We had a great time last night - ventured out of Southwick - two miles away in the village of Boarhunt is the venue of the Boarhunt Blues Club.  A tiny village hall - home for the past ten years or so of the Blues Club.  Last night the band was OO-BOP-SH'BAM, who played an amazing selection of 1940s Lindy-Hop, blues, 1950s Rock 'n Roll.  I couldn't keep my eyes off the two incredible saxophonists - how does anyone play like that?  Also in the band were lead guitarist, keyboard player, double bass, drummer - whose wild playing split a drum-skin half way through the first set, and of course, the lead singer. Brilliant!
If you're interested in brilliant blues music of all types, the club meets once a month on the third Friday - you don't have to be a member, just check out their website at http://www.boarhuntblues.com.

Last night was the last full rehearsal before the Dress on Sunday.  As always it was a bit of a shambles: Not everyone was there for a start - but we carried on regardless and managed to rehearse most of the show.  I really do need to learn those songs properly!  Anyway - it should be a great show - typical of Southwick village - a Pantomime at the end of March!

After the rehearsal we went into the local pub - The Golden Lion - for a drink to unwind.  The place was pretty busy even though it was after ten o'clock, some diners still finishing their meals as well as several drinkers in the main bar.  The strangest things happen in Southwick - one of the diners requested that one of their party should be able to sing a song at the end of their meal.  The Landlady shrugged her shoulders and said, 'Why not?'  (They do have a music licence).  It was quite surprising though when the woman drew from her handbag a wad of sheet-music and then proceeded to sing Opera!  Now, we are used to Jazz, acoustic guitar and such, Blues and Rock and Roll in The Goldie, but I think this was a first!  She sang well although I am no judge of Opera and she was rewarded with a round of applause and much cheering.

I feel privileged to live opposite The Golden Lion - steeped with history - it is the famous pub which was frequented by Churchill and Eisenhower during the second world war whilst they were planning D-Day.  Southwick is dubbed 'The D-Day Village' by many and we are quite used to Veterans travelling from the US to visit.  Southwick House was originally the home of the owner of the estate.  It was taken over during the war by the Admiralty - and was never given back.  It was HMS Dryad for many years until they left a few years ago, leaving the place empty.  Now it's been taken over by the Tri-Services and has been renamed Southwick Park.  Visitors can still see the Map Room where D-Day landings were planned.
Most of the houses in the village are owned by the Estate.  We call the owner 'Squire' although I don't believe he has a title as such.  We often see Mr. Thistlethwaite around the village.  This place is famous locally for the red doors.  Whenever I tell people I live in Southwick, that's usually the first thing they ask -'Do you have a red front door?'  They find it highly amusing.
It's a great place to live if you don't mind everyone knowing your business.  It helps to enjoy a bit of gossip - and we all look out for each other when the chips are down - usually.

I have been working on the new novel this morning.  Thought you'd like to read a snippet of it.

Kevin

A new member of staff started this week.  Her name’s Gem - I remember her hanging around in the shop last week.  I thought she was interested in bric-a-brac at first, then when she dropped the china rabbit I realised she was just a time-waster - probably in the shop to get out of the rain.  I was quite surprised when she had the gall to ask Catherine for a job.  I’m not sure whether I’m going to get on with her - she looks a bit like a druggie - got that seediness about her.  Catherine doesn’t seem to see it though.

Gem was in here yesterday and she’s due back in this afternoon.  Catherine says I have to try and get on with her - help to show her the ropes.  I’m not sure about how this will effect our little team.  New people are always difficult aren’t they?  I think it’ll be alright if she stays in the back room sorting stock - but then again - can she be trusted not to take the best things and hide them in her bag?  I’ll have to keep a close eye on her, won’t I?

I've set this one in a charity shop - am still working on devising characters and exploring how they interact with each other.  Each chapter is from or about a different character's point of view.  I have a vague plot in my head but am allowing the characters to form the story so don't know for sure where it's going yet.

You'll all be pleased to hear that the Electricity men are at this moment re-filling the hole in the village, sweeping the mud up and preparing to take away all the green fences that they put up to stop us locals from getting too close and peering into the hole.  This will be a relief to us all and we'll be able to enjoy peace once again, especially those who come over to Southwick for a nice bite of lunch in the village pub.
It will also mean that the idiots who drive through the village at ridiculous speeds without having to slow down to get past the hole will be able to put their foot down on the accelerator once more thus causing us to risk life and limb trying to cross the street.

As my home is directly opposite the Golden Lion, this will of course mean that I can sit in my garden again without the sound of diggers and dumpers rambling past and watch the diners in peace.

