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Welcome to the slightly eccentric world of Scarlett Inc.
Warning: some pictures may make you titter.

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Thursday 4 September 2014

Out with the Woofs: Newport is just like India

I  was out with the woofers for an early morning walk a couple of days ago and I was relishing the loveliness of Autumn. We walked along the park at around 7.30am - the grass was dewy, the conkers were looking ready to drop and yet it was still pretty warm out. In fact, as the sun rose, it reminded me a lot of my trip to India. That warm and yet mistiness, with the feeling the day is about to get hot and people are getting on with their business before it gets unbearable. Of course, I was on holiday, so I could loaf around and read books, not lug heavy things around or drive through the hazy fug of the Delhi road system.

It ended up being quite an eventful holiday - my ex got what we thought was Amoebic Dysentery and the Bubonic Plague had been reported in Delhi. I nearly had a meltdown on a very wobbly bridge over the River Ganges and I had the loveliest South Indian food I have ever tasted, served on a banana leaf.
 
India: picture sourced from
The Shooting Star




I think this is one of my most favourite times of the year. Alongside Spring and Summer. OK, it's just winter I don't much appreciate. September is a month of memorable times for me. I first got to know my husband in September, I had two dear little babies in Septembers (now lumbering large ones) and things that grow in the bushes are ripening and ready to eat. When I lived in London for a year, I spent most of those September weekends at my brother's home in the country, snaffling rose hips and blackberries and making apple crumble.


Biggun #2 & his Den
Den building is also perfect for this time of year. The wood is reasonably dry and there is plenty of material to use for houses. Fairies are easier to spot because they are lazing about in warm spots, bellies full of fruit. Biggun #2 and I built a shelter at our forest as it looked like it might rain, but by the time we finished, the sky was bright blue again. We didn't see any fairies, only 2 big dogs chasing each other.


The Fairy Throne


A zillion types of moss and a few earwigs


It's also the start of the 'school' year, where we decide what to do. Currently, we are studying for GCSE Geography and learning about River Systems. Both chaps are doing Maths GCSE and English and Biology and Biggun #2 is starting drama classes this weekend. By cripes, I'd better get cake baking as it's his birthday next week!!

And so on goes the relentless cycle of Things To Do....

Groovers!! Jules xx



Tuesday 26 August 2014

August on the Isle of Wight: books and tornadoes.

August is selling month!!

I have been really busy this month with lots of shows and events. August is always really busy on the Isle of Wight, with lots of families on holiday and folks enjoying themselves. We've been pretty lucky with the weather this year too, I've seen lots of holiday makers enjoying themselves on the beach and going to the events that I have been at. The books have been flying out and if you bought a book - thank you - and I hope you enjoyed it.

Here is a pic from the Isle of Wight Steam Fayre, which unfortunately suffered from Wet Bank Holidayitis which is very bad for books. My son confirms that the Horse Tornado (below) is great fun.

http://www.visitisleofwight.co.uk/dbimgs/steam-show.jpg
Photo from http://www.visitisleofwight.co.uk/information/news/2013/8/21/what-s-on-august-bank-holiday-on-the-isle-of-wight-a124


Monday 18 August 2014

Little Red Riding Hood Fairy Print, Christmas and Etsy

I've been beavering away putting new prints in my Etsy shop.


https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/julesmarriner


One of them is Little Red Riding Hood, which I suddenly got the urge to write my own version of following a doodling session one night. There I was with my thick 8b pencil and sketchbook just drawing whatever came to me - and she appeared right in front of me! So, next job is to get the written story down on paper; she's going to be a butt-kicking gal who won't stand any nonsense from a Gran-eating wolf.


