My Queen is Dead

My Queen is Dead

I’m so sad.

My gran passed away yesterday – those of you who follow my Twitter or know me may have gleaned that she is my hero.

She is *was ๐Ÿ™ the absolute epitome of F I E R C E.

The matriarch to my sister and I, we’d together do her shopping/cleaning/gardening she ruled the roost and held our hearts.

It was during those times when I’d grumpily drag out the bloody lawn mower (she would not let us pay for a gardener – who wants a rotten stranger in the garden, no no) – while cutting the already perfect grass that my ideas would flow. It was where plot holes in my stories were worked out, or sales pitches made, or even working through invention designs. As soon as I fired it up, my grumps were gone and my brain engaged. Like a Pavlov inventing dog.

And who was always to the first to hear these ideas? My gran.

She was my armchair cheerleader – she was the first to see my Ruby Glow finally in its whole form, the first to be given a copy of any new books – (not that she read them ๐Ÿ˜€ ๐Ÿ˜€ filth)

I love her so much for letting me share my work with her and accepting everything I did with love and enthusiasm. And humour – she was absolutely hysterical.

“So what do you do at these conferences?” She’d ask and I’d tell tales of giant silicon cocks the size of men, and whips and vibrators and fake pussies and she’d just ask, “Oh, and folk like that sort of thing do they?”

One of the highlights was on one of our regular jaunts to the shops – I did my usual tweet ‘glamour above all things in Lidl’ and LIDL LIKED IT!!! #goals #MissionAccomplished

She was loving and brusque, judgemental and accepting, strong and opinionated, soft and caring, she’d feed and look after us and I’m absolutely fucking devastated that my Queen is dead.

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