Only a few days till Christmas. How did that happen? It seems like yesterday that we were struggling through yet another lockdown, unsure of what the future would bring. It’s been quite a year. Queues at petrol stations, new Covid variants, Christmas parties that happened, then didn’t happen, then probably did happen but it was OK because everyone stuck to the guidelines and they were really, really tired with running the country and all, so they deserved to let their hair down.
But let me not sail into the perilously choppy waters of the Political Blog. This is not that. It could be, but it’s very nearly Christmas and I shall keep my angry murmurings to myself.
2021 has been a year I won’t forget in a hurry, but for all the right reasons. I published two novels in it. I can’t quite believe it. I am only a couple of weeks away from being a Proper Full-Time Writer.
All the time. Like every day. I shall have to invest in an embroidered writing robe, a pair of velvet slippers with pointy toes and a magic pen which writes only award-winning literature and hitches my self-employed wagon to whichever shooting star is in in 2022.
On Wednesday, I got to do writerly things. Two independent Suffolk bookshops stock my works which is a huge thrill.
I headed over to Halesworth to meet lovely Abbie Clements at her fine establishment, the Halesworth Bookshop. As I signed copies of The Diary of Isabella M Smugge and The Trials of Isabella M Smugge, a regular customer came in and bought one of each. Verily, the stuff that dreams are made of. Then I ambled down the Thoroughfare, taking in all the little independent shops, the many happy, smiling people and the general air of community which pervades this pretty little town. If you are ever there, I would urge you to spend an hour or so wandering up and down the Thoroughfare checking out the many wonderful local enterprises, including the bookshop which is a veritable Aladdin’s Cave of delights.
From one Thoroughfare to another
Driving back towards Woodbridge on the A12, my busy writer’s brain was taking in all the usual sights and sounds. On the outskirts of Yoxford, I was startled to see that someone had sculpted a giant man from wood and placed him in parkland by whichever historic mansion is on the right as you head south on the A12. He was a splendid sight, looming from the rich Suffolk loam and gazing out over the open countryside down towards Westleton. I added him to the seething cauldron of my mind and carried on down to Woodbridge, home of the other independent bookshop which stocks Isabella.
It’s probably no coincidence that the main shopping street here is also called the Thoroughfare and is lined with mainly independent shops. Here you will find the marvellous Woodbridge Emporium, run by lovely Jules Button. She too is good enough to take signed copies of my opus and sell them to East Suffolk’s discerning readers. Dear readers, there is nothing in this life, simply nothing to compare with seeing your own books sitting on a shelf in a real-life bookshop. I don’t know if the feeling of excitement wears off as you churn out more and more Great Works, but I suspect not.
Isabella M Smugge is far from being Suffolk’s most famous resident (Brian from Melton, Maggi Hambling, Charlie Haycock, Ed Sheeran and Justin Hawkins from the Darkness are way ahead of her at present), but she is growing to love the place. My books are very much rooted in the county and being surrounded by beautiful open countryside as I write helps with inspiration.
Next year, Isabella’s third outing, the Continued Times of Isabella M Smugge, will see the light of day. She’s been on Radio Suffolk, braved the playground and is now negotiating the joys of high school. She’s put down roots, made some wonderful friends and has no intention of ever going back to London.
Sounds a bit like me.
So, Merry Christmas to all you Smugge-ers and blog followers. Thanks for all your support this year and here’s to 2022!