It’s April, and Spring, and everywhere there are the signs of new beginnings. I am looking out at a chilly sea, with sailing boats whizzing by and participants in the race no doubt feeling wild and exhilarated. A few days ago, the giant form of the aircraft carrier, the Queen Elizabeth, sailed by incredibly close to our sea wall. I could see the faces of the lads on deck, waving as they passed. Up close and personal, the ship is mighty, but from afar it looks a mere speck. Today the tulips have been flattened by the fierce East winds, and the sea is pewter with large and agitated waves. I hope the racing sailors are hanging on tight.

Malaysia seems so far away, but when I look at the photos of those last few weeks, I can still taste the curry sauce on the roti and the sharp taste of the fresh lime drinks and the fresh coconuts.

My talk to promote my books went well, and we did have the venue we wanted. Our friend Ming helped us out with stools so people were not subjected to sitting on the floor mats. People were kind and I talked about why I had written such a diverse range of titles for my books. John was in charge of projecting onto the wall the appropriate photographs illustrating key times in my life, from school days on Penang Hill, and the rubber plantations of 1950s Malaya where I had set Where the Golden Oriole Sang,  and then life in Glenelg where I spent 12 years of my life making up stories which became The Highland Games and The Highland Rocks before finally settling down in Edinburgh. The Moon in the Banyan Tree and all the pictures of the time I had spent in northern Vietnam brought back so many memories. It was a good afternoon, and many people could relate to so much of what I had talked about, especially The Fish in the Tree, which is set in Kuching and Kota Kinabalu.

And now we are back and I have a list so long of things that I need to do. I need to rearrange my winter and summer clothes and clean and tidy my spices cupboard. I need to plant out the new seedlings, polish my silver jewellery, tidy my make-up, make a Simnel cake, go on a bike ride and try and arrange a Pilates or yoga class. I am worn out just looking at my list. Instead, I usually sit down and play a mindless game on my phone to calm my nerves. It is exhausting being me. I am nearly finished reading the Bible (for the second time). This New English edition is easier than the King James version, and I finished the New Testament a while ago, but I came to Ezekial 18 the other day and was stopped in my tracks. He was writing 2000 years before Christ was born, yet his message was the same as Christ’s. So much of the Old Testament describes doom and gloom, and if you stray then that is IT. But not so in Chapter 18… It says that if you give up your wicked ways and return to the path, you shall not be doomed, none of the offences shall be remembered against you. God said, ‘Would I not rather that you should mend your ways and live.’  I am changing the words a bit, but it really is the forerunner of what the New Testament message is. I feel all the better for that.

I have had the most wonderful time lately. I had my lovely friend Gerry from Kenya stay for five days. I do love her company. We strolled around the Japanese Gardens which were very tranquil and beautiful. We read the history and learnt how it had been wilfully sabotaged and destroyed by school kids in the 1960s. After lying desecrated and full of weeds for 30-40 years it has been lovingly restored with the help of a Japanese landscape architect, and now it has regained its beauty once more. I can only complain about the lunch in their café – it would have been more imaginative if we had had the option of sushi or something.

Anyway, Gerry was fun, and we drove about and walked in the sunshine. Now she has gone back home to Kenya for a while.

I have caught up with friends; Irene gave me some tadpoles which I am nurturing … another job. I must remember to defrost the lettuce they like to eat. Freezing it gets rid of the nasty chlorophyl apparently. I had a good day out with other friends, catching up with their news of families and travels, and I am fortunate to have so many in my life who are such kind and warm and funny women. Across the table as we drink coffee, I look at their faces, listen to their ailments, matching them to my own, and we all seem to be weathering the years and seem to have kept our good humour. It’s good.

I did have a week of Granny duties in Wales during the Easter break. As usual I had such a good time and we swam, walked, made our own shampoo, made home-made garlic pesto and even walked up a mountain in heavy mist. Natasha said to me, ‘Look, there’s a man coming out of the fog there, he looks as though he’s carrying a cross.’ Imagine our surprise. He was. He’d carried a crucifix up the mountain and erected it so it would be seen far and wide and from the motorway. He’s been climbing up that hill at 3 p.m. every year at Easter for the last 30 years! It was quite a sight.

I came back and finished knitting my jumper; it looks quite nice but had a horrible pattern. I put it (the pattern not the jumper) straight in the bin afterwards. Since coming back from Kuching, John and I have big plans. Most importantly is getting fit and going cycling and swimming. He does have his own challenge ahead as his two super-fit sons want him to cycle the 100 miles along the South Downs Way in Sussex with them later this year, so he does have a goal to aim for.  I don’t!  But we did sit down to plan our new regimes full of  good intentions, but instead we tentatively planned  a trip to Ireland which hopefully would coincide with James Joyces’ Ulysses day, 16^th June, Bloomsday, then later maybe a trip down to the south of England and maybe another little trip to France and of course we would continue the long walks up the Fife coast and possibly camping on the Outer Hebrides. It was another case of being worn out with lots of plans and our quick chat ended up going on for about four hours.

The sun is now shining, and the pewter sea has turned a dubious blue. The sailing boats are still dashing about and the outside is beckoning. We should go out and become part of the great outdoors. A brisk walk past the bluebells and the vibrant yellow gorse and soft tones of the primroses and violets. I love it all, and the newness of the leaves, and the optimism of new saplings happily taking root in the most unlikely of places, full of optimism, unaware that they are growing out of a fallen tree trunk, or between discarded railway sleepers amongst nettles and dandelions. No matter, Spring is here, and everything gets a new chance to grow.