DIARY OF A DOWN-TRODDEN, EX-AUTHOUR!
December 2010-Final thoughts............Swan song.
Well it is the middle of December already. I can’t believe a year has now passed since I started to pursue the task of getting my books into print. I think it’s time to let go of my dreams now! It is with a heavy heart I write my final blog.
Over the last few months I have been looking on the ‘I Need a Literary Agent’ page on Facebook. It is filled with people just like me and I’m not stupid enough to think my books are any better than theirs, in fact they are probably worse. I have come to the conclusion that I am rubbish at this literary lark! Clearly I am no ‘Mystic Meg’ either, because I was convinced 2010 would be the year my books would finally take off.
Still no closer in finding an elusive literary agent, I have therefore put down my pen for the last time mid-book and as from now, P.D. Scott- Author, will be no more. After all, only a fool wouldn’t know when they’ve been beaten!
I’m not sure what I’ll do with my life as I feel much like a burst balloon and as I have been writing since Kew Gardens was only a flower pot , I’m unsure what route I’ll take. Pole-dancing, belly dancing or lap-dancing perhaps....who knows? Or maybe I could go on a course to become proficient enough to repair and service refrigerators. You never know when Colin Firth’s fridge will break down again. Then our eyes would lock over a packet of frozen peas and as they say in Mamma Mia! Dot, dot, dot.............
I would like to thank you for putting up with my mental ranting - you all deserve medals. Thanks also for all your kind words of encouragement and support concerning my crazy blogs and for not sending me any abusive messages, I bet you were tempted.
Firstly let me take a minute to thank my friends, deranged Chris & Zoe and manic Michelle, for allowing me to rib them mercilessly in my blogs. Some of it true and other sections I admit were laced with a touch of artistic license.
I would also like to take time to thank Norwich based actor David Blood who has been really lovely and kept me sane with lots of words of encouragement. He even offered his services to make my dream come true by bringing his friend and fellow thespian/director Peter Sowerbutts to my house to read out my screenplay to me. You see, I mentioned once how it would be wonderful for any writer to hear their work portrayed by actors. How kind, but I couldn’t accept their offer......how embarrassing would it have been if they thought it was a load of tosh? Thanks anyway guys, you are both legends.
I had genuine messages telling me not to give up from the actress and presenter Terri Dwyer which were gratefully received too. I will always remember her kindness in my down days.
Last shout out goes to the suave and funny Peter Howard Sherlock. He often seduces me with bargains of Tommy & Kate handbags and perfume from my favourite Sit-Up TV shopping channels. A couple of months back I was eating my Sunday roast and was astounded when Peter started talking about me and my mad blogs! It was extremely nice of him but it did make me spray my potato everywhere. Thanks anyway Peter.
This blog is sounding more and more like an acceptance speech for an ‘Oscar’ sorry!
Facebook friends, Twitter followers and fellow Firth lovers I would like to say farewell, it’s been an absolute pleasure to get to know you all.
I hope you are aware I have bared my soul for you, but as Bridget Jones would say “It’s only a diary...everyone knows diaries are full of crap!”
Happy Christmas to each and every one of you, I hope you have a prosperous and peaceful New Year.
I would like to take the opportunity to wish you well in your dreams, however extreme or bizarre.
I say good bye with a tear in my eye.
Has anyone got a paper shredder?
Polly. XXX
NOTE TO COLIN FIRTH: This is the moment when you rush in...... sweep me up into your arms and
carry me off into the sunset!!! It’s not gonna happen is it? Shame!!
NOTE TO HUGH GRANT: This is the moment when you give up harassing me!
Thursday 16 December 2010
Wednesday 1 December 2010
DIARY OF A FRUSTRATED UNPUBLISHED AUTHOR! December 2nd 2010-Penultimate blog!!
DIARY OF A FRUSTRATED UNPUBLISHED AUTHOR!
December 2nd 2010-Penultimate blog!!
