SEARCHING FOR AMANDA

I had an amazing dream last night where I was meeting all these media people in a surreal car-park full of racks of designer dresses! A man with blonde hair sped into the car park in a yellow Ferrari, stopped next to me and said. ‘You must speak with Amanda Davies.'

The next minute I was sitting in a cafe next to the blonde man and opposite a woman who wouldn’t tell me her name; she seemed important. Eventually she passed me a piece of paper full of  intricate swirling designs in the middle of which was a name: AMANDA DAVIES. ‘I can help you,’ she said. Just as I was about to ask  her ‘How?’ I found myself awake in my bed and wondering what this strange dream meant.

Where are you, Amanda?

A NIGHT FILLED WITH MUSIC

The competition to find the top choir in Kent last Saturday was incredible – singers of all ages sang songs ranging from religious, gospel, folk, show-stoppers to haunting love songs from countries like Africa, effervescent songs from Spain through to pure Georgian chants. It was a true celebration of music and will linger in my mind for ever. 

The winners from St. Edmund's School sang with a superb purity of sound and their singing was achingly beautiful. The audience sat in silence for a few moments after they sang, then everyone burst in loud applause.  

What a talented group of young people to listen to. It gives me hope for the future when the future will be populated by people capable of making so many people happy.

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE SNOW

When I woke up this morning the world had turned white. A flurry of snow swirled past my window and dusted the leaves on the trees. Just like a Christmas card I thought, but it is nearly April and here in the UK, we are still caught in winter.

Tonight I am singing in a competition in Canterbury and I’m wondering if I can drive my car to the venue.  Our choir practiced for hours last night; the night before the snow and it was joyous. One of the songs we are singing comes from Tanzania. We are singing it in Swahili and the words are beautiful in both the following languages.  

Malaika

Angel
Malaika, nakupenda Malaika.

Angel, I love you Angel.
Malaika, nakupenda Malaika.

 Angel, I love you Angel.
Nami nifanyeje, kijana mwenzio?

And I, your young lover, what can I do?
Nashindwa na mali sina, we,

Was I not defeated by the lack of fortune.
Ningekuoa Malaika.

I would marry you Angel.
Nashindwa na mali sina we,

Was I not defeated by the lack of fortune,

Malaika , Ningekuoa Malaika.

I would marry you Angel.

WRITING & TEA-LEAVES

There are many reasons why people become writers. In my case it was tea-leaves.  Very strange, but true. My Welsh grandmother used to read the tea-leaves for the entire neighbourhood when I was a child. I grew up thinking she was clairvoyant, until the bubble burst and I realized she was a weaver of wondrous tales. I too am a weaver of tales.  Writing is as important to me as breathing. 

As some of you know if you’ve been reading my blog, this year has been a thrilling one for me as my psychological thriller “THE DAY OF THE SWANS” has become a finalist in the People’s Book Prize.

I do hope you will read the book and tell me what you think of it. Writers need feed-back.

IDEAS FOR NOVELS

                                                                 A FATAL FACADE

 

The idea for my forth-coming crime thriller came from discovering that for hundreds of years the Catholic church allowed abandoned babies [ usually illegitimate ] to be left in a small wheel in a room in the walls of convents in Italy. The anonymous mother then rang a bell and the wheel was moved around so that the baby was brought inside the convent and was eventually adopted. Isn’t that amazing? What’s even more amazing is that this practice is still continuing today!