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Although Wales is where I was born, I feel such an affinity with Walthamstow, London, where I grew up, that the town features in most of my books. After graduating from Newcastle and qualifying as teachers in Leicester, Peter, my husband, and I moved South to where Epping Forest meets the Central Line, and here we stayed. Before I became a writer, I taught in primary and special needs schools, and brought up my own two in between. Now they have beautiful children of their own and I couldn’t be a prouder granny.
When I need a break from writing or research for my stories I might take up my oil-paints and brushes and daub a pastoral scene or a still-life or maybe a flower-study or a portrait, to join the dozens already jostling for space on the walls of our little house. I’d like to sell a few but parting with them is hard.
What else do I do? Well, if I’m not writing or painting or on granny duty, you might find me in an art gallery, or reading a good book. Could be I’m playing Rummikub with the U3A or Circle Dancing or watching Daniel Barenboim conducting at the Proms. I might be in the theatre watching a Shakespeare play, or at home watching ‘Merlin’ or a costume drama on TV. I might be in the kitchen cooking something tasty for supper or visiting friends or digging the allotment or walking in the forest or flying to Tenerife. Life is short and if I can’t fit in the housework, that’s just too bad!