CHRISTMAS AT PEMBERLEY
It was Christmas Eve at Pemberley, the grand home of Mr Firth. The fine, quintessentially English, Derbyshire house was adorned with holly and ivy, the aroma of chestnuts on a roasting fire filled the ballroom. A merry gathering of people were enjoying the music coming from the pianoforte. Mr Firth was standing watching his accomplished sister playing a gay song, a smile played on his lips. His good friend Gordon Ramsay walked across the room to him.
“I wager you will not easily find such lively music or such pretty partners.” Gordon said.
“I believe you could be right, Gordon.”
“I saw some acquaintances of yours in Lambton today.” Gordon said.
Mr Firth turned to his friend. “Indeed?”
Gordon smiled. “Yes, I gather Miss Scott and her sisters are staying for Christmas at the inn.”
Mr Firth frowned. “What are they doing in Derbyshire?”
“It is not a flipping, capital offence! Oh Firthie .......why do you act so displeased with everyone and everything in the world?” Gordon asked his friend.
“And how would you wish me to act? You must remember......Miss Scott has already turned my proposal of marriage down.......would you have me ask both of her sisters too? You suppose ‘a single man’ in possession of a fortune must be in desire of a wife?” Mr Firth said crossly. “And do not call me Firthie!”
“I am sorry, what agonies you must be suffering.” Gordon apologised. “I asked Miss Scott to call on us with her sisters.”
Mr Firth stood up straight. “She has little than her charms to recommend her Gordon.......was her husband not with her?”
“Husband?” Gordon Ramsay shook his head. “But lo Firthie, she has no husband!”
Mr Firth raised his eyebrows. “I need a goblet of mead! And I beg you, do not call me Firthie!!”
“Is something wrong?” Gordon asked seeing his friend’s agitation.
“I must overcome this.” Mr Firth muttered under his breath before strutting away.
Mr Ramsay watched as his enraged friend walked over to the decanter to pour himself a drink, looking ill at ease. In the doorway of the vast ballroom unseen by Mr Firth, Miss Scott and her sisters stood waiting for an invitation to come in. Mr Ramsay was the first to look over and welcomed them with a broad smile.
“Ladies, ladies.” He said as he strode over to them before bowing. “No need to ask if you are all well......you look so elegant and charming!”
The three women bobbed a quick curtsey.
“Will you not come into the room?” Mr Ramsay continued. “I do believe Mr Bingley is warming his nuts by the fire!”
“I thank you, sir.” Michelle said fluttering her eyelashes. “We love roast chestnuts.”
It was at that moment Mr Firth glanced over and saw the women entering the room, he walked over to them.
“Ladies please accept my apologies for not receiving you properly just now.” He said taking a bow.
More curtseys were done by the ever-so polite women.
“Please do not trouble yourself Mr Firth, Mr Ramsay was looking after us most admirably!” Miss Scott said with a cool air of distance.
“Well I must say you all look very pleasing tonight!” Mr Firth said with a smile.
“Thank you, sir.” Zoe said blushing.
“I trust your husband is well Miss Scott, or should I indeed be calling you Mrs Grunt?” Mr Firth asked.
“I fear sir, I do not know of his health........ I have not seen him in above six months!”
Mr Firth looked vexed once more. “Oh Miss Scott, pray tell me he has not called off his betrothal. I hope he has not dabbled unkindly with your affections...........He is a curmudgeon! I would drag him to the gallows myself if it be so!”
“I fear it is a long story and Major Huge Grunt plays no ill part in it Mr Firth! You do not need to drag him to the gallows or indeed put him on the naughty step!” Miss Scott told him.
Mr Ramsay smiled at Michelle. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with me? It is a merry little jig.....is it not?”
Michelle smiled back. “It is sir. It puts me in mind of a sailor’s hornpipe! I would love to shake my little derriere to it.”
Mr Ramsay led Michelle over to where the other dancers were making shapes on the dance floor!
“I hope you are not displeased with Pemberley?” Mr Firth asked Miss Scott.
“No sir, not at all.”
“Then you approve of it?” He asked with a smile.
Miss Scott smiled back at him. “Very much, I think there are few who would not approve.”
December 2nd 2010-Penultimate blog!!
