My All-American Heroes

For the last few months I've been carefully watching three of American politics' finest representatives preventing wars by cajoling, swearing at and terrifying world leaders while catching traitors through the power of true American patriotism, a handy set of circumstances and skilful writers. Not to mention the in-fighting, family crises, sex in the war room, Principal Figgins morphing into General Zaman, Téa Leoni's numerous awful blouses and embarrassing Press Secretary Mike's dyed moustache...

Hanging on in there: Veep Press Secretary Mike McLintock

Throw in Donald Trump, like the political bomb he is, under all of  the above in one real-life fly-on-the-wall documentary, and you probably have a realistic idea of what current American politics is all about. I am, of course, talking about satires VEEP and THE BRINK, and the serious West Wing wannabe MADAM SECRETARY.

The Brink's Secretary of State Walter Larson: Because he's definitely worth it

After a while all three begin to blur as you spend your time remembering which minor character is in which show ("I'm sure I've seen him in both The Brink and Madam Secretary, or was he in Veep and The Brink or Madam Secretary and Veep??"), but with The Brink and Veep having such strong writers it doesn't really matter. Exaggerations they may be, but throw in a heavy dose of Mad Sec (not sure about this abbreviation but hey!) and it's likely you've nailed the American political scene. Those taking a sadistic interest in Australian politics may agree there should be an Australian version - if you think the US is cut-throat then I'd kill (a traitor) to see Kevin Rudd and Julia Gillard lampooned in fictional Veep-style mockumentary The Party Room...

The sharpest - and shiniest - specs on TV: Elizabeth McCord IS Madam Secretary

Both Mad Sec and The Brink have sometimes pugnacious, other times inept and plain stupid Presidents, but while in The Brink this is meant to be heavily tongue-in-cheek to give our hero Walter Larson more leverage in the climatic final episode, I can't help but wonder in Mad Sec if it is purposeful or not. 

Mad Sec's President Dalton: Possibly the worst US President in TV - and actual - history.

Still, I have a huge affection for it because of Téa Leoni, who does a great job in the title role against a slightly lame supporting cast and an often dodgy script. She is Madam Secretary, both in character and the whole show, and although her methods aren't the unconventional approach to negotiation as Larson's, they seek similar outcomes, and surely it's the resolution that matters most? Larson's appetite for women (any women, it seems, but in the end his wife in full view of the Israeli PM, ahh...), Selina Meyer's insecurities and Elizabeth McCord's trauma after a terrorist attack give them a realistic edge. All three series show that as America builds to 2016's presidential race politics can be just as enticing in fiction as zombies, alien invasions and epidemics.

Selina Meyer: Larson's soul-mate and the best presidential one-liners on TV

But Tim Robbin's Secretary of State against Téa Leoni's in a war of words, or an actual war? And what if Meyer was running the world (into the ground) in the middle of it all? If I had the time I might go back to my fan fiction days and write a mash-up, but for now I'm hoping in their respective season twos they, like Meyer, end up with the top jobs. If Veep didn't need to change its name, why should Mad Sec? And a President Larson who would make JFK look almost monk-like? Oh, yes, yes, YES, Mr President! 

A fly infiltrates Parliament and other triviality...

On my way home a few days ago, walking the ten minutes from work to Waterloo station as I dodged the dozens of selfie sticks, I pondered one thing: how on earth had there been a fly in my office? The windows in Portcullis House don’t open (the words ‘bulletproof’ and ‘safety’ are probably something to do with it), the doors slam shut each time you go through them with such finality the walls literally shake, and there are no gaps in the panelling. But somehow one tiny bluebottle made it through.

I should've swatted the little bugger Obama-style...

It defied the odds to either fly through the revolving doors (assuming it came through with a human and didn’t push them itself), bypass the airport-style security, fly through another set of revolving doors, up four flights of stairs (or up in the lift if it was feeling lazy) then brazenly enter the office when quite obviously either me, my boss or the postman weren’t looking. It could have come up the escalator leading from the Colonnade, which leads into Portcullis House from the outside, but either way it showed security can be breached by even the simplest of creatures, so perhaps the men with the big guns (I can’t say I’ve seen any women here with them) ought to keep a better look out.

