As those of you who follow my newsletter know, the last couple of weeks have been a real nightmare here at Lester Towers.
Littlest had an accident at school and broke her nose, which has caused all the fuss you’d expect, plus worry that she’d have to have it re-broken and re-set to ensure it’s still possible to naso-gastric tube her in the future if necessary. This has, thankfully, turned out not to be the case, but it’s taken ages for ENT to decide. I’ve had a visit to hospital for a minor procedure which was more tedious than worrying, Talking Child has been stressed about school and her sister and me. And finally Mr AL has put his back out lifting Littlest, which has caused our whole family raft to list alarmingly to one side.
So, we’re struggling, basically. Writing itself and my somewhat intermittent early morning writing sprints with my Office Colleagues, Ofelia Grand, Nell Iris and J. M. Snyder have been what’s keeping me going.
The cherry on the top of the disaster-Bakewell tart however, has been that my dear friend and editor has been hospitalised with covid. She is home and recovering now, which is an enormous relief, but as everyone knows, it’s a long haul.
The result of all this non-writing stress is that we are pushing the release of The Fog of War back until 16th August. I’m very sorry about it, but there it is, people are more important than stories when it comes down to it. The Starling story (which still doesn’t have a name, this is clearly my brand) is puttering along but again it’s all a bit up in the air.
School breaks up for summer in the last week of July, so I have no idea what my writing schedule will be over the weeks after that–last year I did quite well getting up before everyone else and getting on with it. The plan is to release the Sylvia trilogy three months apart, and I’m still hoping that will work, although I’m starting to wonder whether I’ve over-faced myself. Time will tell!
Anyway, that’s it. We’re all okay, but it’s been a tough few weeks. I hope you’re all doing all right too in these uncertain times.
This was first published in Romance Matters, the magazine for members of the (UK) Romantic Novelist’s Association, Autumn 2020. It was intended as a very brief guide to introduce writers to the subject, but I think it also stands as a good introduction to people wanting to understand more about the gender spectrum, regardless of whether they’re writers or not.
Non-binary, genderfluid, genderqueer, agender and bigender are all descriptions of the fuzzy middle of the gender spectrum and people who sit there may choose any of those labels.
The main thing to remember about all types of gender diversity (transgenderness) is that it is about how you feel inside, not about how you present to the outside world.
I generally present as a short, round, grumpy middle-aged lady with purple hair, however I am feeling. This is probably because I only worked out what was going on for me in my mid-forties and I’m used to bottling it all up. Other people feel more comfortable presenting as masculine one day and feminine another. Some people present as androgynous all the time. It’s about where you need to be for mental comfort, not a fashion choice.
Good Allyship
There are no standard pronouns to use for non-binary people. As a good ally, what matters is using the pronoun people ask you to and not making them feel excluded by using gendered language. Some non-binary or gender neutral people like to be called he or she. Some prefer they. Some use zie or xe or per. A few people use ‘it’ and lots of people find ‘it’ offensive. Apart from that, the other way to make gender diverse people feel less uncomfortable is to try to use non-gendered language. ‘Children’ instead of boys and girls. ‘Parent’ rather than mother or father. ‘People’ or ‘folks’ rather than ‘ladies and gentlemen’.
Writing
Obviously then, given all the fuzziness, there are no absolutes for fictional characters. I’ve written three books now with non-binary protagonists. In first one (Shadows on the Border) I experimented with all the pronouns under the rainbow and in the end I changed pronoun depending on POV. Some characters saw my MC as male, some as female and some as neutral. The character sees themselves as ‘they’ and uses ‘they’ for everyone, because they come from a gender-neutral culture. My 1780s historical romance with a non-binary character (The Flowers of Time) was more difficult. Although my character is born female, she definitely feels herself to be gender-neutral. I decided in the end to work within the historical framework and stick to she and he pronouns.
If you create your character and you aren’t sure you’ve got it right, think about finding a sensitivity reader to give you some feedback.
Finally…please ask if you are unsure what pronouns to use for someone. Very few people will mind a good-faith question!
I’ve been meaning to write about my hydroponics bed for ages and haven’t got round to it. I started it in the winter and made a whole big deal about being able to grow my ‘Brexit lettuces’ because of the uncertainty about fresh food prices after the UK crashed out of the EU trade networks. It’s working pretty well now, so here’s a summary of what I did. It cost about £100 to set up.
Wrapped up for night with heat pad underneath and polythene over the top. You can see the reservoir, the red bin, bottom right.
I took a plastic under-bed storage box that’s about eight inches deep.
I fitted ebb-and-flow fittings in two of the corners—an in and an out. They’re also sold as flood-and-drain fittings. I paid about £12.
