Alex Morrall's Blog: Balancing writing and painting

The kind and wonderful Tregoll’s book club will be hosting me on 10th July at 2:15pm… and they will open the event out on Zoom.

So why not come along to hear the stories behind the stories, or even armed with questions (prioritising books, rather than my other website topics of art and cake).

Hit reply to book a seat..

Got to tell you something about Robin. We’ve spoken again. I made the effort to call him, let him know about a class reunion but he was in the middle of something, walking between a meeting, could give me five minutes of his breathless time.

It’s just a suspicion, but it’s rippling clearer in my head, day by day. Robin, he’s radiant. He’s creating again.

All this networking, this chatting with PR, it’s got its buzz when it starts, but it’s not what Robin is, my magician, it’s not what Robin is. It’s hibernation at the end of the day.

I can see him, hoarding stories like acorns, letting some of them slip into oak trees. He’s doing what his long long legs were meant to lead to. There’s a new idea in there, in his head, spilling into conversations, scribbled notes, photographs; and if I know Robin, it will be something completely different.

His mosaic next to Zero Bar is going to be like ash in comparison to his new sparks. I daydream about the cogs, the shafts the furnace rocking into life with that first heavy definite thump, an ache of life and another thump, the next quicker. Red hot coals and a swarm of salsa-ing sparks.

I peered harder into his world. All the beautiful things I knew about the labyrinth, the city, his discoveries, were all ingrained in his first mosaic. Where did he find his energies from? Not these. He must see how everything moves, from journeys overseas; shifts in relationships to ants scurrying underneath the every day, electrons soaring around nuclei, to find so much dynamism all of the time, a Prussian doll of dynamisms. Robin’s found all the layers and is about to start adding them together. Where from? Where from?

Has Robin fallen in love? No. Well, maybe. His other muses have long flown, the space is there waiting for ‘the one’. It could explain his awakening, ease of accomplishment.

“So what’s going on in your life at the moment?” I ask him down the phone.

“Oh, everything. We must catch up sometime. Sorry I can’t make the reunion.” There is the sound of a swinging door. “Look, Berns. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back.” Robin soars off.

A bit later, he sent me a text. “This amazing thing has happened with my mosaic – it’s going to be part of something big. I’ll explain soon.”

Read on Adrift the Storyteller & The Mosaicist here

Then there was the white hospital – bright lights – why was it that the whole world seemed to be offering this sharp light everywhere? Tall hospital doors.

Then coloured rooms – nursery rooms, ‘A Picture For Mummy’ papered rooms – little red chairs.

Then pale rooms again. Glass windows onto glass boxes, one of them containing Freddie. (Bernie and Freddie. Dad, did you do this name thing on purpose?) Little, more tiny that anything, more tiny than he should be. Hopelessly harmless and dependent – and compared to my natural insomnia, interestingly asleep. 

I felt something. Wondered if it was love. Knew I had to keep away from this place.

“They don’t know how soon we will be able to take him home, Bernie.” Out of the passing, memoried images of this early time, those are the only words I can remember from the hospital.

At home, conversation, food. A meal at home – not fast food, or dinner party, or cheap improvisations, More conversation. Money, exams, we’re proud of you, do you remember so and so? Looking forward to you coming home this summer?

But it was too late by then. I knew I loved Freddie. It was the final decider, simple, a reality slithering towards me, and pinning my eyes with its own.

Sometime dad, I’ve got to tell you.

I declined help in tugging my bag up the stairs. I was the fittest person there. I left the open suitcase on my bed, bringing my life back into the old room, and started working my way down the winding stairs for coffee. I kept my feet on the wide side of each step, where there was still bare dark wood and my foot was smaller than the step. Me and my clumsiness, it took ankle acrobatics. What if I mis-stepped? What if dad, or Eleanor mis-stepped? How many times did the thought have to cross my mind? I reached the bottom, the wider steps. Dad was clinking plates, piling them into the kitchen. There was the mumble of passing conversation between the kitchen and the dining room. I wondered how other people could live like this, how cosy, how terrifying.

