on accept. If you don't agree, you can refuse or add your own changes or comments in blue. All clear? Think I got the hang of it after the first 20 pages and once I'd stopped accepting my own changes. Anyway, it has gone back to my Crooked Cat editor. And there is now a title. Hopefully. Of which more anon.

Meanwhile the window has been fixed (see blog post: Bang Out Of Order). However Aviva, having informed us we'd have to pay the first £150 of any bill AND that they would up our premium on top of that, has now upped our premium by £130 to over £600. Even though we didn't claim on our insurance in the end. Unsatisfied customers? Tell me about it. BH was so furious that he actually went online and has come up with three quotes from other companies that would save us over £400.

We've been loyal Aviva customers for over thirty years. In fact, if you cut BH in half, you would find the word 'loyal' written right through him, like a stick of rock. Not any more. As he said: the quotes may be only introductory offers, but he's quite happy to introduce himself to someone else in a year's time. I've also sent a report of the Aviva fiasco to Paul Lewis at the BBC's excellent 'Money Box' programme. A couple of months ago, he did a feature on exactly this rip-off behaviour. Seems nothing has changed.

On top of all this, the time has rolled around again for the 2CV to fail its MOT. This is an annual event - I have never known any 2CV I've ever owned to pass first time, because every year, the DVLA ups the ante and raises the bar, and old cars like mine stand no chance. Two years ago it failed because the windscreen wipers ''didn't park flat''. They don't ''park flat'' on 2CVs, they never have, it's how they're made, but the test centre wouldn't believe me. Even after I provided them with a picture of a 2CV meeting with a long line up of cars, each with the wipers parked at an angle. I was told that they must have just stopped like that. All 50 of them?

In the end, Big Dave, who looks after the car, did something fiddly just to get it through. Goodness knows what the reason will be this time. Wheels not round enough. Engine needs stronger elastic band. Hamster needs replacing. Every year, we have the 'is it worth holding on to the car given the small local mileage that I do' debate. But I always end up keeping it, because even though it is probably the unsafest car on the road and owes much of its current existence to the miracle that is gaffer tape, nothing compares with bowling along the Lower Luton Road, roof rolled down, and Diana Ross blaring out of one speaker, then hitting a bump and for a brief while listening to Diana Ross in stereo. Magic. Vorsprung durch technik? Nein danke.

The PINK SOFA welcomes Val Poore

Barge dweller, author, blogger, supporter of other writers, kindness personified, caring and all-round totally nice person ... yes, I could only be talking about one special individual: Val Poore. Val lives on a boat on the Rotterdam canal and if you want to sample life afloat without actually being afloat, visit her blog and check out the pictures. The PINK SOFA is overjoyed that she has decided to place her feet upon terra firma for a while, as it is not keen on getting its upholstery wet. To celebrate her visit, there is strawberry cheesecake and freshly brewed dutch coffee on the coffee table. Val .... over to you!

''Yay! I've made it to the PINK SOFA! I must be doing something right. Thank you so much for inviting me, Carol. I must say it feels a lot more stable up here in Hedges Towers than it does on the barge. Ooh - and that strawberry cheesecake looks heavenly. How did you know it's my absolute favourite?

Anyway, to earn my slice, you want me to talk about my book background. Hmm..where to start? Like most of us who end up writing, I was an avid reader as a child. I was the youngest of four and with the older three away at school, I was a bit lonely, so books were my escape and companions. I loved nothing better than lying on my bed with our old cat Tiger for company and reading.

 I read everything on my parents' bookshelves - they never limited my reading, so I had everything from Elizabeth Goudge's Little White Horse and E. Nesbitt's The Railway Children to Dornford Yates' 1920's comedies and the historical novels of Georgette Heyer. Later I got interested in archaeology, so I read books about Roman history. I was a dreadful nerd. Well, we had no TV and my dad (bless him) only played the Third Programme on the radio, so what do you expect?

