helencareybooks

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Archive for the tag “Pembrokeshire”

Happy Christmas

xmas bullfinchI would like to wish a VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS to all my friends, readers and blog followers.

2018 has been a good year for me on the writing front, with lots of acclaim for my wartime LAVENDER ROAD novels, and several of them hitting the best seller charts. All six books are now out as paperbacks, eBooks and audio books worldwide.

For those of you who have read the Lavender Road books there is still the option to have a go at SLICK DEALS, the adventure thriller I wrote a while back to amuse my husband, which is set in Monaco, France, London and lovely Pembrokeshire where we live. For the more romantic of you there is also THE ART OF LOVING, a light romance set in Germany, which launched my writing career so many years ago by getting me short-listed for the RNA new writer award!

Many of you will know that we spent 12 years or so caring for my mother who was suffering with Alzheimer’s, and then, as soon as she had died, for two elderly dogs. Sadly both of these have also now left us. Our house suddenly feels very empty so we have decided to do some of the travelling that we’ve been unable to do over recent years. To that end we are setting off in January for a two and a half month voyage to Australia, taking in the Azores, the Caribbean, Panama Canal, Mexico, Guatemala, French Polynesia (including the Marquesas Islands), Tonga and New Zealand on the way. I am afraid not very much writing is going to get done during that time, but I will be posting photos on my Twitter and Facebook pages and perhaps one of our adventures will give rise to a new novel in the future!

In the meantime I wish you all health and happiness for the New Year and I will be back in touch later on in 2019.

All best wishes, Helen

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UK covers combined US titles together

AOL0-600       slick deals REVISE5.Biggerslick.deb

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A poem for St David’s Day by Marc Mordey

My Angels were Singing – a poem for St David’s Day by Marc Mordey

 I stood near the house

where Grace once lived,

My angels were singing.

I watched as birds

and daffodils dived.

My angels were singing.

It’s spring and the sun

bursts fat and alive.

And my angels were singing.

Old crow, silhouetted against Carningli rock,

purple shadowed on blackened burnt bracken,

gorse and heather reeling :

the after shock.

But my angels were singing, still.

As seagulls wheeled across the bay,

catching sea breezes,

tumbling at will.

The Irish Sea lies beneath

becalmed and silvered blue,

and my angels were singing.

Wales’ favourite saint remembered

the new season breaks forth, springing,

flowers dancing, church bells – ringing.

His angels – singing.

Seasons, people, live and die,

here and now is for the living.

But remember those you love or loved –

do try.

And let your angels be singing.

Let your angels be singing.

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