What if someone were to die?

READ THE BOOK ADRIFT THE STORYTELLER & THE MOSAICIST here

Adrift – The Storyteller & The Mosaicist

A review of Blue Zucchini, Tetbury

You know traditionally, when there is an American word for something and an English word for something, at least one of those words is a bit logical. Not so the fancy-pants courgette. In English we have to say it with a french pronunciation, whilst the American Zucchini. What is with all those queued up consonants, even after requestioning the exotic ‘Z’? Is it trying to make up for the fact that it is just a watery green thing, albeit one that scrubs up well when a good chef comes along?

So it’s hard to know if the cafe, ‘Blue Zucchini’ in Tetbury is trying to tell us that it’s salt of the earth, a bit posh, or American by its chosen name. Given the addition of the word ‘blue’, I’m going for ‘Arty’. I’m all good with that.

Indeed within the walls of Blue Zucchini you will find fun magazine wallpapered cavern along with lanterns, parasols and slightly too loud music. And the food is good, very good.

It delivers favourites such as heuvos rancheros in such a way that you just can’t stop eating. It was the discovery of cheese in the middle of my flatbread, having already enjoyed fried eggs, kidney beans and fresh salsa. If I’d known there was cheese I’d have skipped the avocado. 

Its cakes were not on the menu. (What were they thinking?) but they featured in the display case at the entrance. They were generously pre-cut, dripping with icing, and embedded with tea lights. This made them impossible to ignore. Even seeing that the cake was precut did not prepare us for the delivery of the enormous, gut-busting wedge of Guinness cake that we were confronted with.

Cake is the best vehicle for Guinness – none of that hard-to-drink-liquid that comes in a pint glass and gives you a headache the following day. My husband and I both looked at the arrival. We hesitated. We dived in with two forks and battled for minutes. But we weren’t up to the task, and staggered away leaving small towers of cake and icing still on the plate, and subsequently avoiding all food smells in Tetbury. It was worth it. I will fight there again one day.

Enjoyed reading my review. Why not ‘buy me a coffee’ on https://bmc.link/alexmorrall (No prizes for guessing where I’ll spend it!)

The plan had been to pop to the Kings Arms, a fabulously cosy pretty and authentic olde worlde pub, for a pint. Just a pint. But we left a meal and dessert heavier. 

Now I blame the Kings Arms for having such an appealing menu. We were looking for a bar snack at first, and then decided to just get a starter. Then we noticed desserts being delivered to one table and it just seemed unjust to be left out of the oohs and ahhs that ensued. Over the shoulder of my husband I saw some very pretty glasses of white wine (why oh, why does the shape of the wine glass pull me in so easily) so we had to have some of that too. 

None of which, as I wail on the scales the following morning pondering helium balloons as a solution, can say I truly regret. My prawns on sourdough were drenched in a garlicky herb dressing that soaked into the bread leading to a vastly superior version of a breakfast’s fried bread. The chips were actually nice, as opposed to being triple cooked to appease some strange menu regulator for which this odd food seems to have become a required punishment lately. The sliver of banana bread with peach parfait was um… y’know… peachy… but mostly not too sweet which meant that the highlight, the actual white wine that tasted truly good, such a rare achievement in a by the glass order at the pub, was still enjoyable along side the dessert. And good on the ol’ Kings Arms- I got the same glass as the people who had glasses with their bottles. A rare pleasure. 

Unlike many English pubs The Kings Arms shines in both bright summer, and as a cosy winter retreat. It is both cosy and light and clean. The small rooms, are adequately warmed by a roaring open fire in winter, and the interior is clean and happy even when it is a little early too . As we sat here, we chatted about how happy we were that the world has moved on since lasagne and chips at a pub.

I’m a local artist and novelist. This blog is profit free as I don’t run ads. So why not buy me a coffee on https://bmc.link/alexmorrall

I don’t normally get to go out for breakfast these days, one Tuesday off work and it was all going wrong. An early eating out treat seemed the only way to reset. I had first come across the Boston Tea party in Exeter, which was a huge room upstairs of second hand leather sofas, that (on the condition you ordered) was an shabby chic palace in which to relax, so I was intrigued to visit the Stratford Upon Avon branch. This high ceilinged room, with old school chairs, was a little less relaxing but just as fun. 

