Category: Blog

I had a nice surprise last week. Radio 4 Extra have been mining their archives. They invited listeners to nominate programmes which deserved another airing. The 1999 dramatisation of K.M.Peyton’s Flambards was chosen. That unforgettable story meant a lot to me when I was growing up.

Down Memory Lane

An Unforgettable Story

Today, Flambards would be categorised as Young Adult fiction. I found it in our school library, but as fox hunting was banned in England and Wales in 2004 I doubt it will be in many school libraries these days. That’s a shame. K.M Peyton captured the problems of coming of age and first love so well. What Oscar Wilde called the unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable is an inescapable part of the story, but it was a part of English culture in those days and shows how brutal life in the country could be.

It’s been a long time since I last read Flambards, but the radio drama seemed to stick very closely to the story as I remember it. Have a listen, and tell me what you think.

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I’ve been trying to do that for the past eight weeks, after breaking my right wrist (I’m right handed). Sadly my temperament is more Grimaldi than Voltaire, so to sing in this lifeboat was often harder than learning to do things with my left hand.

Harder – but not impossible. These weeks in plaster and now a splint have taught me a lot.

There’s Always Somebody Worse off…

John Wesley Powell (1834-1902) was an American geologist, explorer, university professor and director of cultural and scientific institutions. Yet he achieved most of that after losing his right arm at the Battle of Shiloh, during the American Civil War. The damaged nerves which remained left him in constant pain for the rest of his life. You can find out more about John Wesley Powell here.

‘All I have to do is stick this out for a few months while mooching around the house and garden,’ I thought, and tried to pull up my big girl pants (using only my left hand).

You Never Know What You Can Do Until You Try

I used to think living the life of a queen would be wonderful. Nothing to do except direct things from the sidelines, while having dressers, chauffeurs, and chefs on hand all hours of the day and night.

The last eight weeks have taught me that I am not cut out to be a monarch. Standing around waiting for somebody else to do up the zips of my waterproofs or tie my laces tight enough for me to use the treadmill safely drove me mad within a few days. Not being able to jump in the car and roar off to the farm shop or garden centre whenever I liked was even worse. Luckily my husband and son took on the cooking. They’ve been doing a brilliant job.

As for my zips, now my fingers have regained feeling and some mobility I can usually pull them up myself. My trainer troubles are solved by taking both laces in my left hand and pulling them very tight before tying a double bow.

My second problem involves opening cans of tinned fish one-handed. Mackerel have ring pulls, so I can prise those open enough to winkle out the contents. Tins of pilchards and salmon don’t have any easy way in. As we don’t have an electric can-opener, OH has to open those!

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There’s an extract of my latest book, Royal Passion, here, and to buy Royal Passion, click here.