Last night's performance of Private Lives was pretty good.  I only say pretty good as it was the first night and there were quite a few small hitches - ie. the lighting could have been better, and some of the cast skipped a few lines apparently, although if you didn't know the script - which I didn't very well - it was hardly noticeable.  The audience loved it though and there were many complementary utterances as people came to the bar at the interval and after the show.  It's certainly worth coming along to watch if you like Noel Coward.  And if you don't, or think it's dated, come along anyway as it really is very funny.

Titchfield Festival Theatre is in St. Margaret's Lane, Titchfield, Hampshire.  There is a web site which is worth a look at with many wonderful photographs of past productions and information of all the forthcoming shows.  I have the dubious honour of being in charge of the costume department which means I spend a few hours a week mucking about in the makeshift room which is filled with lovely clothes.  When I was watching the show last night I couldn't help repeating to my daughter every time one of the cast came on in a new outfit - 'That was one of my costumes', or 'I sorted that one out'.  They did all look amazing.  Some of the outfits were hired from Chichester Festival Theatre which is only about 30 minutes drive away so I can't take all the credit and anyway I don't really do anything other than dig out several items from the store, put them on a rail and let the cast chose from the selection.

Have spent the morning taking up trousers at the theatre ready for tonight's performance of Private Lives.  Such an exciting life I lead!
I must say I'm looking forward to doing front of house tonight - a chance to see the first night - to watch the cast trying hard to remember their lines.

For those of you following my novel Caught in the Web - here is chapter five:

Chapter Five

Evelyn couldn't tell you how many years she'd been lying in this bed, with the changing seasons showing through the same old window frame.  The summer sun too hot, the winter chill too cold, seeping through the gaps in the frame where the window never quite closed properly.  The curtains were thin, letting in more than enough light and more than enough drafts.  Nothing ever took the middle way in this place.

The ache somewhere in her chest was still there although the memories of why and what, where and when were muddled in her mind.  She couldn't remember what it was that she'd done to be kept here for all this time, or even if she had been here for very long at all.  What had happened to all the people who were important to her?  She'd long ago stopped asking.

Every day was the same, waking early to the noises of the other ladies' protests.  The repetition of life had brought on a numbness which started at the front of her head and spread throughout her whole being, making her unaware most of the time of what she was doing, eating, wearing, even thinking. 

Evelyn didn't talk much any more.  She'd talked too much once and that was probably her downfall.  So she'd stopped.  Dumbfounded they'd called her at first, then “Idiot” but none of them knew her really.

Her mother had visited her in the early days. 

‘Come on Evelyn.’  The nurse had brought her a dress from somewhere.  Not the usual clothes she wore which were of worn and faded cotton.  ‘Let’s get you dressed.  It’s visiting day.’

And she’d been walked down the cold corridor to the entertainment hall.  The vast high ceilinged ballroom was set with trestle tables.  There were already patients sitting at some of the tables, their visitors awkwardly leaning on their elbows across the tables, looks of concern on their faces.

As the nurse steered her towards the hunched woman sitting alone at the table half way down the room, Evelyn felt a deep fear.  Her mother stood up as she reached the table.  She felt herself stiffen inside as her mother embraced her.  They sat down at the table, the nurse standing guard at one end.

‘How are you keeping?’  Evelyn’s mother asked.

But Evelyn couldn’t find any words.  She looked down at the table and picked at the broken corner of the surface.  Her mother prattled on about something - gossip about the neighbours - the weather - she couldn’t remember.

Awkward Sunday afternoons filled with pain.  Then gradually the periods between each visit grew longer and longer until the time came when Evelyn realised that a year must have passed since the last visit.  It was on her birthday.  The daffodils were yellow in the garden outside the window, so she knew that her birthday must have passed.

Evelyn wondered if her mother had been coming and she'd just forgotten.  She couldn't ask anyone as that would mean breaking out of the safety of her silence.  

They'd tried to get her moving out of the ward once.

'You need to be rehabilitated.'  A different nurse this time.

She'd just stared, a feeling of apprehension pushing its way into her mind.

'You've been here too long,' the nurse continued.  'You're institutionalised.'

Evelyn wondered what that meant.

In the small room at the top of a flight of stairs several women from the ward were sitting around a table knitting brightly coloured wools into ill-shaped squares.   She’d sat watching them whilst the nurse cast on the stitches and then handed the knitting to her to continue working with.

'There you are, Evelyn.  Nice pink wool,' said the nurse.  'You can knit, can't you?'

Evelyn said nothing.

'It's just squares,' the nurse said.  'Garter stitch.  You know, just plain knitting?'

Perhaps it was the colour of the wool, or maybe the sound of the clicking of the needles as the other women worked.  Evelyn couldn't really remember what happened.  She only felt a raging anger erupting from somewhere deep inside her head which clashed with the pain in her chest, before she heard a loud screaming and felt herself being forced down into a black pit by the three nurses who had jumped on her.