The menu was all a bit of a maze of sweetcorn fritters, seasonal greens and other delights that told me that these guys know that bacon eggs and pancakes is not enough to drag us away from most of our own kitchens, when I realised that the knack is to order something simple from the main list… and then add extras!

 So I started with the sustainable alternative to avocado toast, which was waaaaay better than avocado toast in its slimey laxativity. All the flavours of smashed pea almond and edamame, making for a much more satisfying breakfast, along with poached eggs and an exceptionally expensive side of mushrooms (2.85, a whole ten pee more than the sausage…) All accompanied by a refreshing oolong tea, for which the pot was smaller than the cup it came it.

Seeing as this was a really ‘day gone wrong’ brunch, I did not hold back, ordering a smoothie – and just perfectly this arrived while brekkie was still cooking, satisfying my 9:30 weekday morning. And these did not appear to be the packet smoothies available at every other cafe. Maybe they add the fruit at the end to pretend, but there was a stub of mango at the very end of my mango lassi.

As I have oft stated, a proper brunch is not brunch unless it is accompanied by cake.. so obviously this selection drew me in… But the gluten free coffee and walnut cake proved to be the only disappointment of a very good visit, veering between sticky (all good) and too dry. (More on there mor cakes on my next visit…)

Not cheap, should come on prescription for moody Tuesdays. 

If you’re new to my blog, you may not know that in addition to being a published food reviewer, I am also a novelist – reviewed in the national press and artist. My most popular novel, at the moment is ADRIFT – THE STORYTELLER & THE MOSACIST https://amzn.to/332UUNR

Why do I ask…? Because one of the characters, Kara, in my new novel is obsessed with maths.

Whether you refer to it as “math” or “maths,” I believe it holds an intriguing place in our lives. Can maths really be beautiful? Even the most stunning computer-generated images are composed solely of binary code, representing one of the narrowest paths mathematics can take.

Mathematics governs the rules that propel Earth around the sun, cause stars to pulsate, and even explain the graceful flow of water or the delicate unfurling of a flower following the Fibonacci sequence.

Consider the meticulously crafted little propellers in the photo above that were made by a friend. Their structure isinspired by the Fibonacci sequence. They exemplify the intricate relationship between mathematics and nature.

Have I managed to pique your interest? If so, I’d be delighted to share more details about my novel at a later time.

Please let me know your thoughts on mathematics on social media below (the comments block on this page is currently broken)

To make sure you here about my coming novel, make sure to sign up HERE and get a free copy of “Remembering Not To Breathe’ a set of short stories by myself and Booker Shortlisted Clare Morrall.

All the best

Alex

Facebook

GoodReads to read reviews of things I’m enjoying reading.

here

United Kingdom

You received this email because you signed up on our website

Bourtanical, Bourton on the water

While there are many waterside locations in Bourton On The Water, almost all of them offered burgers, burgers with a twist, burgers that are a bit bigger than other burgers and… lasagne. I am not a burger fan. Sorry. It’s a sensitive subject. No correspondence will be entered into.

And hence we found ourselves in the very attractive and spotlessly clean interior of Bourtanicals. It was the smoothie menu that caught our eye first. In particular, the blackcurrant and clotted cream smoothie. What a combo promised, tart fruit in rich waves of fatty creaminess (does it get more solid than clotted cream?) and vitamin C to boot.

For one worried moment, I thought I saw the barista brandishing a bottle of Ribena, and had to check of the waitress, “Are they real blackcurrants?”

Blackcurrant and clotted cream smoothie

“Yes” she answered, without hesitation or needing to ‘check with the chef’.

Feeling on a roll, now I felled compelled to continue, “and that’s actual clotted cream?” Not even the slightly healthier and possibly more drinkable double cream.

“Yes,” came the same certainty.

