Larger than life and stranger than fiction.

People often ask, "Who is ..." and I always answer truthfully that each of my characters is everyone and yet, no-one. Our daily interactions with others etch small details of their words, actions and traits on our memories. As a writer, I take bits from here, there and everywhere and mould them into a new character, that becomes larger than life, allowing it to spring, fully formed, onto the page.

In my career, I met several Belinda's, who tried to bully and control others; I watched many pre-teens like Bob, anxiously approaching adulthood, uncertain about what the world wants of them and, at the other end of the timescale, I have seen once-confident professionals sink without trace, as they settle into a retirement that offers no acknowledgement of their former glory.

I based Billy O, in part on an Italian gentleman of advancing years, whom I met for no more than a minute, on a ferry from Venice to Rovinj. The day in Venice had been marred by wet weather and, as the ferry docked in Rovinj, passengers lobbied to be first to disembark, eager to return to the comfort of their hotels. The gentleman and I were pleased to be at the front of the queue, but our hopes of an early exit were dashed, when a member of crew extended a barrier rope in front of us and passengers from the upper deck were marshaled along the deck and down the gang plank . In a typical English manner, I waited patiently, accepting the delay with forbearance. However, my neighbour's Latin blood was up and he challenged the crew member to explain why the interlopers from Deck 2 were being given precedence over those of us who had waited patiently below. The crewman explained that the others were truly 'Upper Class', having purchased a V.I.P. ticket which gave them certain privileges. After muttering a few choice words about post-communist states, the Italian gentleman turned to me and said sadly, "When I was in the world, I was V.I.P."

It lost nothing in translation. It summed up perfectly the feeling of many elderly people, that life is a party that is happening somewhere else and your invitation has been lost in the post. Yet our society is enriched by giving value to those things that each generation can bring to the table, from the vigour and enthusiasm of youth, to the wisdom and experience of old age.

It is for that reason, that my children's books have two 'young'uns', two veterans of the world and one timeless cat.

Last night at the Alma Inn, I was pleased to be able to present cheques totaling £754 to Macmillan Cancer Support. This was broken down into £500 from book royalties and £254 generously donated by Linton Village Hall, representing the profits from their Christmas Cracker Tea. The fund reached £804, with another donation arriving this morning. In conversation with Emma Garvey, Area Fundraising Organiser for Macmillan, I was reminded that cancer is also no repecter of age, striking at young and old without prejudice. Since embarking on my one woman 'literary tour', I have met the most amazing people: School children who love to read about the swimming cat and the sinking policeman; young women who have tearfully shared their own experience of cancer and the wonderful residents of Ross Court, one of whom celebrated her hundredth birthday last week.

It has been my own personal Odyssey and I thank you all for being part of it.