Red Riding Hood Faery print


I also got the scent of Christmas on the wind. I know it's only August, but you have to think early when you've got festive prints in your shop and I've decided that this year is going to be a great Christmas! I don't know what happened last year, I just never felt the love for Xmas. So this year, my Hare and Bear are spreading joy early. I'm totally in love with the way watercolour works with chalk pastels - as in my moonlight here. I get very excited about painting light and love working


Hare and Bear Festive Winter Print




Enjoy! Thanks for reading and have a troooly fabbo week.
Jules x


Sunday 10 August 2014

A little bit of Autumn

Normal service has resumed at Scarlett HQ. Although it is early August, we are experiencing a little bit of Autumn, thanks to Ex Hurricane Bertha. I have a new drip in my studio roof light, luckily it is not falling onto anything important, just another thing to sort out when the weather clears up!


Mad looking cloudy sky just before the thunder.

I quite like autumn. The word was first used in literature by Chaucer in 1374 and comes from the old Latin, Autumnus. For me, it means conkers, acorns, blackberries and beautiful leaves. These days I put conkers on all windowsills and the stairs and for the past few years we haven't had so many spiders in the house. I'm not keen on spiders in houses. Like New Forest ponies, they should live outside.


Autumn also brings for me a bit of relief - the end of the show season. And a new time to write and think about my new book ideas. At the moment I am working on a story which I wrote many moons ago. It's called Bluebell's New School; a witch who wants to go to normal school. The star of the story is a little boy by the name of Alfie Spinblast, naughty but with a few one-liners - I'm hoping this will appeal to girls aged 7-9. 

 
Bluebell's first spread - not yet finished.


I'm also desperate to get 'Fidget' out there - after all, he has been my Facebook icon forever!! He's a little Owl who doesn't know what he wants for his tea. He was inspired by my (then) two year old son. About time he made it off my bookshelf.


Fidget - the owl who can't decide.

And then there's 'The Golden Stone', a much longer story for confident readers all about the Isle of Wight and a magical vortex.


Last week, while I was busy doing not very much, I started to write my own version of Little Red Riding Hood. I'm not sure why it suddenly came to me - after all, I have never felt the urge to rewrite a story before, but I had drawn her....she came to life....I couldn't help myself!

Sketch for Red Riding Hood


So as you can see, there is much to be done. 

And now there is THUNDER OUTSIDE!! I may be trapped in the studio until it passes.....

Friday 1 August 2014

Dementia and Me.

I was listening to Outlook on the World Service at 3am today. Me and the World Service are fine friends; Roz Chast, a cartoonist from the New York Times was discussing her graphic novel 'Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant'. It's about her experiences with her aging parents, her Dad had dementia and her Mum had health problems and was generally belligerent about old age.

It made me think maybe I should write a little about my own experiences.

My Dad died in 2009 aged 80. Although he'd been diagnosed with Prostate Cancer some years earlier, it was under control and he was as fit as a flea until the 6 months prior to his death. He was my Mum's carer since she'd had some TIAs (minor strokes) in 2003. She almost died because the strokes were linked to her having peritonitis and she ended up having an emergency colostomy and was in Intensive Care for about a month. 

I had no idea what 'being my Mum's carer' involved. I thought I did. 

My parents had moved from their house, which my Dad really loved into the town where I live just 2 weeks before he died. It was a warden assisted, so that made things a lot easier. My Mum was devastated by his death and for the next 6 months I spent most of my time with her. My children were still young, but we somehow managed. Social Services provided Carers to help her get up and ready for the day and there was someone who would take her out a couple of times a week. 

As the months turned into the first year post-Dad, things started to go a bit weird. My Mum had been diagnosed with Vascular Dementia as part of her TIAs. The tiny vessels that bled caused those areas of her brain to die and this mainly led to difficulty with balance and timekeeping. If we went out for something to eat, only a minute or two after we ordered, she would be saying 'Gosh, they're taking a really long time!'

It was as though my Mum had lost her anchor in reality. In fact, this analogy is more accurate than you might think. She and my Dad had both left their parents home to set up their own when they got married. They had rarely been apart, especially since retiring so she always had someone to bounce her ideas off. My Dad was a fairly grounded sort of person and when my Mum was getting a little outraged about something or someone he had a way of calming things. He was no angel though - he had his own things to get cross about and then often the roles were reversed.