I repurposed an old waste bin as my water reservoir. You need something that will hold more water than your under-bed storage box and if you can rig up a lid that’s good because it stops evaporation. It needs to be positioned lower than your grow bed.
I bought a small air pump and a small aquarium pump for about £10 each. These both go in your water reservoir. The air pump stops the water going horrible.
And I got a cheap LED grow-light for about £40.
I filled the storage box with clay pebbles to about an inch from the top. Don’t do this until you’ve got it in situ because of the weight. Wash them first because they’re dusty and that clagged up my little pump.
I bought four-inch mesh pots and some flat trays. The mesh pots I use for tomatoes etc and the flat trays for green leaves. I use coir in the flat trays and a grow-sponge surrounded by coir in the pots. The flat trays are only half an inch deep and aren’t ideal. I need something longer and deeper and narrower to fit my set-up, but haven’t got round to making anything yet—I’m thinking that old plastic milk cartons with lots of holes punched in them might work. You need it to be net-like so the roots can work their way out. The pots work fine, I start them in the bed and then when the plants get tall I move them into large individual jars on the floor. This needs changing regularly because it goes green.
I use Formulex liquid, on a 1:10 ratio. So my set-up takes 20 litres and I put in 200ml of liquid and change it every two or three weeks. It costs £12 per litre.
I set the pump on a timer. Over the winter I had it going for fifteen minutes four times a day. Now it’s got warmer, I have it going for a extra two slots during the daytime.
The light I initially had on for twelve hours a day. BUT I didn’t get very good growth and so I kept it on permanently and the lettuce seemed to really like that. Now we have more than 12 hours daylight, I’ve turned it off completely.
Lettuce! Yay!
I also used an old vivarium heat pad during the coldest months—the set up is in my conservatory which gets pretty cold in the small hours. I slid that under the box, on top of the wooden surface and it kept the heat of the clay balls up sufficiently that the water flowing in was warmed and wasn’t a shock to the roots. If you have it in the house where it’s doesn’t get too cold at night, you won’t need that.
Tomatoes in cut-down pop bottles. Too unstable, I moved to big glass jars.
I read up a lot on EC levels—the mineral and nutrient content in the nutrient mix. Different plants need different kinds. It baffled me, quite frankly—I include links below so you can be baffled yourself. By random luck I seem to have hit on something that lettuce and tomatoes love, so I just change the solution every two or three weeks and it seems to be working.
Conclusions
I think this is one of those things that it’s quite easy to set up in a rough-and ready sort of way, which is my modus operandi, quite frankly. And harder to do precisely, which I have no interest in at all. My aim was to have fresh salad for the family that would survive even if I had three days unable to get out of bed and no-one else remembered to water it; and to avoid having half-liquid bags of leaves in the bottom of the fridge. I have achieved this.
The initial set-up cost was a bit eye-watering, largely because of the cost of the light. The ongoing cost is obviously the electric for the pumps/light and the Formulex, which costs about £5 per month, less if I change the solution every three weeks rather than two. You can make your own, but for me the cost offsets the faffing around.
Salad is £2 a bag and we buy a bag or more a week. So I’m £5 in hand a month and it will take two years to pay for the kit, ish. I’m happy with that—it wasn’t meant to be a cheap solution. I feel that I’m balancing my desire to have a proper permaculture garden and feed us all from scratch with what I can manage by myself with my physical and temporal limitations!
What I’d do differently
I’d probably not have such a deep container. For cut-and-come again and baby leaves, the eight inches isn’t necessary. Five would probably do, which would mean you could cut down on the clay pebbles needed, and therefore the amount of solution and the amount of nutrient.
I’m genuinely struggling to know what to post about this week. I’ve got all sorts of things going on–Littlest had another COVID scare in the week and had to go in to the Children’s Ward to be tested and my Mama had her radiotherapy orientation yesterday and has her fortnight’s treatments scheduled to start in a week’s time and both kids have needed bloods taken and we’ve all had flu-jabs.
Then…Morris got out whilst Mr AL was taking Littlest in to the ward on Wednesday and when I went to collect him up, he wouldn’t be collected (because badger setts are more interesting than people, doh) and I ended up having a mahoosive seizure in the middle of a ploughed field a quarter mile away from home, in the dark, in the rain. Without my locator-watch gadget, which meant that poor Talking Child, the passing Lovely Jogger, my sister and my friend–both of whom I managed to call in a garbled fashion before I went full-on kipper–spent quite a while searching for me. I’d just got out of the bath and was in my nightie and house-trousers and unsuitable shoes, and I’d semi-fallen in to the ditch whilst trying to jump from one field to another.