Then it was gone. How was the fly GONE? I refer to my earlier observations about the room, but this time nobody had come or gone in between noticing its existence and its sudden exit. It was a puzzle worthy of Holmes and Watson, or, more famously, Castle and Beckett. Maybe it had flown through the ridiculously placed air vents in the carpet, but it was unlikely. I never saw it again. Perhaps it got what it came for and disintegrated in a tiny explosion so small it was beyond human hearing because it was a drone fake fly – a robot – fixed with a tiny camera, filming the inner workings of Parliament while its evil master watched on a large screen in a bunker while cackling to themselves that the Mother of Parliaments would soon be obliterated (I’m thinking more Baron Greenback or Doctor Claw to fit in with the mood of the article rather than anything more serious and relevant to in today's security-conscious world).

Inspector Gadget literally couldn't hurt a fly...

But, of course, I am simply writing irrelevance, as the fly is a whimsical distraction from the other, rather more major problem Parliament faces: the place is falling down, riddled with asbestos and generally sinking into the Thames. The Elizabeth Clock Tower is leaning at an ‘inclination of 0.04 degrees’ (although I should add this isn’t a cause for concern, so it shouldn’t fall on top of you while you take your #BigBenSelfie), the fabric of the building is literally crumbling and should there be a fire then those poor souls (of which I was one once) down in the bunker - I mean basement - or up in the Gods, have zero chance. 

The Leaning Tower of (diamond) Geezer

So the options are: move everyone out for six years and cost £3.9 billion, a partial move-out (i.e. Commons then Lords) at a cost of £4.4 billion over 11 years, or everyone stay put and take 32 – yes THIRTY TWO – years, costing £5.7 billion. I don’t know whether the £5.7 billion is because it’s just much slower or they’re taking account of things being far more expensive (relatively) in 32 years than they are now, but I have a feeling which way this whole decision may go. Some have argued that Parliament should just have a modern new building and have the current site as a massive museum, but I suspect that would be doubly expensive.  Besides, I’d miss getting lost every time I tried to get anywhere, the grandiose sense of history when you’re buying your morning croissant and the myriad of oddities such as the curiously named Chess Room. I am sure that is no cold, financial argument for keeping Parliament for what it was intended but it’s my reasoning and I’m sticking to it.

But I digress from the fly, talking about significant matters rather than the triviality of a fly’s potentially perilous journey. Perhaps that’s what the creature – or its master - is banking on. 

In praise of good customer service (yes, there is such a thing!).

A while ago I visited my local store of a well-known pet chain (although not the most well-known!) with my daughter. I just needed some guinea pig supplies, nipped in to stock up. The manager was there and approached me, and immediately thought I was in for the ‘big sell’ on something I didn’t need, like posh nibbles for pets already over-indulged on their greens. But I was pleasantly surprised by the manager’s conversation: there was no push to purchase, instead she chatted to my daughter about pets and school, and showed her the meal worms packaged on the shelves. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it made the shopping experience all the more pleasant, with staff who were friendly but not overpowering or pushy. I used to work in a shoe shop, so know how hard it can be to get that balance right, but the pet shop got it spot on. As we left I wondered why all shops couldn’t be like that, then thought why not write to their customer services about how impressed I was with their Winchester store. So I batted off an email, which took all of two minutes. I received a reply not just from customer services but from the Managing Director himself, who thanked me for letting him know and how delighted he was that the service had been so good. He would, of course, let the store in question know about my praise.