CHRISTMAS AT PEMBERLEY
It was Christmas Eve at Pemberley, the grand home of Mr Firth. The fine, quintessentially English, Derbyshire house was adorned with holly and ivy, the aroma of chestnuts on a roasting fire filled the ballroom. A merry gathering of people were enjoying the music coming from the pianoforte. Mr Firth was standing watching his accomplished sister playing a gay song, a smile played on his lips. His good friend Gordon Ramsay walked across the room to him.
“I wager you will not easily find such lively music or such pretty partners.” Gordon said.
“I believe you could be right, Gordon.”
“I saw some acquaintances of yours in Lambton today.” Gordon said.
Mr Firth turned to his friend. “Indeed?”
Gordon smiled. “Yes, I gather Miss Scott and her sisters are staying for Christmas at the inn.”
Mr Firth frowned. “What are they doing in Derbyshire?”
“It is not a flipping, capital offence! Oh Firthie .......why do you act so displeased with everyone and everything in the world?” Gordon asked his friend.
“And how would you wish me to act? You must remember......Miss Scott has already turned my proposal of marriage down.......would you have me ask both of her sisters too? You suppose ‘a single man’ in possession of a fortune must be in desire of a wife?” Mr Firth said crossly. “And do not call me Firthie!”
“I am sorry, what agonies you must be suffering.” Gordon apologised. “I asked Miss Scott to call on us with her sisters.”
Mr Firth stood up straight. “She has little than her charms to recommend her Gordon.......was her husband not with her?”
“Husband?” Gordon Ramsay shook his head. “But lo Firthie, she has no husband!”
Mr Firth raised his eyebrows. “I need a goblet of mead! And I beg you, do not call me Firthie!!”
“Is something wrong?” Gordon asked seeing his friend’s agitation.
“I must overcome this.” Mr Firth muttered under his breath before strutting away.
Mr Ramsay watched as his enraged friend walked over to the decanter to pour himself a drink, looking ill at ease. In the doorway of the vast ballroom unseen by Mr Firth, Miss Scott and her sisters stood waiting for an invitation to come in. Mr Ramsay was the first to look over and welcomed them with a broad smile.
“Ladies, ladies.” He said as he strode over to them before bowing. “No need to ask if you are all well......you look so elegant and charming!”
The three women bobbed a quick curtsey.
“Will you not come into the room?” Mr Ramsay continued. “I do believe Mr Bingley is warming his nuts by the fire!”
“I thank you, sir.” Michelle said fluttering her eyelashes. “We love roast chestnuts.”
It was at that moment Mr Firth glanced over and saw the women entering the room, he walked over to them.
“Ladies please accept my apologies for not receiving you properly just now.” He said taking a bow.
More curtseys were done by the ever-so polite women.
“Please do not trouble yourself Mr Firth, Mr Ramsay was looking after us most admirably!” Miss Scott said with a cool air of distance.
“Well I must say you all look very pleasing tonight!” Mr Firth said with a smile.
“Thank you, sir.” Zoe said blushing.
“I trust your husband is well Miss Scott, or should I indeed be calling you Mrs Grunt?” Mr Firth asked.
“I fear sir, I do not know of his health........ I have not seen him in above six months!”
Mr Firth looked vexed once more. “Oh Miss Scott, pray tell me he has not called off his betrothal. I hope he has not dabbled unkindly with your affections...........He is a curmudgeon! I would drag him to the gallows myself if it be so!”
“I fear it is a long story and Major Huge Grunt plays no ill part in it Mr Firth! You do not need to drag him to the gallows or indeed put him on the naughty step!” Miss Scott told him.
Mr Ramsay smiled at Michelle. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with me? It is a merry little jig.....is it not?”
Michelle smiled back. “It is sir. It puts me in mind of a sailor’s hornpipe! I would love to shake my little derriere to it.”
Mr Ramsay led Michelle over to where the other dancers were making shapes on the dance floor!
“I hope you are not displeased with Pemberley?” Mr Firth asked Miss Scott.
“No sir, not at all.”
“Then you approve of it?” He asked with a smile.
Miss Scott smiled back at him. “Very much, I think there are few who would not approve.”
