AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: PLAY 'FIVE QUESTIONS' DATE: 2:59 PM ----- BODY:

The following interview with me consists of five questions chosen by Black Rat from whose blog I lifted the idea. If you want to play too, it works like this: 1. Leave a comment on my blog saying you want to be interviewed. 2. I will respond and ask you five questions. 3. You'll update your blog with my five questions, and your five answers. 4. You'll include this explanation. 5. You'll ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed. Here are the 5 questions Black Rat asked me (I knew he would ask 'difficult' questions, lol), together with my answers:

1. Paint a picture of yourself in words.

Are we talking about what I look like or who I am? The first would be much easier to do. Blonde hair, fair skin, dark eyes, I look younger than I am, so I have been told. 5'4" just about, I have small bones on which every extra pound looks like two, much to my chagrin. My hands and wrists are tiny, which makes it very difficult to get my favourite jewellery (bracelets) to fit properly. Rings are easier because they can be altered. To describe who I am is much more difficult. I am a person of extremes. I love or hate, I am happy or sad, enthusiastic or uninterested. Emotional or numb. The middle ground is unfamiliar territory to me. I love cats, jazz, blues, good wine and delicious food. Books, poetry, art, writing and beautiful things. I am driven to constantly learn, to explore intellectually and I have a history of failing any kind of examination. I love being warm, hate being cold and am fascinated by colour. I'm a hoarder, a magpie, spontaneous. I have a habit of giving away my possessions and things I have made. I am childish. I crave affection and security. I can be playful, mischievous, or silly depending on how you look at things. I think to much and do too little. 2. Describe an idyllic 24 hours. I rise early, shower, then sit in the garden to eat my breakfast. Real coffee, proper fruit juice and toast spread with bitter-sweet marmalade. As I read the papers, I glance up occasionally to enjoy the warmth of the early morning sun on my face or to pet which ever one of my cats is demanding attention. I know that there is a full day ahead, but there is no rush, I have plenty of time. Once my meal is over and the dishes done, it is time to sit at the computer and begin working. First todays blog entry, then what? Work on my poetry? Write a new short story? Or maybe today will be a day for painting, for loosing myself amongst brightly coloured pastels that dust my hands as I draw. Which ever I chose, I work confidently, with no guilt about 'wasting time' or not doing a 'proper job'. Hours vanish without notice. How many times has that happened to me in reality when writing or drawing? Too many to count. There is no tension, no tiredness, no depression when concentration becomes purely focused in that way. Even time disappears. Perhaps it is the sound of a telephone ringing that brings me back to reality. A friend calling for a chat or my sister to arrange an evening out some time soon. Not tonight, though. Because tonight I am meeting someone. I still have some free time before I need to get ready so I grab some fruit to make a late lunch then settle down in the garden to read. An old favourite or something new? It doesn't matter, there is plenty of both to chose from. Later, in the early evening, I shower once again and change my clothes. A red silk dress, the fabric soft and rippling. I have always wanted a red silk dress. If I still don't own such a thing, then at the very least I will wear red shoes with whatever outfit I do chose. Those I do have. Someone once told me that every woman should own a pair of red shoes and she was right. I meet him in town. In a quiet bar where we have one drink before going on to... Where shall we go? To the theatre to see a play or maybe a ballet. Why not to the opera? I have never been and I would so like to see a production of Carmen. I know the music off by heart. Afterwards, supper of course. Somewhere where a piano plays in the background and there is a small, intimate dance floor. We would talk and laugh a lot. Comfortable and at ease with each other. Sometimes the conversation would be of serious things, politics or philosophy, the arts. Other times the small things that connect people to each other. Mutual friends, daily happenings, shared jokes. Now it is late. The sky peppered with stars. Time to go home. In a perfect world, we would walk along the shore. Empty except for us and a handful of others who are also drawn to the sea at night. There would be no need to talk. Just to smile and hold hands. To enjoy the evening. Once home, we would have a night cap, close the curtains and leave the rest of that idyllic 24 hours to your imagination! 3. Your most memorable night. Heck! Black Rat! After the last rather over imaginative fantasy real life memories rather fade into insignificance. Let me think... Why is it so much easier to remember the sting of sadness rather than the ache of happiness? Twice, in recent years, I have kept a deathwatch. First at my grandmother's side and then my mother's. Both evenings remain vivid and detailed in my memory, as if they had been recorded on video. Twice I have watched over a baby in a hospital ward, the first time my eldest daughter, the second, my son. Each time, their illness was a physical pain in my body. Yet there are happier memories that stand out. My first night with MJ when he knocked a pint of beer over me and I got my revenge when the sofa bed (the nearest thing to a double bed I had at the time), unexpectedly catapulted him onto the floor! Walking along a Cornish beach by moonlight. A light rain encouraging complaints from my children as they tried to shelter beneath the cliff. Watching with disapproval as I played along the beach. Allowing the sea to soak my feet and the hem of my skirt. I could see the lights of the town shining across the bay and watched a ship sail by. Distance making it look like a toy. Then there is the night my first child was born. Drenched in emotions I have no words for, I stayed awake all night. The ward was on the top floor of a tower block and I was the only 'patient'. I stood looking out of a huge window, watching as darkness faded slowly into daylight and the sun regained its strength. I could see nothing below me. Mist rolled and drifted like clouds. It was as if I were suspended between the sky. Paused between the past and the future. The baby I had carried for nine months was no longer physically part of my body, yet I felt no separation. Some thing in me changed that night. I had a daughter. 4. Reveal a secret about yourself not previously disclosed. Are there any left? LOL! OK, my real name is Michelle, will that do? 5. Your three most positive traits. This is one of those questions best answered by someone else, but after some thought, I would say loyalty, curiosity and passion. All of which are also amongst my most negative traits.

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