Since November 2009Author Article: Jo Rees
August 26th, 2010 by Chloe
After reading and review Jo Rees’ latest book Forbidden Pleasures, Jo offered to write us an author article based on her experiences of seeing people reading her books, and it makes for fun reading! Here it is, enjoy!
Beach Reading by Jo Rees
Every summer, we decamp – my husband and writing partner, Emlyn Rees, me and our three daughters – to our tumble down finca here in Mallorca. It’s seriously rustic - ‘camping with brick’ we call it - and totally different from our UK life, but we all love it.
In theory, the days should float by having long lunches under the trees and reading by the pool. In reality, I do lots of cleaning and trips to the supermarket and when we don’t have guests, Emlyn and I are always embarking on some new DIY odyssey. This year we’ve drained and painted the pool and started the huge task of sanding the shutters.
Occasionally though, the kids remind us that they’re on holiday and we jump in the car to take them to the beach.
I always marvel at how many families go for beach holidays here in Mallorca and seem to love the whole thing, because personally, I find beach trips really stressful. From the second we arrive, it’s carnage. Clothes are flung everywhere as the kids wrestle into their bikinis and I trot around after them squirting sun-cream and muttering about hats and sunglasses and armbands as they slither out of my grasp into the water.
Within seconds they’re back with a barrage of questions: Can I have my flippers/goggles/bucket/spade/towel? Can I have an ice-cream/drink/fishing net? Can we get a banana boat ride/slide-pedalo/sun-lounger? Will you look after my crab/shells/OMG what is that?
I settle each demand and think about how I might get comfy and finally open my book, but guess what? The towel-draggers are hungry and they want the picnic I’ve bought in the cool box. And thus begins the hell of making sandwiches. Thus called because I turn into a witch and everything I produce is full of sand.
But being hot and sweaty and covered in sticky melon juice is nothing compared to the private ego bashing that the beach trip involves at this time of year. Because everywhere you look, people are reading books and I can’t help but pathetically hope that one of them is reading my book.
But yesterday on the beach, I’m pleased to report that I had my first Forbidden Pleasures spot of the summer.
‘Six o’clock, six o’clock,’ I stage-whispered. ‘Don’t turn round.’ But of course, the whole family did.
‘High five, Mum,’ my eldest said, spotting my book jacket, but I can’t high five her, because I’m mid ham sandwich.
‘If you say anything, we’re leaving,’ warns Emlyn.
‘I won’t,’ I say, blushing.
I once asked a woman on the beach who was reading ‘We Are Family’ – one of the books Emlyn and I wrote together - whether she was enjoying it, and Emlyn was so embarrassed, he spent the rest of the day in the sea.
‘She looks like she’s enjoying it, though,’ I say.
‘She’s topless,’ the middle one says, peering closely at the girl.
‘So that rules out you taking a photo and putting it on Facebook,’ Emlyn says.
He knows me so well.
‘I could just say hello,’ I say.
‘You could,’ says the eldest. ‘But most authors don’t have blue feet.’
I look down. My feet are indeed covered in pool paint.
‘Don’t ruin the magic, eh love,’ Emlyn says, laughing, as the mayonnaise drops off the knife into my lap.
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