We were relieved, and indeed, when the smoothie arrived it did appear to be all that had been promised… but would my husband be able to eat his lunch after that?

His pie had a lovely authenticity with its rustic, homemade appearing crust. Apparently the broccoli was really nice (?) – something about the dressing, and yes, my husband did have to lie down for quite a while when we got home.

As for my vegetarian all day breakfast… hmm…  I sometimes pick vegetarian dishes, not because I am vegetarian, but because someone has had to go to the effort to make them more interesting. It wasn’t that the dish was bad, it was more that the key to flavour was fat. Even the mushrooms appeared to have been deep-fried rather than sautéed. That said, the experience as a whole was a very enjoyable one.

If you’re new to my blog, you may not know that in addition to being a published food reviewer, I am also a novelist – reviewed in the national press and artist. My most popular novel, at the moment is ADRIFT – THE STORYTELLER & THE MOSACIST . http://alexmorrall.com/buyadrift/

From the writer of the ‘Engaging and Uplifting’ (Daily Mail) HELEN AND THE GRANDBEES,  Alex Morrall explores themes of love and isolation. Bernie is plunged into turmoil when her step-brother is born, too vulnerable to leave, too vulnerable to risk loving. And she is confused when she falls into love with mosaicist Robin. Can she learn to trust in a human connection that might let her down? http://alexmorrall.com/buyadrift/

So far, I have only popped in to Loxleys for a drink, otherwise known as a ‘drink and what are your bar snacks?’ More hopefully known as ‘a drink, what are your bar snacks and please please would you show me the dessert menu just in case.’

This proved an unusually rewarding experience, as the bar snack menu is top notch – none of this honey-roast-peanuts-or-quit nonsense here. Their bar snack menu features charcuterie, cheese, scotch egg, and even a salt-aged ribeye sandwich. We were thwarted..  We ordered olive and almonds with our wine. They were spot on. 

All wines were enjoyable. I loved the familiar rounded smell of the Sauvignon bland, and my husband crowed that his red wine was the superior choice (so much so, I forget what it was). I dabbled with the 0%alcohol Sauvignon too and came to the conclusion that… it was very good that Loxley’s offered the option…

Fortunately, the waiter took the hint and ‘dropped’ the dessert menu, leading us to share an egg custard tart, with lemon verbena meringe and lemon purée. 45 minutes could not have been better spent.

I am a local novelist, poet, and artist who loves eating out. The Daily Mail has described my novels as ‘Engaging and Uplifting’. You can buy ADRIFT here:

[image error] [image error]

One of my more enjoyable jobs this year has been role of judging the Rubery Book Prize, an international  prize created to celebrate independent and small publisher books of a very high standard. This is a fabulous job, as I get my hands on great reads and am actually invited to vent an opinion on them 🙂

Here are a couple of the star reads for me of the shortlist and the winners (uses affiliate links)

Where Madness Lies – Sylvia True

[image error]“>[image error][image error]

This was the first novel I’d read in the competition, and I found it completely compelling, constantly trying to check whether i was prejudiced by this early reading, by looking again, and being impressed on each reread.

If you are a fan of my novel HELEN & THE GRANDBEES, you will find this a completely different exploration of the marginalisation of mental illness. In the early twentieth century Nazi Germany tried to eradicate the mentally infirm, cruelly mistreating them in hospitals to the point of starvation and other indignities. It can feel as if novelists can’t find inspiration beyond this tragic episode of 20th Century atrocities, but within Where Madness Lies, I feel a really unique perspective has been offered. The story is perfectly crafted. We all loved it.

The Word – JL George

Wow. This was gripping and original. Some children are born gifted with a unique ability that when they order, the listener is forced to oblige. Is it a gift, or a curse, or… a weapon to fit someone else’s agenda? The teenagers in this young adult novel are well developed, and their stories, engaging. I’d happily recommend this to an adult or young adult reader.

[image error] [image error]

Keep on reading…

Adrift- The Mosaicist and the Storyteller is currently only 3.99 or free on Kindle Unlimited

[image error] [image error]

[image error]