On how I came to be the writer and traveller I am now.
Does it really matter how old I am? I've got a bus pass, and remember old money.
I live in a market town in Wiltshire, UK. It's a forgotten county. Long may it stay that way; it is quietly beautiful, with its chalk downs and ancient forests, the heights of Salisbury Plain and the mysteries of Stonehenge. Maybe I shouldn't remind you how beautiful it is; you can race through to join the crowds in the West Country and leave us to potter among our sheep.
I spent my working life as a social worker and play therapist, crawling round the floor with traumatised children and doing my best to piece them together again. I'm proud of everything I achieved. Some of the children I worked with have children of their own now. And some of the students I helped to train have gone on to great things.
All good things come to an end. I pre-empted that, jumped ship on an whim, and trotted round the world in my mid-50s. Life has never been the same since. As those of you who have read Over the Hill and Far Away or From the Inside Looking Out will know.
How do I spend my time now? Well, I have daughters, and grandchildren, who are the source of my greatest joys. I need more shelves to display their photographs. Without them I would be no more than the aging woman in the corner. Their very being makes sense of mine.
But I'm not only a mum and grandma. (And wife? No, I'm widowed. A long time ago.) I have other passions, as you know: writing, and travelling. Drop into the other pages to find out more about that. And I sing in a choir; sometimes we are very good indeed; always we enjoy ourselves.
Still curious about me? There's more in the books (you can find them all on the books page), or send me an email via the contact page. I'll do my best to answer you. And if several people ask the same question I'll come back here with the answer.