Last Updated : April 2018
Name: Sarah Anne Reeson. I remain confident enough to keep that up here. Thinking about it, there’s less concern with each passing day.
Date of Birth: Scorpio by just over 90 seconds. Two years and waggles hand seven and bit months older than Daniel Craig. When the next Bond is younger than him, everybody’s in trouble. Shouldn’t have long to wait now to see how that turns out either.
Do the franchise proud, Danny Boyle.
Place of Birth: England. Essex Girl. However, you’re all the ones with the better accents, just so we’re clear. It is no surprise I’ll be shoehorning in my heritage with increasing regularity as time goes on.
Education: Probably ruined me. Life outside College was undoubtedly the best thing that ever happened. Flirting with Further Education was beneficial, but brain still won’t escape the ‘Failing my A levels’ anxiety dream after many decades, so most efforts at betterment are undoubtedly doomed to failure. Remembering all the useless crap and maths problems still make me nervous, and only now can mental arithmetic be completed with confidence.
Training in Radio Production finally started a chain of events which have brought me here. I didn’t stuff everything up that badly, when all is said and done. Now, however, the words are my life, existing almost permanently in their thrall, and would not have it any other way.
Family: Eldest boy, youngest girl. Perpetually patient and long-suffering husband. If you’ve not grasped, this is me hiding from everyone else. Don’t tell them where I am.
Enjoys: Gamer since mid 1970’s. Movies (genre bias, spy obsession, large spaceships and tortured central characters.) TV was a thing, but then they invented On Demand and I’ve never caught up since, though some basic efforts are now being made to address the backlog. Hiding all over Social Media. Left Facebook and Instagram and haven’t looked back. Technology is sometimes uncomfortable, making me the ideal candidate for Family Sysadmin.
The biggest single influence in life remains music, and that’s why a refusal exists to write about it until good and ready. Those repressed issues are blossoming like summer flowers, with the most amazing smells and colours as accompaniment. After many hundreds of thousands of words plus two novel-length love letters to my genre hero, the First Novel [TM] is being read by other people for the first time. Let’s see if we can’t get the damn thing published.
Some serious shit is going down. Strap in.
Exercise: This bit is new. It never bothered me, now mind can’t live without regular cycling, running or weights. The endorphins provive better therapy than has ever been offered or taken, and combined with Mindfulness it has transformed huge swathes of existence.
Places of Interest: Paris. London. New York. Should probably try Munich at some point to keep Robin Scott happy. Boston was nice, and having tried the West Coast? Yosemite was the highlight, though riding a tandem across the Golden Gate Bridge came a close second. Still love New York more. Small Woman on Mulberry Street? FUCK YEAH. Remain not a great traveller, but it works out when I get there. Eventually. This year it’s Italy, in a van, with inevitable cycling thrown in.
Ask Me a Question: I hate those anonymous ‘Ask me Anything’ things on t’Internets. If it matters enough, stick your name here for the most brutally honest of responses.