We will all complain to companies when we feel they need to improve, whether it be shorter queues or trains running on time (we’ll all want the moon on a stick next!), but do we praise them when they get things right? I suppose most will say that it’s their job to be efficient, why should we thank them for doing what they're paid to do, and that may to an extent be true. But when they go that extra mile, why shouldn’t we feed back our gratitude? Complaining when customer care falls short will, it is hoped, help improve performance in the future, but I think it’s just as important to thank those who have been particularly helpful as this feedback is surely just as essential for customer service improvement. If nobody tells a company that somebody has been particularly helpful, how will they know? Equally, how will they know it can really be appreciated and not just expected?

Yesterday I was commuting home from London when the voice of a guard I recognised from another (identical!) journey the week before came over the tannoy, a guard who is particularly helpful, courteous, informative and professional. So as with the pet shop, I let the train company know that I was singling him out for praise. I have had cause to complain to this particular company through an angry tweet or two (or three) when things have gone wrong, as they do far too often, but it gave me a feeling of happiness to write something positive for a change. And, I can only hope, they do feed my comments back to him as they said they would. I don’t know if customer comments about individuals are used as recognised feedback for assessment purposes, but if they do then I hope I have been of some help. 

I’m not saying don’t complain when it’s needed, only that just a little recognition of those making life a bit more pleasant could go a long way.

Party Games and Power Play - both now 99p!

Although I've blogged separately about my political drama Party Games and its sequel Power Play, I thought now both books are a mere 99p, and everyone is desperately excited about the Labour and Liberal Democrat leadership elections, I'd give my story about the shadowy world of Westminster and power struggles a shout-out in one post.

Although for Amazon purposes my books are labelled as 'political fiction', they are less about the politics itself; there certainly isn't a preachy political message, more a story about people, their failings and their flaws, with politics as the vehicle for the human drama. It is about people working in a stressful, powerful, pressure-cooker world, and how those people react to the environment in which they operate. I firmly agree with House of Cards author Michael Dobbs that “people assume that politicians are a different breed, but they’re not, they’re just in a different place, subjected to different pressures and huge temptations, [but] if we wrote dramas that were all about what a wonderful bunch of guys these are at Westminster, it would be a hard sell.”  Yes, politics can be exhilarating, rewarding, change lives for the better, but it can also be a dirty, nasty, dog-eat-dog business which can corrupt. What better place to set a book or two (or three, as there will be eventually!)?

Party Games 

Rodney Richmond, the young, charismatic yet ultimately insecure Leader of the Opposition, is at a critical time in his leadership. But once his Shadow Cabinet reshuffle turns sour, leaving a sacked Chief Whip out in the cold, events begin to spiral out of his control. Richmond’s leadership rival and deputy sees his opportunity to seize power through a ruthless game of manipulation and blackmail, leaving Richmond battling for the heart and soul of the party – and the woman – he loves.

Will the loyalty of Richmond’s most trusted allies be enough to stop his enemies, or will their attempts to save him lead to tragedy? Set in the heart of Westminster, Party Games is a hotbed of ambition, treachery, friendship, love and passion. Nobody is safe, and everyone must play...

Power Play

Treason is a hanging offence... 

As Conservative Party leader Rodney Richmond lies in a coma, his ambitious deputy Colin Scott vows to force unquestioning loyalty to himself on a party which is at breaking point. Dubbed 'the Führer' by Labour MPs, his core supporters - including a morally conflicted colleague and an obsessed, ruthless advisor - will do anything to get their man, and themselves, to the top. But there is a threat from within, one so determined they will resort to murder before they see Scott fail, and soon civil war erupts among Scott’s most senior lieutenants. 

While the true leader of the so-called 'resistance' remains unconscious, their female rising star emerges to challenge Scott's seemingly unbreakable and brutal authority. 

Power Play continues the theme of corrupting power and infighting at the heart of E J Greenway's first novel, Party Games. It is a wry look at what could happen if a modern day political party, finding itself in Opposition after years in power, embraces a narcissistic maniac who promises to bring it back from the brink at any cost. 

Who would I have to play my characters in a TV adaptation? Well, handily I have thought about this long and hard (as many authors no doubt secretly do!) and come up with a list I adore on Susan Buchanan's blog.