How did I end up on a barge in Holland? I got there by the scenic route! I lived for twenty years in South Africa before I found my way to Rotterdam, (f anyone's interested, I have written a book about it). I loved it there and would never have left had it not been for my now less than 'significant other' who seemed to be quite significant at the time. The whole barge thing got me hooked very quickly though. We didn't have much water to speak of in Africa (read my book; you know you want to) so I was amazed when I saw all these floating homes. It's a lot of work though, so writing has to take second place to painting. You have to be totally in love with paint to have an old barge like mine. Oh - I also managed to fall in love with a Dutch skipper too.

As I lost my job - I used to write copy and communications stuff for a company in Johannesburg, I had to get my writing fix by writing books. Writing is an addiction, and I've been hooked on it all my life, so it's impossible to break. The African memoir came first, then Watery Ways describing my first year on a barge. After that, a sort of YA novel about the waterways  - I call it kidult, called The Skipper's Child and now my latest offering .... drum roll....... 

How to Breed Sheep, Geese and English Eccentrics. It's a novel about a girl trying to do the self-sufficiency thing in the wilds of rural Dorset. It's got a very special and eccentric cast of characters that includes the girl's mother who drifts around in an old wedding dress half the time. There's lots about a flock of wilful sheep and some lunatic geese as well, but it's all good fun, especially when Maisie (the main character) has to cart her sheep around in the back of a VW Beetle. The background story is of course rooted in fact - somewhere. I've self-published this one through Lulu.com and Amazon Kindle simply because I wanted to. I've had two books published by Sunpenny Publishing, but I really liked the whole process of doing it myself this time.

Anyway, I think I'd better shut up now, or you'll be throwing me off the turrets here at Hedges Towers. Thanks a million for having me, Carol. Can I have my strawberry cheesecake now? I promise I won't spill any on the sofa ... oops ..what did I go and say that for?''

Before you send me off to get the cloth, here's the links to my writing and blogs etc:

Amazon Page: http://tinyurl.com/m9zcth5
Lulu.com: http://tinyurl.com/k4bltn4
Blog: www.wateryways.blogspot.com
Twitter: @vallypee

Val,thank you so much for visiting. The PINK SOFA is now humming: 'The Padstow Lifeboat' and contemplating the slap of the waves and the feel of the wind in its cushions. So while I nail its legs to the floor to stop it escaping yet again, and you enjoy a well-deserved chunk of cheesecake, I'll open things up to everyone. Questions? Comments? Go for it................

Bedside Books

As most of you probably know by now - and if you do not, where on earth have you been - I have just signed a publishing contract with small independent book publisher Crooked Cat. This is for the ubiquitous Victorian novel, now possibly re-titled and coming out, all being well, some time towards the end of the year.

It will be my 12th published novel (there are many many more unpublished ones festering in the ether drawer) and my first 'adult' one. Difficult to place it in a genre, but I have decided:
''Darkly comic Victorian crime thriller'' probably sums it up adequately. Am looking forward to some 'interesting' reviews. The history trolls will not like it .....

What has been fascinating is seeing the varied reactions to my news. The overwhelming response has been positive. Lots of lovely cyber-hugs and congratulations. Lots of tweets and complimentary comments. A few people have even hinted to Crooked Cat that they are lucky to sign me!! A statement they may well query as the months go by!!

However, there has been one sour note. A former contact (I maintain very few now) in the literary world has suggested that this is a retrograde step for a writer who has always been published by mainstream publishers, and that I would be better off biding my time and continuing to beat my bruised and bloodied (my analogy) fists on what is clearly now a very closed door (my interpretation).

A picture of the current 'To Be Read' pile on my bedside table provides an interesting commentary upon the suggestion. Top of the pile is 'The Redbreast' a novel by Jo Nesbo. I've only recently started reading his books. I enjoy the whole 'Nordic noir' genre and he is a bit of a find. Mainstream published. Widely stocked in most bookshops and hugely popular.

Second from the top is a book by Sarah England called 'Exposure'. I won this in an online competition, and it is signed by the author. Sarah, coincidentally, is published by Crooked Cat. Her novel, a funny read about the life of a hapless heroine called Sam Sweet, is out in ebook and book. The book is POD (Print On Demand), so only available through Amazon and other online outlets.