I felt pretty grim on Thursday–I get a sort of hang-over after the siezures–and that was made even worse by feeling so useless with everything else that is going on. Mr AL will be driving my Mama the ninety minutes up and down to the hospital, with my sister. It’s more comfortable and less tiring for Ma to travel in her powered wheelchair in our vehicle rather than transfer in and out of my sister’s and take a folding chair. I can’t participate in any of that, because I can’t drive any longer and no-one wants me to ride along only to have a fit in the middle of Mama’s appointment.
In addition, it’s not really safe for Littlest and I to be on our own without supervision. She’s a choking risk and I’m a fitting risk and if those two things happen simultaneously, well, that’s not ideal for her. This has been the case for quite a while and we work round it, making sure we always have oversight.
But after Wednesday, my nearest and dearest are having a conniption fit about me being alone at all.
Littlest, when she was in hospital for something-or-other earlier in the year. Honestly, we lose track.
I’m really, really pissed off about it. I relish my time alone and need it to recharge. Being stuck with a carer in the house is horrible, however much I like them personally. It’s not that I want to hoover naked or turn cartwheels in my underwear; but that possibility doesn’t exist at all if you have someone else in the house. And if they are pottering around unloading the dishwasher and changing the beds…both of which I am massively grateful that they help with…I feel guilt-wracked sitting on the sofa watching them and not helping.
In addition to all that, we have lost our usual support from the Children’s Hospice. Because of bloody COVID, they have had to change the way they look after their families. Usually we all go for three or four nights every three or four months, Littlest gets twenty-four hour care and we get looked after too. There are people to talk to and discuss different care approaches, there are comfy sofas and a nice garden and lovely food and we have a real rest. Now though, they are only open for end of life care for children (both COVID and other ‘normal’ conditions) and emergency stays for children when families are on their knees. Littlest went in the summer when we were doing really badly and she didn’t enjoy it as much as she usually does–it was all a bit different, the main parts of the house were shut off, she couldn’t interact with everyone like she usually does and of course all the carers were in scary PPE. They have us on the emergency list again, but it’s not the regular respite that we have been relying on.
Plus I’m bricking it because although we’re in a relatively low-incidence area COVID-wise, it’s on the rise everywhere and if we get locked down again we will have to cut back on some of the carers we have coming in to the house, just to keep everyone safe. That will mean we get progressively more exhausted–Littlest needs help in the nights. And there’s the risk to Littlest on top of her general respiratory fragility. And the risk to my Mama, with the lung cancer.
My mental health is for shite, basically, and not really because I’m becoming extra-depressed, but because there’s so much going on.
I’m trying to crack on with the rewrite of The Hunted and the Hind, but I’ve stalled a bit. All I want is to be in an alternate fantasy world, to be honest. Somewhere I have control over, unlike here. But I’m not sure that makes for good writing.
That’s it. That’s the blog post. Tomorrow is another day, we’ll laugh about this later etc..
You can use shortcrust or puff pastry. We use shortcrust because it’s easy to make, especially since I prefer things to be gluten-free:
8oz plain flour
2 oz butter
2 oz lard (or vegetable shortening)
pinch of salt
splash of cold water
Put the flour in to a bowl and chuck in the lard and butter, cut in to lumps. Take the knife and keep cutting the fat, so that it gets covered in the flour. Then rub it in gently with your fingertips, lifting it up out of the bowl and letting it fall back in, to get air in it. When you have a bowl full of crumbs, add a table spoon full of cold water and use the knife to mix again, to start it sticking together. Eventually, you’ll need to use your fingers again. Don’t make it too wet, but if you do, you can add a bit more flour.
Stick it in the fridge for half an hour and have a glass of wine whilst you grease the muffin tin and wait for the oven to heat up to 220c/gas mark 7.
Step 3
Compile your pies
Roll the pastry out on a floured surface. Use a pint glass to cut circles and put them in your muffin tin, pressing them down.
Put a tea-spoon or two of mincemeat in each of the 12 little pies.
Use a smaller glass to cut a smaller lid for your pies. Or a cookie-cutter in a star or similar. Or you can make lattice strips for the tops. Or stack a little a pile of almonds on the top of each one. Or a couple of slices of apple.
Arrange your lids on top of your mincemeat. Glaze with milk and sprinkle with sugar.
Cook for about 15/20 minutes.
DO NOT EAT IMMEDIATELY AS THE MINCEMEAT WILL BE THERMONUCLEAR IN TEMPERATURE AND BURN YOUR TONGUE.
We sometimes eat these with no topping, sometimes with cream and sometimes with custard. Custard is a whole different can of British Worms that I will address on another day.
