By way of introduction…

Before I begin blogging in earnest, my thanks to Mandi Adams of Blue Orchid Ltd for suggesting that I start blogging.  Secondly, thanks to my Mum, Gwen Brown, for reminding me that “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good” (an expression she knows I can’t abide), and for all the other moral support she’s given me since my employers pulled the rug out from under me – not to mention since I was born!  Finally, thanks to my writing mentor, Deb Martinson, Professor of English Writing and Women’s Studies at Occidental College, Los Angeles, for her consistently encouraging and often hilarious emails.  I am writing this now because I’m afraid that if I continue to just talk about it, Deb will stop encouraging me and start cajoling.  Then she will start nagging.  Eventually she will threaten to send her German Shepherd, Tina Fey Martinson, a.k.a. Miss Hot Breath, to lick me into shape – and I’m none too fond of dog breath.

You women are true menches.  Thank you.

This blog will be about the people of Liverpool – primarily the locals and the implants, but occasionally its visitors.  I love this place.  It’s my adopted city; I came here as a grad student and liked the character of the place and its people so much that I’ve decided to stay.

I will be writing about the extraordinary stories of “everyday” people in Liverpool.  The city is teeming with them; you can’t spit without hitting one – not that I’m a spitter.  Take for instance a certain lecturer who taught on me on my my science fiction MA.  He says he’s from Wirral but I think he’s actually from somewhere much further away – not of this world – and some of his emails suggest this, too.  Then there’s my friend’s dad, Mick, who has had an internal defibrillator connected to his heart and he has quite a tale to tell; until they adjusted the machine, it kept on shocking him when his heart was still pumping quite adequately, thank you very much.  At the church I sometimes attend there’s an elderly lady in her nineties who sits in the front row and good-naturedly heckles the priest – all four feet of her.  She’s inspiring just to sit next to, so I hope she’ll agree to let me interview her.

So as soon as I get one of my people of interest to say yes, I’ll be up and running.

Let me end by echoing the words of the writer of the Second Book of Maccabees: ‘If it is well composed and to the point, that is just what I wanted.  If it is trashy and mediocre, that is all I could manage.’ (2 Maccabees 15:38)

Lois Brown

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