With my Dad gone, her dementia started to get worse. At the time I believed that she was the victim of unbelievably bad luck. In the last year I have realised that she has been suffering from Delusions, where a person truly believes something has happened. This is different from Hallucinations (which is also related to Dementia) where someone smells/sees/hears something that isn't really there. My Mum has had a few of these too though - like the time she rang us at 8pm to say there was smoke coming out the back of her TV. We raced over to her house (me in my PJs and slippers) to discover nothing wrong with it. There was the 'giant spider as big as my hand' which prevented her from going into her apartment. Again, rush over, nothing there.

Sadly, she forgot that my brother, her 3rd child had died in 1996 when he was 36. She asked why I was talking about him in the past tense. "Are you trying to tell me," she said, "that he's dead?" It was like telling her for the first time all over again.

During 2013 I was at breaking point. Every day there was something. If it wasn't something medical, it might be shopping, clearing up unmentionable mess, dissuading her from getting a cat/dog/hamster, (she would not be able to look after it and I just knew it would fall down to me) organising the Carers, preventing her from setting fire to the flat with her newly found smoking habit (holes in carpet and chairs) and doing endless amounts of laundry. She was developing a hoarding habit. When let loose with a carer who would take her out, she would buy all sorts of inappropriate things. Vast quantities of booze, cigarettes, clothes that were too small for her, tons of food from Sainsbury's. She asked me to set up a food delivery service so that her meals, fully made could be frozen and microwaved when needed. Still she bought fresh veg that went into the fridge and was left to rot until I cleaned the dripping festering mess up. This was particularly hideous when it was meat (for a vegetarian!).

Although I asked the Carers to monitor what she was buying, they are unable to stop her buying stuff that was inappropriate. It was, after all, her choice how to spend her money. It meant that I had to return things that didn't fit her or that she didn't need. Another job to fit into my already busy life (self employed Mum of young children and two Asperger's in the house! And dogs.)

As I said, breaking point happened in the summer of 2013; her lovely social worker encouraged her to have some respite care in a home which was almost at the end of my road. She was very nervous to leave her home, but I helped her pack and got her into the car. I went back to lock up only to find she had got back out of the car and was trying to walk - she uses a frame, which was in the boot. It was a miracle that she hadn't fallen. I was very stressed.

By the time we arrived my blood pressure was through the roof but the staff were lovely and very welcoming. They could see the state I was in so suggested I left them to it and they'd help her settle in.  She had a room upstairs overlooking the garden.

At lunchtime I had a phone call from them. Apparently she had told them that she wanders around at night and therefore they couldn't let her stay in an upstairs room due to safety. They had no other rooms available. Please could I collect her after tea? 

I can remember that feeling now, just writing about it. Doom. Frustration. Beyond the end of my tether. Blood pressure. Anger - she did not wander around at night, she just wanted a ground floor room. I was desperate. I walked up there and spoke to the staff- they could see the state I was in. I must have looked a state - red faced, bulging eyes, turning green.  They said they'd talk to her again later that day and when they did, lo and behold, she no longer wandered at night. They agreed to let her stay for a couple of night to see how she got on and thankfully all was well. 

Social services agreed to pay for a 6 week stay, with the idea that she could then decide whether she wanted to stay. This would mean selling her flat. It was a big decision. However, she was well settled; the grounds were lovely, there were loads of activities to do and the staff were good. I was feeling much happier, able to get on with work and being Mum without too many distractions. The summer was warm and we started to enjoy ourselves.

After a month she started to get agitated again. She accused people of stealing her knitting and even hit another resident on the arm. This was viewed in a very dim light by the staff. She and I had words.On the day that the social worker came to discuss our decision about staying there, my Mum accused another resident of something which needed a full on inquiry. It was nothing that anyone had done to my Mum, more something that she thought she'd witnessed. My Mum said she couldn't stay any longer and wanted to go home.