I've also had some lovely reviews, including from fellow authors Terry Tyler, Georgia Rose and Geoffrey West

Gorging on Thrones

NB: SPOILER ALERT FOR GoT NEWBIES!

I am more than a little bit late to the Westeros 'party'. I've resisted for years, both the books and the show, but with Parliament dissolved while something called a general election campaign goes on (and on, and on) I thought I'd give in after a few episodes I could finally say to my GoT-enthusiast husband 'see, told you it wasn't my thing'.

And it isn't my sort of thing at all. I'm now as far as season 3 episode 4, thanks to Sky box sets, and I'm sticking with it in order to prove such a point. I'm watching it quickly on purpose. The body and boob count is piling up, Dany's dragons are growing, Tyrion's coolness knows no bounds, Jaime gets captured repeatedly and the Stark family variety of accents are still all over the place, rather like their bodies. Theon does pathetic wonderfully after stupidly taking over 'Winterhell' (Hot Pie), Sansa does it through increasingly sulky pouts, while you root for Arya and Brann in every (frustrating) scene they're in.

Sexism and often sheer misogyny is, of course, one of the few things which unites all corners of the Seven Kingdoms, but all of the prejudice helps make the main women physically, mentally and - in some cases - politically stronger.  Brienne of Tarth. Margaery, who knows how to play the Game of Thrones better than most of the men. Feisty Shae, for whom I have a bit of a soft spot. The redhead one who isn't in the books but has her boobs out. A LOT. And is probably going to die soon.

Here come the girls: GoT women shaking up Westeros

But GoT's not my thing, as I've said. I don't even have an allegiance. Well, not really. Can I justify supporting Stannis the Mannis just because a) Ned died supporting his arguably rightful claim to the Iron Throne against the Lannister's incest, b) he reminds me of a major character in my own books and c) I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crisps? Must be something to do with all the brooding, the staring into the middle distance and that lightly accented voice rather than the 'fire within him', which sounds more like an STD problem than anything which will crush his enemies.

Colin or Stannis: Plotting to overthrow a political leader or a king?

Ok, despite Daenerys being the coolest character next to Tyrion (maybe they should defy all the political and historical reasons against them, get it together and rule for the sake of pure awsomeness), I should just 'come out' as a Baratheon. Maybe Rasputiny Melisandre is right, perhaps she is a goodie after all and burning effigies and people opposing her is the Right Thing To Do. But, ah Davos, the onion knight, the only Geordie in the Seven Kingdoms, loathes her and her weird fire magic and demon-birthing (well he certainly does in season 3).  Poor pretty boy Renly. Sort of. It's a toughie. But, then again, so is sexy Stannis, and I hear he is still hanging on in there with Jon Snow in season 5. But I am a long way off from that yet, I'm BRW (Before the Red Wedding), and it's been at least two episodes without a Significant Death...

So far, the only lucky sod who's had a happy ending is Hot Pie, the tubby baker's son who wouldn't have a wolf's chance at Casterly Rock faced with a knife to the throat (as the vast majority of characters end up with at one point or another). Somehow I feel he may be the first and last for at least another season or two, or three, or basically forever.

Hot Pie. The only one to achieve anything with his life in GoT so far.

Which brings me to the other unsung heroes who have either perished or possibly will: Hodor, a fan favourite with a cult following, Samwell Tarly, the best Character Without Ambition in the whole show, Yoren (remember him?), Syrio Farel, Jaqen H'ghar (are they the same person??), Maester Luwin (oh, why did he have to die?? Why not fussing, simpering Grand Maester Pycelle?), Ser Rodrik Cassel, with the bushiest sideburns on TV since Amos in Emmerdale, the list is endless. If Sam were king and Hodor his Hand, what a gentler - and possibly wiser - place the Seven Kingdoms would be.

