Feeling the heat

Heatwave and associated electrical stormy stuff has been having far-reaching results. Yesterday one was electrical trouble at Glyndebourne. The air-conditioning was one of the casualties; Tom & colleagues played in their shirt-sleeves. And my cousin found herself temporarily stuck in the lift. Hope all will be well today for the dress rehearsal of Prokofiev's 'Betrothal in a Monastery'.

Meanwhile I went to Paris for the day to interview a Russian conductor, ended up cradling in my lap an object that had once belonged to Rachmaninov and returned home with a bag of French cheeses that, though wrapped in layer upon layer of cooling, sniff-proof material, still attracted a few interesting glances on the train.

Fact of the week: Bertillon, the classiest ice-cream joint in Paris, is closed for the summer. Marketing logic, anyone?

Just listen to this!

Follow this link and hear track 26. Then try tracks 14-16. If you still haven't grabbed a copy by then...

"All this music is steeped in perfumes, emotions and memories of a generous land. Each song subtly distils a serene melancholy which has the flavour of life itself and the consciousness of the passage of time" - Cecilia Scalisi

The title is Canciones Argentinas; the performers are Bernarda and Marcos Fink (sister & brother) and pianist Carmen Piazzini; the whole is to die for. I started listening to it this morning and am now playing it through for the 3rd time in a row.

How to cheer up

No sooner had I vanished into gloom and depression over the state of the outside world yesterday than my own situation brightened suddenly and considerably. My wonderful agent produced the news that I've got my first overseas deal: my second novel, due out with Hodder next spring, has been snaffled for translation by a publisher in Amsterdam! We cracked open some bubbly.

Meanwhile the progress of RITES OF SPRING continues to be encouraging: The Book Place has picked it out in its choice of new popular fiction. It's also in the Amazon 3-for-2 special offer, rubbing shoulders with many wonderful books including two of my recent favourites (Sarah Dunant's 'The Birth of Venus' and Diana Evans's '26A').

Official paperback release date is now less than two weeks away...

Last but not least, I've just signed a second two-book deal with Hodder. Op.3 is already taking shape. And Op.4? Well, watch this space. The pace is intense - a book a year - and that one will probably be happening before you can say "Joanna Trollope".

Dear friends, please forgive me for blowing my own trumpet today. I've spent my whole life working towards becoming a 'proper' novelist and I'm still finding it difficult to believe that such an amazing chance has come my way.

If this man was a tenor...

...he'd probably be Juan Diego Florez. The effect is a little similar. While Nadal was mopping his brow, obsessively tossing one ball aside and giving grunts that could have been heard across Wimbledon Common, Federer stayed as cool as a glass of Pimms, delivering shots so perfect that they could make your heart sing just like Florez's high notes. Even mine, and I'm not the sportiest gal on the globe.

Watching the Wimbledon final live was totally different from watching on the TV. First, we weren't prepared for the noise when the players walked on, being used to concert applause from 2,000 rather than sports applause from 13,000. Next, the small screen simply can't convey what it must be like to have a 130-mile-an-hour serve flying straight for you, or what a feat it truly is to return some of those high-note shots. During some of the rallies, I had to hold my breath. I'd never expected to be so riveted. At this level, sport does become an inspired art.

Having seen Wimbledon on TV so many times, it was great to discover that it's real; the atmosphere was fantastic, the band of the Royal British Legion was an added treat, and it was, I must say, all extremely civilised. A fantastic experience.

The crowd backed Nadal, and he certainly put up a good fight, at least after the first set. Federer wasn't infallible, but at least that proved he was human. Above, Federer serves for the championship, photographed by the Tomcat (who maybe should have a new career as sports cameraman).

Advantage Jess & Tom

It's the biggest sporting day of the year - possibly of the decade - with the World Cup Final tonight and the Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Championship men's singles final this afternoon. And by some mysterious quirk of fate, Tom and I are GOING to Wimbledon!!!

Will report back after the event. Off to buy provisions now...