Sunday, 16 January 2011

And the winners were....

Remember I ended last year with a blog giveaway? Well, if you’ve forgotten, it must be because of all the extra partying you got up to over Christmas… because I promise you I definitely did.
And the winner of a whole load of signed stuff and an original illustration from Lottie Biggs is Not Desperate was [insert drum roll]

Fena Patel of London.
But – feeling cheered and reassured that this once-monthly blog does actually HAVE PLENTY OF READERS – I thought I’d package up a runner-up prize too, and that went to…[another drum roll please]

… the very sweet Rebecca Johansen in Denmark, who I am pretty certain is THE ONLY DANISH PERSON WHO I’VE EVER HAD AN EMAIL FROM – or indeed, had any form of communication with whatsoever.

So that’s an exciting first for me. Thanks Rebecca!

And thanks too to everyone else who entered the competition. If you wrote me a lovely note and asked me questions about what I’m up to and haven’t yet had a reply, please bear with me, I will reply to you at some point.

And also hello to Georgine who first got in touch with me about a year or more ago and got back in touch with me again the other day after reading Lottie… Desperate. Georgine is in Australia. To be honest with you, it completely weirds me out – in a nice way - to think that Lottie Biggs has reached that great big country on the other side of the world - even though I never have.


I must try and go there some time.

After a bit of a break, I’m back out visiting schools again this month. Next on my calendar are Sewell Park College and Notre Dame which are both in Norwich… which is lovely for me because that’s just the other side of my front door.
Christmas? I hope anyone reading this had a lovely one. Mine was ok. When you reach a certain age, it’s never ever going to be as exciting as it was when you were six and you got that Paddington Bear with REAL wellie-boots on his feet. But having said that, I did discover THE LOVELIEST HOTEL I’VE EVER STAYED IN! Massive room, massive T.V, maple syrup and pancakes for breakfast which made my stomach melt – in a good way – just looking at them. And they even parked my car for me when I – and Mr Bloke – arrived! I’ve stayed in one or two nice places. But this was totally my favourite. And there – in a nutshell – is the irony of life.

Because it was in Ipswich.

The place of my birth.

Not Paris. Not Vienna. Not Venice. No. I’ll say it again… Ipswich.

Anyway, for the record, it was called The Salthouse Harbour Hotel. The only reason I’m telling you about this is because I’m excited about it. Not because I own the hotel. Or know the person who does. Or because I’m doing that annoying thing of saying, ‘Blah blah blah… lush hotel… yadda yadda yadda…Aren’t I smug and gorgeous?’

Honestly, please don’t think I was doing that. It was in Ipswich, remember.

But, hey, Ipswich is a good place. And the football club now has a new manager so I see a golden era hitting that town, I really do.

2011.

Fingers crossed for a good one.

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