Meeting an Idol

Standing in a line of people, mostly women, snaked around barriers designed to keep people in and out. No it wasn’t some weirdly designed kettle at a protest (what do those kettles even look like?), I was stood outside WH Smiths in Manchester awaiting my first glimpse of the wonderfully talented Jodi Picoult. How one says her name I’ll never be truly sure pic-oo, pic-olt? Your guess is as good as mine, unless of course you caught sight of her on television recently or have seen her say her own name. I should research this further. Anyway, babbling is my middle name, so back to the point…

I stood in the middle of said queue, between two people who seemed very interested in the things in their hands. The girl in front read the book for which she was there for, the woman behind stood so close that if I accidentally threw my arms backwards I probably would have whacked her in the face, or groin, or both. She read the newspaper, or did a crossword, I didn’t see her exact activity but I know it required the black and white pages of a daily paper.

I watched the other people go about their (long) wait (though it wasn’t that long once the whole thing began, we all arrived early). People watching can be such an enjoyable pasttime, I try to do it once in a while. Today I saw a girl with scars along both arms, not just her forearms but her biceps too, covering her skin like the black markings on a Zebra. She talked about the book having gay character, she seemed thrilled by this, my only assumption (and the vibe I got!) is that she is gay herself. A girl a few people behind her was pregnant, I couldn’t be too sure at first because she crouched down with her hand on her stomach (that’s a good enough sign really) but as she stood her protruding stomach became all too apparent.

Then we got moving, the signing began and I passed a girl waiting for her sister to bring the book their mother had received that morning for her birthday (what a lovely extra gift to get the book signed for!). The lady directing signees was very nice, she asked if I’d read many Jodi Picoult books, she took the time to find out that I was a big fan, not just a person who decided to come along for the sake of meeting a famous author.

My turn soon arrived and there she was, sat behind a table with (who I can only assume) the woman who created the voice, the songs that complement this novel. Jodi Picoult of course is American, she greeted me, asked if I was Fiona (as I’d written my name on a post it for her to write that into the book) I told her how much I loved her writing and how I wished I could be only half as good as her, then I’d be happy. She told me to keep writing. I received a copy of the soundtrack, had a photograph taken and went on my way.

Tomorrow I will come back to pick up the photo, I don’t care if I look like a muppet, it’s Jodi-freaking-Picoult for crying out loud.

World famous.

I love her.

I will never not love her.

And that is the end of my story…I really do need to work on my story telling, I hope you enjoyed it all the same.


Admitting Defeat

On January 1st I set myself a goal: to write and read every single day. My plan wavered somewhere along the journey and whilst I read Twitter every day and news articles, it’s often not the greatest journalism ever and let’s face it, Twitter is full of spelling and grammar errors made not on purpose, but because some people still don’t know the difference between their/there, your/you’re, etc.

Sometime in February I joined the post a day phenomenon on WordPress. That lasted about a week. I was finishing a college course, I had to focus on the backlog of work I had yet to complete.

It’s time to admit defeat. My goal for the year fell down before I even started the post a day, which I fear was some minor attempt at fixing the original issue.

It’s time to start a new goal. For that I will start a new post…so watch this space!


For my poetry class I have to write a haiku. I haven’t thought about haikus since school and I didn’t realise there were so many rules, so it wasn’t the easiest of tasks. But here are three haiku poems that I have written.

Sun setting over
Darkened skies filled with singing
Birds perched on branches

Thick medium slice –
Butter, Marmite spread across
Crispy toasted bread

Tomcat returns home
After a day out hunting –
Sleeping on the floor