The long and short of it was - the incident that she thought had not happened and she went home in September with the maximum amount of care that the council could provide, 4 visits a day. It meant a lot of extra work for me as we had to pack up all her belonging and get it back home (including her tv) restart all her blister-pack medication and her food deliveries, and get a new care company to take over. This meant meeting lots of new carers who didn't know her and her needs and I had to oversee things on a day to day basis. I had to get the newspapers restarted and listen to her daily worries and concerns and problems. It was hard work.

She lasted at home for a month. Things got really bad. Really bad.

At the end of September, we found her a place which had a ground floor room, which was run by a couple and not a corporate business, so it was more homely. We did everything we could to make it feel like home and there she has stayed.

It's coming up to a year since she's been there. We had to sell her home to pay for the care fees and that was simply horrible. My Mum, for all her inabilities to understand a lot now, has been terribly upset by the thought that she will never go home. 

At present we are dealing with her grief over my sister. She was hit by a drunk driver and killed instantly in 1974. That's 40 years this November 3rd. When the Consultant visited my Mum at the home, it was all she could talk about - how angry she was that the driver had 'got away with it'. She is full of regret - she asked me how had she messed up her life so terribly? I think that she has never processed it - never learnt to live with it, and now in her final years all the feelings are still unresolved and raw.

I has occurred to me over the years that I should write a book about it. And then I have disposed of that idea because I like to make people smile with my books. People tell me I have a (slightly eccentric) sense of humour and believe me when I say, There is nothing funny about dementia. If you think about the person you once knew and compare it to the one you have now, there is little similarity. The things that I have been through with my Mum are painful and distressing. I don't want to write about the details. Maybe one day I will.

I will leave this post with one incident though that I can now look at and smile about.

A few months after my Dad died, my Mum rang me. She was ranting about something and her words were very slurred. I couldn't really understand her. I was very worried because I had been present when my Dad had his stroke at home and it was alarming similar. I rushed over to her house and when I got there what I found did nothing to allay my fears. I rang for paramedics. They came and checked her over. "She needs to go to hospital", they said, "It's possibly a stroke." 

Oh God, I thought, not another one. Not my Mum too.

I followed her to A&E where she continued to be odd, lopsided and slurring. The staff were very concerned after all, a large percentage of spouses did within 6 months of one another. We awaited blood tests while they ordered a brain scan.

Then the nurse came back with a sheepish look on his face. 
"I - er - not sure how to put this," he said. "We know what's wrong with her."
"What?" I asked, ashen faced.
"Her blood alcohol level is really high."
She was pie-eyed.
Stinko.
Brahms and Liszt.

And I suddenly I was the Mother of an 80 year old teenager.















Friday 11 July 2014

How to Make a Book

I often get asked about my book making process, so during the making of The House on Hare Hill I took lots of photos, so I could blog them and show you how I do it. This was via the 'make lots of mistakes and learn' route.

In October last year, I had this idea and did a quick sketch. A hare that takes up Yoga for a New Year's Resolution.
I liked the idea a lot - it made me laugh; as I have been Yoging (I made that word up, I do that a lot) since my early 20's, I didn't have to do much research. However, I knew from past experience that tying an idea down to a particular time of year brings a few challenges. So I ditched the 'New Year's Resolution' idea and decided that she would give up boxing and take up yoga instead. After all, it's much better for you.



Above is my thumbnail sketches. As you can see, sometimes I leave a page blank and wait for inspiration to strike, or scribble some words as I can't quite see what the layout is going to look like yet. Next, it's the layout for each page. For some reason I did all Hare Hill layouts in purple. I don't even like purple - it's my worstest colour, but I really liked the texture of the graphite, so I ignored the colour.

Then, as they are drawn, they get stuck up around my studio so I can keep a visual reference to where I am and exactly what happens next in the story. Sometimes things change at this point, if something doesn't flow or quite make sense.



More picures of the story around my walls. It's usually tidier than this. (Not true.)