“But your good opinion is rarely bestowed and therefore worth the earning.” Mr Firth smouldered. “Would you allow me to.................would I ask too much to introduce my sister to you?”
“I would be very happy to make her acquaintance. Come Zoe, let us meet Miss Firth.”
Mr Firth followed Zoe and Miss Scott as they walked over to the pianoforte where Mr Firth’s younger sister was playing a spirited ditty, much to the amusement of all the dancers. She carried on playing until she reached the end of her piece and then turned to smile at her brother.
“Sister, I would like to introduce you to two acquaintances of mine.” Mr Firth said. “This is Miss Zoe Scott and her sister Miss P.D. Scott. Ladies this is my sister, Mabel.”
The Scott sisters curtsied and Mabel nodded her head respectfully.
“My brother has told me so much about your family......it is good to finally meet you.” Miss Firth said.
“It is indeed good to meet you too.” Zoe said. “Will you not play another rousing song for us? How about the classic “Mamma Mia?”
“I would love to.....if you will turn the pages for me?” Miss Firth asked.
“But of course!” Zoe said. “Where did you learn to master the pianoforte so proficiently?”
“I went to ‘St Trinian’s school for young ladies!” Mabel Firth told her. “My dearest brother arranged it for me.”
“Really? I have heard only good things about that school!” Zoe said with a smile.
“Miss Scott I would be happy if you would do me the honour, of letting me claim the next two dances with you.” Mr Firth said suddenly.
“I thank you, but excuse me I am not inclined to dance. Break-dancing is not for me, I think!”
“Oh Miss Scott please do not be so disagreeable with my brother, I fear he has scarcely spoken of anyone as favourably as he has of you.” Miss Firth said.
Miss Scott smiled at Miss Firth. “As you wish Miss Firth.......I would not like to displease you!”
“Perhaps it would be more to your taste Miss Scott to take a turn around the garden?” Mr Firth asked. “It is very refreshing!”
“I think sir, it would be too cold!” Miss Scott said.
“But you could come in and warm your buns by the log fire.”
Miss Scott nodded and allowed herself to be led into the garden by Mr Firth (how utterly shocking!!)
The moon was high and bright in the dark, jet black, sky. The occasional star twinkled down on the couple as they walked in the frosty garden, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot.
“Would it be entirely inappropriate if I said you looked foxy tonight?” Mr Firth asked.
Miss Scott was dumbfounded. “Mr Firth, please do not be so bold!”
Mr Firth turned to Miss Scott. “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are the same as they were in June tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”
Miss Scott looked shyly at her feet and then up at Mr Firth’s hopeful face. “My feelings are so different................. in fact they are quite the opposite!”
“I scarcely allowed myself to hope of a moment like this Miss Scott. My past behaviour........oh I can hardly think of it without abhorrence. Your rejection has tortured me......and when I thought of you with Major Huge Grunt!” Mr Firth punched a nearby tree with pent up rage. “I have been a selfish being all my life.............I would still be, if not for you.......dearest, lovely P.D.”
Without another word Mr Firth stripped off his velvet jacket and plunged himself into the nearby, almost frozen, lake. Just minutes later he left the cold water and walked seductively towards Miss Scott. Music seemed to come out of nowhere, she had a sudden whirling vortex of longing. Her heart skipped a beat as his sopping wet, white shirt clung to every contour of his manly body.
“Oh, Mr Firth! You look so well like that.” She whispered. “You have such large muscles!”
“I thank you, my dearest.” He said. “I have a personal trainer.......I confess I have purchased a rowing machine too.”
That was the moment when Miss Scott decided against being a simpleton all her life. She agreed to become Mrs Firth (who wouldn’t?) with the promise from him that he would get professional help to curb him of his lake-plunging episodes. After sealing the engagement with a kiss on the cheek (any more would be improper unfortunately), the couple went back into the ballroom to announce their special news to the throng!
Mr Firth stood dripping lake-water onto the marble floor.
“I say there!” He shouted to his ‘circle of friends’. “I have news!”
He looked proudly at Miss Scott and waited for silence in the room.
