I used to live in London, where I worked in the theatre. Then I got the bizarre job of teaching road safety to the U.S. navy – in Marble Arch!
A few years ago, I did an ‘Escape to the Country’. I now live in a tiny Herefordshire village, where I scandalise the neighbours by not keeping ‘country hours’ and being unable to make a decent pot of plum jam. Home is a converted oast house, which I share with my two beloved spaniels, husband (also beloved) and a ghost called Zoe.
I am addicted to Belgian chocolate, Jane Austen and, most of all, Strictly Come Dancing.
And her book...
Say it with Sequins: The Waltz
Who Dares Dances is a reality TV show with a difference. Not only do the contestants have to learn to dance, they also face a series of bizarre tasks.
Best-selling children’s writer, Lucy Everett, signs up as a personal challenge – can she battle her phobias and dance in front of millions of viewers?
When she meets fellow competitor, the seriously sexy but reserved Olympic swimmer Max Parry, she finds in him her very own Prince Charming.
But Max seems content to just be friends. Will Lucy ever get her longed for fairy tale ending?
Find out by waltzing into this dreamily romantic second novella in the Say it with Sequins series.
You can buy Georgia's book here:
And now for Georgia's shoes...
And their story...
(Not So) Pretty Feet
When Jane asked if I'd like to guest blog I was delighted and then horrified. For once in my life I couldn't think what to write. And I'm not usually short of things to say, especially when talking about myself.
The reason? Shoes!
For me shoes are just well, things I put on my feet to keep them dry and warm. Not very girly, I know.
I’m ambivalent about my feet. I like that they are long and narrow but dislike my 4 inch big toes which mean I take at least a UK size 7 ½ or 8. Ever tried to get decent shoes in large sizes – and ones which don’t make your feet look like boats? Added to that, I’ve spent most of my working life upright. For various jobs I needed shoes in which I could walk easily, or stay on my feet in comfort. I’ve lost the ability to walk in anything higher than 2 inches. So, although I admire beautifully made shoes with those red soles and sky-scraper heels, sadly they’re not for me.
The shoes which have the biggest role in my life? My walking boots. As any walker knows, they are dear to the heart. Nothing worse than cold, wet feet or, even worse, blisters. These took a while to break in but now they are like best-friends.
I walk my dogs on a large area of common land, not far from home. It's rising land and commands fine views across three counties and to Wales beyond. In the winter it's often frosty and crisp and in summer the grassy meadows are covered with buttercups and wild orchids. This winter the going, as you can imagine, has been rather soft! I really needed my walking boots.
Most days I have the place to myself but occasionally meet other walkers, often accompanied by their canine chum. In good old English dog walking tradition, we introduce the dogs and not ourselves, so I tend to find out only the dog's name!
So these boots tell shaggy dog tales.
Today, I met Fizz the Rottweiler and with her was a bouncy brown Lab. The Labrador rejoiced in the name Mr Darcy (and, to be fair, he was exceedingly handsome although perhaps not quite as dignified as his namesake). His owner explained when they went to inspect the litter of puppies; this one fell into the water bowl and waddled over, soaking wet. Another iconic ‘Wet Darcy’ moment!
Then there is the touching story of Pete and his rescue greyhound, Sparky. No one wanted to take the dog on, as he was elderly. Pete, grieving for his wife, was persuaded by his son to have another dog to get him ‘out and about.’ When these two met, they knew they were made for one another. Widower met old, unwanted greyhound and it was love at first sight. Sparky has fallen on his paws, as when I last spoke to Pete, the dog had breakfasted on eggy bread and had been bought a new and expensive bed!
Some people are new to the area and checking it out for possible dog walks, some are regulars who I bump into from time to time.
One chap, who sports ferocious tattoos on his shaven head, has four little terriers and is the gentlest man I've ever met. He's besotted with his dogs but trains them well too. And, then there are the two tough looking blokes with a brace of Staffordshire Bull terriers. The owners explained, when I met them back in December, they'd just bought them all doggie Christmas presents, which were hidden under the bed!
I often have to revise my prejudices.
Dog-walking is great thinking time. When the weather is fine it’s a real pleasure to be away from the desk. Often, a knotty plot problem is resolved while I’m out. And, sometimes, as in the case of Pete and his elderly greyhound, it provides me with a ready-made story.
The real reason I walk the dogs though, is they won’t leave me in peace until I have. On our return, I treat myself to a coffee and sit at the desk while the dogs slump on the sofa. I can then write, interrupted only by their snoring!
Love, Georgia x
PS Just to prove I do have a girly side (even if they are flatties) here is my latest shoe buy.