When Evelyn woke up again it was early morning.  She could see the sun rising between the boiler-house chimney and the water tower through her window.  Her arms were sore and bruised.  She could feel a hard painful lump on her right buttock.  She was naked under the sheet which barely covered her.

Two nurses came into the room.  One carried her clothes, the other wheeled a commode.

'Get up, Evelyn.'  They dragged the sheet briskly back, lifted her out of bed and sat her on the commode with a thump.  She was too drowsy to protest as she sat there naked, not bothering to hold on to her dignity. 

'Come on, pee!' said the nurse.  Evelyn found herself letting go.  The relief to be emptying her bladder overwhelmed the shame of her situation.

The nurses dressed her as they chatted.

'Are you playing in the darts team tonight?' one asked.

'Yeah,' the other replied.  'We're playing The Miners Arms, aren't we?'

'Are you getting the bus?'  

'The seven o'clock,' she replied.  'Evelyn get your arm in here,' she went on, dragging a dress over Evelyn's head.

'I hope they do a good spread,' the other nurse said as she pulled Evelyn's stockings over her feet.  

Once dressed, they swung her back on to the bed and left the room, the metal commode rattling over the uneven floor as they went.  Without even giving a glance back at her, the nurse swung the door shut and Evelyn heard the key turning in the lock once more.

She sat for a moment, then got up and looked through the small window into the ward.  The other women were walking about, following their own patterns of survival.  She sat back down and waited for her breakfast.  

'Lock me up forever,' she thought.  'I don't care.  It's safe in here.'  

Eventually she heard the door opening again.

'Well, Evelyn.'  The charge nurse entered the room.  'Are you feeling better now?'

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that he had someone with him.  The ward doctor standing with his back to the window.  Evelyn looked at his silhouette and fleetingly wondered what his face was revealing.

'Now Evelyn,' he said.  'We can't have this type of thing going on in our little O.T. Department can we?  Such behaviour won’t get you anywhere.'

Evelyn said nothing.

'I thought I could trust you,' he went on.  'Can you explain yourself?'

Of course she couldn't explain herself.  Evelyn looked at the clouds behind his head, scudding across the sky.

'I don't know what came over you, Evelyn,' said the charge nurse.  'One minute you were happily sitting with the other ladies, and then without warning, you attacked nurse Smith with a knitting needle.  Lucky for her they managed to pull you off before you hurt her.  What was that all about?'

Pink wool and babies' booties.  Evelyn was silent, the only thing in her head - pink wool and babies' booties.

They didn't take her back to Occupation Therapy the next day.

She stayed on her bed chasing the memories out of her dreams, staring at the clouds, wondering where they were going and trying not to think.  When she closed her eyes she could see the pink wool winding around her body like a giant spider's web, encasing her in a trap that she could never escape from.  So she kept her eyes open, staring at the sky and hoping that it would all go away again.

Eventually it did fade into the past and now Evelyn was safe and comfortable in her world.  Nothing ever happened apart from the occasional outburst from the other women.

She’d stopped wondering if her mother would ever come to visit again, content to forget what life had been like before coming to this place.  Other patients went out on trips, but Evelyn preferred to stay in the safety of her room.  

'Just in case,' she thought. 

She was unaware of time moving on.  She never looked in the mirror so had no idea of how she was growing older.  In her heart she was still the bewildered young woman she had been when she arrived here so long ago.

But now her world was changing.  She'd been lying in her bed when the new nurse had spoke to her.  She didn't understand the feeling of shock and fear that she'd felt when the nurse had touched her.  She only knew that she had to stay away from her.

And don't forget you can read the whole novel on Kindle for just £1.69 - or $2.99 US.

So the men from the Electricity Company came along again today and loaded up all the earth they'd dug up and took it away in a very big lorry.  I hope the Squire knows that part of his village has disappeared!  There's a big hole in the street now......

After a busy weekend - spending time with the family - breakfast in the Post Office Tea Rooms yesterday morning followed by the afternoon watching Woman in Black at the cinema - apparently we were the loudest family in the place! - I have finally finished re-editing Caught in the Web paperback version.  Have sent off for another proof copy before it's available to buy on the web.

More excitement this morning - men turned up to dig up the drive so that they could lay a cable for electricity into the village - now this may not seem so exciting except for the fact that they were reading the plans wrong and the trench was supposed to have gone through next door's drive, not ours.  Luckily I noticed before they started unloading the diggers.  So - it's been a bit noisy here today.  The cat has been fascinated and has spent hours just sitting watching them.  You'd think she'd be frightened of the noise, but no - weird cat! She sat as close to the fence as possible - I could hardly coax her to come indoors.

Now I suppose I should get on with writing the next novel.  About 4,500 words so far, so I've a long way to go yet.