Middle of the pile is a non-fiction book. I always have a 'non-fiction' book on the go. Usually historical. As I'm possibly about to start writing 'DCVCT 2' I need to get back into the Victorian world. Apart from my own extensive collection of novels and books on this period, I have 4 books I borrow on a rotating and continuous loop from the library. Currently it's Judith Flanders' 'Victorian City'. Mainstream publisher again. Not widely stocked, as not a ''popular'' title.

Bottom of the pile --- and a bit of a ringer, as I have actually just read and reviewed it, is 'Flying Lessons' by Francis Potts. Francis' wryly amusing and very readable novels are entirely self-published, so only available online.

My point is that all of these books, published in a variety of different ways, have one common denominator: me. I don't really care what route the writers took to bring their work to market .... I just appreciate that their books are there for me to read and enjoy. They all end up on the same pile anyway. Or have I missed the point?

Bang Out Of Order!

A truly shocking week at Hedges Towers. Sometimes things occur that get you thinking about the Big Stuff in Life, like: Why are we here, or Where do all the teaspoons go? Or in this case: How lucky am I?

It happened last Friday. I'd just returned from wherever I'd been. Shopping was being unpacked, kettle filled when suddenly something hit the side of the house with an enormous bang. The cat freaked out and shot upstairs. I stuck my nose out of the kitchen door - we sometimes get birds flying into the patio glass as they don't seem to distinguish between glass (finite) and sky (infinite). There was an absence of dazed bird, so I shrugged and continued getting on with things

The second bang was so loud it was terrifying and unavoidable. Rushing into the living room I spotted a hole in the very thick double glass of the window. Cracks were running from it. As if someone had fired a bullet. First thought was: that's going to be bloody expensive. Second thought: what the.....?

Close examination of the patio revealed two large ball bearings, which had clearly been fired at the house from the cycle path over the back. Funny how in a crisis, one goes into total calm: I rang the police ... rang the insurance company ... rang Beloved Husband and Dear Daughter.

And then suddenly I found myself sitting on the sofa sobbing and shaking uncontrollably as I grasped the true enormity of what had occurred and realised that, had I been standing in the line of fire, given the speed and velocity and size of the ball bearing, my chances of living to see husband, daughter, son-in-law, pets and any possible future grandchildren would have been non-existent. Delayed shock.

At which point, DD rang. The problem with having offspring who spent several years living and working in a Middle Eastern country is that they take things like this seriously. Very Seriously. 'Close the curtains,' she said. 'You need to start being more aware when you go out,' she said. 'Keep checking behind you,' she said. 'You have made a lot of enemies with your campaign,' she said. 'Have you looked under your
car recently?' she said. Gulp.

By the time you read this, a week has passed. The police are still pursuing their investigations. The insurance company has refused to pay for the replacement window without upping our premium, leaving us with a bill of nearly £300. And I have discovered that the trouble with looking behind you is that there's always a ''behind you'' where you aren't looking. I'm still here though. For now.

magpie bridge: CAROL HEDGES: THE REAL DEAL

magpie bridge: CAROL HEDGES: THE REAL DEAL:     This week’s interviewee is a real gem. She makes me smile every time I see her witty and urbane tweets . Carol Hedges is an accompli...

The PINK SOFA welcomes Matt Adams,editor

Matt Adams editor, at his desk

Today, the PINK SOFA welcomes a different guest: Matt Adams is the editor of the Herts Advertiser, my local paper. He is the ''lucky'' recipient of all my letters and press releases about our community's attempt to stop Harpenden Town Council from forcing a road across our playing field and building on our ex-allotment. For anybody running a public campaign, maintaining a good and close relationship with the press is essential, and I am delighted to welcome Matt to the blog. The PINK SOFA has been practicing its shorthand for weeks, and is now poised, pencil licked and notebook open, ready to take down his answers.

So Matt, how long have you been editor of the paper?
I joined the paper in April 2009 as the lucky 13th editor.