Never mind the battles: my unsung heroes

If you look past the naked women (assuming you want to!) and the bloodlust, the politics and depth of the world is astounding. But, of course, GoT is just not my sort of thing, so I'd better crack on with the rest of season 3 and beyond so I can continue proving my point.

Another picture of Stannis. Because I can. And because he is the one true king. Apparently.

How I've Become A Cat Lady...

After a lengthy adoption process, including a home visit and a mountain of paperwork, we finally were able to collect her. Izzy is now eight months old and adorably sweet, but she can sometimes sleep so much in the day she’s a bit grizzly at night and demands attention, but it’s ok as we’re totally besotted and it’s all been worth it. I am, of course, talking about our kitten, a lovely tabby who adores people and is slightly terrified of the outside world. This includes birds, grass, plant pots and any other perils in the garden.  

Ahh, cute kitty!

 We adopted her through a nearby rescue charity called Happy Cats, run by a dedicated lady called Jo who, while having eight cats of her own, takes in any cat no matter what their history and helps find them suitable ‘forever homes’. It doesn’t end when you take the cat home, Happy Cats provides support throughout the cat’s life and no cat is adopted out until it has been spayed/neutered and wormed.

Izzy came to us after the cat she had been living with kept attacking her, injuring her eye, so her wariness of other animals is to be expected, although our guinea pigs Sooty and Sweep (recently adopted through St Francis Animal Rescue in Eastleigh) are a source of endless fascination.  She loves to play and find mischief, as kittens do, and has such a sweet nature despite her shaky start.

Since becoming a cat owner (or is it ‘adopter’?) I’ve suddenly taken to watching Animal Planet and programmes such as fantasically named cat behaviourist Jackson Galaxy in the utterly American ‘My Cat From Hell’. He helps people with severe cat problems (a bit like Supernanny but with tattoos and a beard), including one idiot who fed his cat junk food, instilled no discipline at all and wondered why his cat was a feral nightmare! He is great and so patient with his clients (by which I mean the people, the cats are never the whole problem!). Anyone with a cat should give him a watch!

Cat behaviourist Jackson Galaxy

Izzy is now firmly a member of our family. As I type I can hear her bell jingling as she finds yet more gaps to squeeze into and more surfaces to jump on. She’s now meowing and crinkling something she shouldn’t be dragging around the kitchen. *sigh*. Best signed off with a ‘thank you’ to Happy Cats, without whom we may never have found her.

How an autistic trampolining club came on Leaps and Bounds...

The last time I wrote on this blog about a good cause was to give publicity to Will Wearmouth’s bike ride to France in aid of the British Legion. Suffice to say Will did amazingly well, achieved his goal with flying colours and raised a fantastic amount in the process.

This time I want to just give a blog (and, I hope, twitter) shout-out to a wonderful trampolining club for autistic children in Liverpool, run by my cousin Stephanie Graston. Leaps and Bounds – formerly JMUpers – was operated by John Moores University, but through Stephanie’s tireless energy and fundraising all the money is now ploughed back into the club. Through her work it has kept its home at I M Marsh, part of the JMU campus, and she has expanded through word of mouth to run a happy, successful and well-loved club with at least 100 children on her books.

I know many of the parents are incredibly grateful for Stephanie’s friendly, relaxed approach, her dedication and above all affection for and understanding of the children at the club and the pressures faced by their families. For many the club is a lifeline where those with similar experiences, so it is not only a chance for the children to gain a huge amount from trampolining (Stephanie is doing an MA into the benefits of trampolining and exercise for autistic children), but it is also a chance for parents to get together. And trampolines aren’t the only activity on offer for the children. With the help of a dedicated team, Stephanie runs parties, trips out and all manner of fundraising activities which includes all children, no matter how severe their autism. In essence, the club has grown over the past few years from a trampolining club into so much more, and I can only be amazed at Stephanie’s endless energy and patience.

So please do pop over to the Leaps and Bounds Facebook page and give it a ‘like’, I know Steph would be really grateful. If ever an example is needed for the Big Society (remember that?) in action, then surely this is one of the best.