Just how grim can it get up north? (Actually, it's quite nice.) One woman's not-so-lonely journey into the Northern heartlands.
Monday, June 23, 2008
In between the whole book thing, I have been making cakes. That is to say, I helped to make a parsnip, lime and ginger cake. I do not do a lot of baking - well, I can manage buns and once tried a Victoria sponge. (Then there were the choux fingers, but I try not to talk about the choux fingers.) I realise that many other women up here bake a lot. It is not that I do not want to bake - I do. The Aga sits there burning up the environment; I only wish I was the sort of woman who could "throw something together". But I am not. I buy my cake. Friends of a friend had me round to show me what to do - hence the parsnip cake. Since I do not bake, I did not feel I could point out the fact that maybe parsnip was not what you usually put in a cake, especially since their alternative recipes were for chocolate and beetroot, and sweet potato, coconut and honey. I was glad I didn't put them right, because actually they taste rather yummy. They certainly leave a better aftertaste than the kind offer I had yesterday from Take a Break to run the piece that appeared in The Sunday Times. The message was passed on from my publishers through my agent, offering £500 for an 800-word extract from the book - the thing is, they would like a photograph of me holding my stillborn son. Apparently, the journalist who made the offer is happy to ask me for it herself.
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I really enjoyed the Sunday Times piece, but that Take a Break offer is just sick...
Your writing is beautiful- you've made me cry again. Try not to wallop the crass journalist should you meet- but know that we will cheer if you do!
ouch. i'd tell the journalist to go ahead, make that offer, and tell her exactly why she can't have it.
The Sunday Times piece is just beautiful. Wonderful wonderful writing. How anyone could read that and ask you something so vile is absolutely inconceivable.
If you ever need a homemade cake on a bad day, I am your woman. I'll DHL it from Belgium if you need me to, just as a thank you for your fabulous writing.
Please tell me you are joking. Please.
Sometimes I think that the behaviour of some of our species can't get any worse, then I hear/read something that has me holding my hands in despair. No moral compass.
Let the bears have her...
How sad that people would want to see such a picture.
Sometimes though they do cut you up, sew you back (Our mistake they say later- but never sorry) and send you out again. But not whole. And the physical reminders don't help.
I'm speechless. And outraged.
Is the journalist serious? Is she human?
Can give you a great recipe for mini-cakes (was going to say cup-cakes, but that sounds so American), that you can do in 15 minutes, all you need is a food processor. They're brilliant, I haven't failed yet on them!
As for the journalist... seriously? How could they be so crass? How do they sleep at night?
I'm horrified but not suprised by the Take a Break 'offer'. Glance at the cover and you'll see their idea of a 'break' is reading stories like: 'My ex husband raped me and hit me over the head with an anvil, but now we're re-marrying!'
Take a Break is like a particularly virulent strain of Daily Mail, full of fear and loathing. Take a deep breath. I'm sure the book will do incredibly well.
Bloody hell. What a crass cow that journalist must be.
Please can I have their address, the cake people, obviously, not the journalist.chocolate and beetroot sounds delicious, mimi
You've inspired me to bake some cakes!
The journalist has no soul and just writing about is is making me want to drive to her place of work and punch her in the chops.
god. beyond repulsive.
Just read both the DT piece and the ST article. I think you were extremely brave to write about your first son. Enjoy your success...you deserve it and you write like a dream! Best wishes. Hadriana
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