What does an editor do all week?
Mondays to Wednesdays I'm focused on production, putting together that week's paper and working out what stories and photos will go where. The remainder of the week I operate in more of an ambassadorial role, representing the paper in the community, meeting with contacts and working on long-term objectives.

How did you get into journalism? 
When I arrived at university in 1990 I signed up with the student newspaper on the understanding that I would provide photographic cover at student union gigs. I got in for nothing and had a chance to snap leading groups up close and personal from the pit. But then something happened - I stumbled across what sounded like a good news story through chatting with people on my course, and the paper's news editor asked me to look into it as he had nobody free to do so.

That was it. I was bitten by the news bug. I loved the idea of being able to make a difference through my writing and before long was running for the position of editor in the union elections. That year was to prove invaluable when it came to being a journalist. I cut my teeth on structuring the content of a paper, worked with a small team on coming up with innovative new ideas and learned how to design a newspaper page.

At the time I left uni there was no obvious pathway into newspaper journalism -  no internet, no way of finding out about training within the profession. Then my mum spotted a job ad in one of our local papers, a free title with the unassuming name of the Yellow Advertiser looking for someone to join their features team. I started off writing advertorials, puff pieces about bathrooms, kitchen fitters etc. It was boring work but it pushed me into creating solid prose after interviewing less than forthcoming tradesmen and I began honing my skills as a reporter. I did my training there and at the Yorkshire Post in Leeds.

What do you like about working in the Herts Ad?
I am driven by the desire to have a positive impact in a community. Newspapers wield immense power and it is amazing what a simple phone call to the council or a corporate organisation can do to solve a resident's long-running problems. I would argue that local journalism is the most important journalism in the world. We break stories that really make a difference to people's lives; we can help change local policy and we are the perfect platform for everyday heroes to get the recognition they deserve. I also enjoy the fact that you never know what's going to happen from one day to the next - and there are few jobs which offer that variety.

The new premises. Cat swinging forbidden.

The Herts Ad has recently shifted its location. Good move?
We've been in our current offices in the centre of St Albans since March 2012 and it's been a revelation. Before we were stuck on an industrial estate on the outskirts of the city and it would take 20 minutes to get into town and park. Now we are at the heart of everything that happens in St Albans and can react immediately to breaking news developments. We were first on the scene for a snatch-and-grab robbery last year, we have seen celebrities shopping nearby, and we are accessible to the people who count: our readers.

So in this fast internet age, is there really a future for local papers?
Regional newspapers are more relevant to modern day readers than they ever have been. People spend more than half their time within a five-mile radius of their home. They want to know about their own community and what's happening around them - they don't care so much about what's going on five or forty miles away.

I think the regional press is leading the way when it comes to setting the national news agenda. Many of the major stories reported in the national media came from regional news sources, and local papers will often lead the way in reporting these issues through their unchallenged connections within local communities.

Ultimately local newspapers act as independent watchdogs holding government and other powerful institutions accountable and enabling citizens to participate fully in our democracy. This is an essential function, much like roads, power and water, and without us the community would be that much poorer.

Anything else you want to say about the job?

The Herts Advertiser not only publishes two editions every week (Harpenden and St Albans) but also has to maintain a strong web presence and achieve all this with just a handful of reporters. We can't cover every single news story in the district, there simply isn't the time or resources to do this, and so we prioritise those items which are of the most relevance to the widest percentage of our readership. We're a business, and in this day and age we have to also rely on the support of our advertisers to boost our sales.

Time off? What do you like doing to wind down?
I'm a self-professed geek, and love to immerse myself in graphic novels, sci-fi and fantasy. My biggest obsession is Dr Who, but I also enjoy a wide variety of genre material. Musical tastes are very eclectic although I'd highlight Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Luke Haines, David Bowie, Tori Amos, the Indigo Girls and Aimee Mann as particular favourites. However, I think my favourite means of relaxing has to be spending time with my beautiful 15 month old daughter Anwen. She truly is the light of my life and every minute with her is a precious joy.