 











 Developing the characters is a really important job - and making sure you refer back to the original as the book evolves. The face needs to be the same proportion; if one page has eyebrows, ALL pages need eyebrows!! I know this. I've had eyebrow problems before.




One of my favourite things to fiddle about with is paint texture. In my latter dotage I have gone all 'mixed media', especially watercolour and soft chalk pastels combo. I love it! Get the big brush out and makes loads of mess. That's a great day's work for me!





Then for the serious stuff. I was in two minds about going back to the trusty old dip pen method and put aside my waterproof staedler pens. It got the thumbs up from the focus group, so I stuck with it, despite the long wait for the ink to dry. I found lots of ironing to do while each pic dried. I now have the flattest clothes on the Isle of Wight.



Then it's a case of scanning in the (dry) black and white drawing and start digital colouring. You may be able to see the sky and background are used from the paint textures picture, above.





The writing and editing of the words comes last when I'm doing picture books. I love picture books because it's almost like telling two stories - or maybe one story from two perspectives. It's almost as if I think about the child when making the pictures and the grown up when writing the words. I try to make it a bit silly and fun to read.

So there you go! The process of book making, Jules-style. Then it's a question of doing the other pages, the covers, sending it off to the printer, checking a proof and making any changes, ordering the books and putting them out there!

My next story is called Bluebell's New School and is a proper 9-11 year old novel with fewer pictures. I often get asked for older fiction, so here it is. This will be a 'words first' way of working though and I have just finished editing it. I have no idea how this will work so watch this space. EEp!

Have a grooverooni week

Jules x

Monday 23 June 2014

Going on Radio Solent

I can now say I have witnessed the beginning and end of the year's shortest night. Knowing that I had to get up at 5am to go to the BBC Radio Solent studios was enough to make me wake up every hour, but Wally barking at 2.30am to go out really did the trick. So I can tell you, at this time of year you can see the first shred of light coming across the Eastern skies at around 3.05am. At 4.15 I took the dogs for a walk and only saw a man talking on his mobile - the sun still hadn't risen. It comes over the horizon at 4.52am.

So...Radio Solent?
It all started last week when Emily Hudson, one of the producers at the Radio station rang me to ask if I'd like to review the newspapers on Sasha Twining's Saturday morning show. How exciting!! I listen to the show most weeks, so I knew what to expect. At 6am I was waiting outside the newsagent in Cowes to buy a few papers and get a head start. 


http://www.bbc.co.uk/dorset/content/images/2006/11/15/sbh_203_203x152.jpg
The BBC Studio in Southampton

The other guests were Fran, a lady from Southampton City Council's Fostering and Adoption Unit and Bobby, a lawyer. Emily had bought croissants and gave us tea/coffee but I was much to nervous to eat anything. We whizzed through the papers and chose 3 front pages to talk about and some inside stories and before we knew it, 8 o'clock had come and we were on air.


One of the radio studios

Of course, I had to have the squeaky chair, so I was really conscious of keeping still so it didn't sound like someone was re-creating Frankenstein's monster on the mixing desk; then my throat went dry, which made me want to cough!! but after a few minutes it just felt like sitting in a room with 3 other people, chatting. Sasha was absolutely lovely and made us all feel at ease and I was glad to be sitting next to Bobby, who really sounded like he knew what he was talking about when the subject of the Middle East came up.

It was really useful to have highlighted some quotes from the pages and stuck big pink post-its on the side of the newspapers to find the pages quickly. 

Before we knew it, 9am had come and I was off to do some shopping in Southampton before heading back to the Island.

I'm delighted to find that this morning that I have sold some more books over the weekend; this I must put down to the lovely article that the Isle of Wight County Press had in this week's edition or my appearance on the radio. It's very exciting when things move fast!

From the Isle of Wight County Press, 21 June 2014


If you want to order a copy of The House on Hare Hill, you can HERE. It comes straight from me, so I can sign it for you, if you'd like to let me know who it is for.

Have a groovy week!!
Jules
xx