- Marian Keyes (born 10 September 1963) is an Irish novelist and non-fiction writer, best known for her work in women's literature. She is an Irish Book Awards winner. Over 22 million copies of her novels have been sold worldwide and her books have been translated into 32 languages.
- By clicking SUBSCRIBE, I consent to you using my details to send me Marian Keyes newsletters. Follow on Twitter. Old Vumman gets a new phone! Hello there and welcome to my November news, which may be brief because I am PONCHOED. Like giantly knackered.
- The Author Marian Keyes is holding a four week, online Novel writing class, at the moment (January 2021). If you miss the live sessions (which I have) you can catch up with it on her YouTube channe.
- Ahead of the anniversary, Marian took to Twitterto commemorate her big day. ‘TWENTY-FIVE years since Himself and meself tied the knot. I am the luckiest person I ever met. He is the VERY BEST of all the people, the kindest man alive, my utter and always favourite,’ she posted to fans.
Hello, I’m back! And so is Autumn! Hello there, welcome to my shiny new website and I hope it is to your liking. It’s been a while since I’ve done a newsletter and my apologies for that, but the plan is that I’ll do one every two months for the foreseeable and maybe even one every month but we’ll have to ‘monitor’ things a bit.
I wake at about 4.20am and lie in the dark worrying that people I love are going to catch Covid and die. Now that it has my attention my subconscious offers up a couple of the more embarrassing episodes of my life and I burn with shame. Eventually I tire of this and when I start hearing the first buses, go back to sleep.
I wake again at around 8am and drink the coffee Himself made for me about two and a half hours earlier when he got up to go for a long run in the cold and the dark. (We are very different people, Himself and I.) We live in the Dublin coastal town of Dun Laoghaire. Calling it a ‘coastal town’ makes it sound nicer than it actually is.
As part of my morning ritual, there are a couple of books of inspirational quotes in the drawer beside my pillow.
I completely ignore them and instead go on Twitter and doomscroll for some time. Handily this reminds me to take my daily antidepressant.
My breakfast is porridge and pretend-Greek yoghurt - it’s hard to get genuine Greek yoghurt in our ‘coastal town’. All of my breakfast details get input into the app which helps my eating ‘stay accountable.’ It’s something I started in the long-ago days of Lockdown One when 'Anxiety Eating' intersected with 'Boredom Eating' and things got very dark, very quickly.
This is also vitamin time, I own several medicinal-looking, brown-glass jars of them. However the smell is so noxious that usually I can’t go through with it. But that’s okay, everyone knows the most effective part of vitamins is buying them.
Next I ring my mother to check that she didn’t die in the night, then it’s time to start work. I repair to The Room of Pain (the spare bedroom), switch on the computer, light a candle and ‘begin’. And by ‘begin’, I mean, stare at the screen and marvel at my hubris. How did I ever think I could write a book. A whole book! The wisdom of my friend Posh Kate, comes to mind: ‘How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time!’ All this talk of eating and biting reminds me of food so I go downstairs and eat a protein bar, which is chocolate-flavoured fakery repackaged as something virtuous. Nevertheless, I enjoy it. I neglect to input it into my app.
Back to work. Words appear, in fits and starts. Most of them get deleted. Then! The doorbell! It’s either Steve the DHL man or Johnny my lovely postman! I’m an enthusiastic online shopper at the best of the times, but things turbo’d up fast when lockdown kicked in. I stand on the doorstep and yell socially-distanced pleasantries with whichever man it is. They are my closest friends.
![Keyes Keyes](/uploads/1/3/7/2/137276127/498388268.jpg)
I return to work, pausing now and again for some light despair, then the news comes on in the kitchen, which means it’s 1pm sharp. (Himself is very much a creature of habit. I adore this about him.) Lunch is more porridge. I cannot stress how much I love porridge. Of all the foods, it’s the most uncelebrated. It deserves better, a lot better.
The porridge gets input into my app, more doom-scrolling follows, then it’s back to work.
Install Oracle VM VirtualBox on Windows. First and foremost, pull up the VirtualBox.
In this article, I am going to show you how to install macOS Mojave on VirtualBox on Windows using the ISO image. If you are interested in Apple’s new Mac operating system macOS 10.14 Mojave and want to try it, then you are in the right place because here you will find any kind of files that you will need to install macOS Mojave on VirtualBox. Create Fixed-Size Disks Over Dynamic Ones. A virtual machine can slowly function.
![Geek rar mojave virtualbox windows 10](/uploads/1/3/7/2/137276127/150386134.jpg)
The afternoon is for Any Other Business – writing articles, catching up on research, that sort of thing. Instead, I do a few sudokus, read several 'Am I The Asshole?' stories and WhatsApp my brother Tadhg, pleading for photos of his children (they’re six, three and one). Then I ring my mother, who assures me that, “I’m still not dead.” I praise her for this. (Positive affirmation is so important.)
Around 5pm, I crave ‘something nice’. Himself keeps stashes of sweets hidden around the house. He gives me three Percy Pigs. I eat them and input them into my app. I ask him for three more. I eat them. These ones I do not input into the app.
Finally, it’s 6pm, my favourite part of the day because I can stop pretending to work and can legitimately focus on food. The one good thing that’s come from The Current Unpleasantness is that Himself and I have started making exciting dinners, consulting cookbooks by Nigella, Nigel Slater and even – yes! – Ottolenghi!
After our thrilling dinner, it’s time for Murder In The Snow. We are devoted to telly-shows about killings committed in cold countries.
Recently we’ve had The Valhalla Murders, The Arctic Murders and Nordic Murders. Sometimes we mix things up and watch murders in warmer countries, such as France or Senegal. Around 9.30pm, I consult my app and make the delightful discovery that I’ve got a couple of hundred calories ‘spare’, so Himself produces chocolate from one of his hidden stashes, then I go to bed, planning to read an improving book.
But first, Zara!
After a lengthy browse, I ring my mother. We discuss what we had for our respective dinners, she promises me that she won’t die in the night, then I take my melatonin. The recommended dose is two. I usually take four. Or six on a bad night.
Then I close my eyes and launch straight into an anxiety dream where I’m packing in a terrible hurry to escape from some unnamed danger.
This was first published in Marian's newsletter, which is emailed to subscribers every month. You can sign up to her mailing list here. Her latest novel, Grown Ups, is available now.
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