Matt, thanks for stopping by and giving us some insights into your job and your philosophy. The PINK SOFA has now licked its pencil so much that it is in acute danger of lead-poisoning and may requite medical attention.
Matt is on Twitter at @Matthertsad. Stories from the Herts Advertiser can also be accessed via @Hertsad or via http://www.hertsad.co.uk/home/e-edition. Matt is rushing back to his sumptuous (!) city centre office - but he will be dropping by later to respond to any comments ...

Lost In Transit

A quietish week at Hedges Towers. The hurly-burly of the Town Green has subsided and it is now down to playing a waiting game. I have put certain structures in place in anticipation, and will appraise you of developments. Meanwhile on Sunday BH and I were invited to a lunch party at a couple's house we'd only been to once. Normally something to look forward to, and we do, once we've surmounted the Actually Getting There scenario, which we go through so often in our nearly 38 years together that it has now evolved into a script with its own rituals, worthy of a John Osborne play. It goes something like this: (we have been driving around for some time)

Me (eventually): You're lost, aren't you?

BH (edgily): No, I know exactly where we are.

Me: Well, so how come we aren't there by now then?

BH (testily): We're going in the right direction.

Me (because I've started): Why don't you LOOK at the map?

BH (pointedly): I HAVE looked at the map.

Me: Then why is this the second time we've driven down this road?

BH (thru' gritted teeth): Maybe YOU'D like to map read? Maybe YOU'D like to drive?

Me (crossly): Just check the map, okay? Because I don't think this is the right way.

Eventually we stop, the map is checked, the car is turned round, and we arrive at our destination. I think that this is another of those 'men are from Mars women are from Visa' things. If I need to go anywhere new, I have to do a pre-visit recce to make sure I know exactly where I'm going. And I still get anxious ....

Checking the diary, I see it is almost a year since @carolJhedges joined Twitter. I did so mainly because having uploaded Jigsaw Pieces and nearly died in the attempt, I needed to disseminate its presence and sell a few copies to make the whole ghastly experience worthwhile. Twitter has been getting a bad press recently due to the misogyny and racism that its anonymity seems to bring out in certain warped individuals, and I did do the Twitter silence on Sunday, after tweeting my support to the relevant individuals concerned.

My experience of Twitter has been positive though, despite having some very unusual followers: dogs, hotels, radio stations, pubs, lizards and last year, Lechlade Music Festival where one of BH's socks was apparently performing with The White Stripes. Don't ask. What makes Twitter such fun for me is encountering individuals with a sharp, razor-like wit. Foremost among these Twitwits, and now in the category of good friends are @LynnGerrard and @fruitbatwalton There seems to be nothing they can't render funny. Or bizarre. Or frequently both.

I also like Twitter when it turns into a free show: there is a group of American crime writers who meet up every lunchtime (1.00pm UK time) and just bounce chitchat off each other. Nothing special, but they have me in stitches ... check out @Charles_E_Wells. It's like watching an American sitcom, only on social media. I have also been struck by the very great kindness of other Twitter people. @Vallypee, a writer who lives on a barge in Rotterdam, @HapRochelle and @RosalindAdam to name but three. If I feel upset or worried, they are there with sympathy, virtual coffee and tissues, as are many many others. You know who you are. Space dictates that I can't name check all but you're probably reading this blog post right now.

Through Twitter I have learned how to grow veg, how to download images from the internet, and how to self-publish. There seems to be an expert out there for every occasion or eventuality. I've been recommended books I'd never have read before, and enjoyed some wonderful poetry. I've had access to brilliant blogs - catch @TerryTyler4's blogs on Twitter bios of famous past writers; I've come across recipes for luscious mouth-watering cakes and listened to some amazing bands.

And I'm absolutely sure that, in the extremely unlikely event that my 2CV were ever to break down on a lonely country road in the depths of Winter, while I was in the middle of labour, there would be people on Twitter only too willing and able to help. Wouldn't you .....

Next week the PINK SOFA welcomes a very special guest: Matt Adams, editor of The Herts Advertiser will be visiting the blog. What's it like to edit a local paper? And be pestered by activists like me? All will be revealed.