“Miss Scott has agreed to my proposal of marriage......we are to make plans this very night.” He announced.
The crowd of happy faces began clapping their approval, while Zoe came rushing over to her sister.
“Oh sister, I am so very happy for you.” She said taking her to one side. “But I thought you hated him, when did you change your mind?”
“I do believe it was when I saw the size of his tench!” Miss Scott told Zoe with a wink.
“Perhaps the large size of his fish rendered Mr Firth a little less repulsive, sister?”
“I do believe so, Zoe.” Miss Scott giggled.
“What are you two minxes discussing?” Mr Firth asked after overhearing her last words.
“You had a large, flapping, tench hanging from your breeches as you climbed out of the lake.”
Mr Firth nodded and smiled. “Tell me dearest heart, when will I be able to call you by your name? P.D. just is not enough for me?”
“Please Mr Firth do not get ahead of yourself! You will know it on our honeymoon and not before.........it would be entirely indecent!”
“As you wish, P.D.” He said.
“Where is Michelle?” Miss Scott asked her sister. “I want to tell her my news!”
“She is with Mr Ramsay in the kitchen...... I do believe he is showing her his prize winning Cumberland sausage.”
“I bet he is!” Mr Firth said suspiciously. “He is a rampant, old goat!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the anniversary of the first Christmas at Pemberley, P.D. Firth gave birth to twins.....a pigeon pair! They called the little girl ‘Bridget’ and the little boy ‘Darcy’. Mr Firth engaged a ‘Nanny McPhee’ to help his wife with the children. Michelle was last seen boarding a ship with her new, best friend, Paris Hilton, to do the ‘Grand Tour’ of the hotels of Europe. Zoe too, left the country with that rogue and scoundrel, Master Chris Woods from the Grange, to become missionaries on the hostile and godforsaken island of Guernsey. Mabel Firth married Captain Ivor Rectum of Pembrokeshire and moved to his estate, where they happily began breeding miniature pigs together!
Would you believe they all lived happily ever after? Well of course they did, because it isn’t real life is it? It is only my ranting and mad ideas, with the help of some dialogue from Jane Austen!!
THE END
P.D. Scott. xx
“I would be very happy to make her acquaintance. Come Zoe, let us meet Miss Firth.”
Mr Firth followed Zoe and Miss Scott as they walked over to the pianoforte where Mr Firth’s younger sister was playing a spirited ditty, much to the amusement of all the dancers. She carried on playing until she reached the end of her piece and then turned to smile at her brother.
“Sister, I would like to introduce you to two acquaintances of mine.” Mr Firth said. “This is Miss Zoe Scott and her sister Miss P.D. Scott. Ladies this is my sister, Mabel.”
The Scott sisters curtsied and Mabel nodded her head respectfully.
“My brother has told me so much about your family......it is good to finally meet you.” Miss Firth said.
“It is indeed good to meet you too.” Zoe said. “Will you not play another rousing song for us? How about the classic “Mamma Mia?”
“I would love to.....if you will turn the pages for me?” Miss Firth asked.
“But of course!” Zoe said. “Where did you learn to master the pianoforte so proficiently?”
“I went to ‘St Trinian’s school for young ladies!” Mabel Firth told her. “My dearest brother arranged it for me.”
“Really? I have heard only good things about that school!” Zoe said with a smile.
“Miss Scott I would be happy if you would do me the honour, of letting me claim the next two dances with you.” Mr Firth said suddenly.
“I thank you, but excuse me I am not inclined to dance. Break-dancing is not for me, I think!”
“Oh Miss Scott please do not be so disagreeable with my brother, I fear he has scarcely spoken of anyone as favourably as he has of you.” Miss Firth said.
Miss Scott smiled at Miss Firth. “As you wish Miss Firth.......I would not like to displease you!”
“Perhaps it would be more to your taste Miss Scott to take a turn around the garden?” Mr Firth asked. “It is very refreshing!”
“I think sir, it would be too cold!” Miss Scott said.
“But you could come in and warm your buns by the log fire.”
Miss Scott nodded and allowed herself to be led into the garden by Mr Firth (how utterly shocking!!)
The moon was high and bright in the dark, jet black, sky. The occasional star twinkled down on the couple as they walked in the frosty garden, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot.
“Would it be entirely inappropriate if I said you looked foxy tonight?” Mr Firth asked.
Miss Scott was dumbfounded. “Mr Firth, please do not be so bold!”
Mr Firth turned to Miss Scott. “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are the same as they were in June tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”
Miss Scott looked shyly at her feet and then up at Mr Firth’s hopeful face. “My feelings are so different................. in fact they are quite the opposite!”
“I scarcely allowed myself to hope of a moment like this Miss Scott. My past behaviour........oh I can hardly think of it without abhorrence. Your rejection has tortured me......and when I thought of you with Major Huge Grunt!” Mr Firth punched a nearby tree with pent up rage. “I have been a selfish being all my life.............I would still be, if not for you.......dearest, lovely P.D.”
Without another word Mr Firth stripped off his velvet jacket and plunged himself into the nearby, almost frozen, lake. Just minutes later he left the cold water and walked seductively towards Miss Scott. Music seemed to come out of nowhere, she had a sudden whirling vortex of longing. Her heart skipped a beat as his sopping wet, white shirt clung to every contour of his manly body.
“Oh, Mr Firth! You look so well like that.” She whispered. “You have such large muscles!”
“I thank you, my dearest.” He said. “I have a personal trainer.......I confess I have purchased a rowing machine too.”
That was the moment when Miss Scott decided against being a simpleton all her life. She agreed to become Mrs Firth (who wouldn’t?) with the promise from him that he would get professional help to curb him of his lake-plunging episodes. After sealing the engagement with a kiss on the cheek (any more would be improper unfortunately), the couple went back into the ballroom to announce their special news to the throng!
Mr Firth stood dripping lake-water onto the marble floor.
“I say there!” He shouted to his ‘circle of friends’. “I have news!”
He looked proudly at Miss Scott and waited for silence in the room.
“Miss Scott has agreed to my proposal of marriage......we are to make plans this very night.” He announced.
The crowd of happy faces began clapping their approval, while Zoe came rushing over to her sister.
“Oh sister, I am so very happy for you.” She said taking her to one side. “But I thought you hated him, when did you change your mind?”
“I do believe it was when I saw the size of his tench!” Miss Scott told Zoe with a wink.
“Perhaps the large size of his fish rendered Mr Firth a little less repulsive, sister?”
“I do believe so, Zoe.” Miss Scott giggled.
“What are you two minxes discussing?” Mr Firth asked after overhearing her last words.
“You had a large, flapping, tench hanging from your breeches as you climbed out of the lake.”
Mr Firth nodded and smiled. “Tell me dearest heart, when will I be able to call you by your name? P.D. just is not enough for me?”
“Please Mr Firth do not get ahead of yourself! You will know it on our honeymoon and not before.........it would be entirely indecent!”
“As you wish, P.D.” He said.
“Where is Michelle?” Miss Scott asked her sister. “I want to tell her my news!”
“She is with Mr Ramsay in the kitchen...... I do believe he is showing her his prize winning Cumberland sausage.”
“I bet he is!” Mr Firth said suspiciously. “He is a rampant, old goat!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the anniversary of the first Christmas at Pemberley, P.D. Firth gave birth to twins.....a pigeon pair! They called the little girl ‘Bridget’ and the little boy ‘Darcy’. Mr Firth engaged a ‘Nanny McPhee’ to help his wife with the children. Michelle was last seen boarding a ship with her new, best friend, Paris Hilton, to do the ‘Grand Tour’ of the hotels of Europe. Zoe too, left the country with that rogue and scoundrel, Master Chris Woods from the Grange, to become missionaries on the hostile and godforsaken island of Guernsey. Mabel Firth married Captain Ivor Rectum of Pembrokeshire and moved to his estate, where they happily began breeding miniature pigs together!
Would you believe they all lived happily ever after? Well of course they did, because it isn’t real life is it? It is only my ranting and mad ideas, with the help of some dialogue from Jane Austen!!
THE END
P.D. Scott. xx
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