Vanessa and Virginia

Vanessa and Virginia is the title of Susan Sellers' latest novel: a fictionalised account of the life of artist, Vanessa Bell and of her complex relationship with her sister, Virginia Woolf.(Two Ravens, 2008 and Harcourt, New York). Susan is Professor of English and Related Literature at the University of St Andrews, and co-General Editor of the Cambridge University Press edition of the writings of Virginia Woolf. She is also an author, translator, editor and novelist.

I was privileged and honoured to be invited to hear Susan speak at the monthly meeting of the Hemingford Writers' Group in Cambridgeshire, near where I am currently staying.

Not only was it evident that Susan was an eminent authority on the works and life of Virginia Woolf, but from the start it was apparent that she was a charming, engaging speaker with a passion for her specialised subject and for writing in general. (I am sure her students must adore her!)It is the latter concept of writing in general that I shall focus on this posting as I found the gems she dropped about writing and publishing, and her experiences as an author, simultaneously inspiring and daunting. I have rushed home to write them up while they are fresh in my mind as I want to share them with others. I mention them in no particular order but as they spring to my mind.

In response to a question from the floor, Susan said that generally authors have no say in the design for the cover of a book. In the case of Vanessa and Virginia, it was decided to show the backs of two little girls, each with one hand raised, looking out at a view. Shades of powder blue were chosen on the premise that pink would have been too 'girly'. Interestingly enough, the jacket design is also being used to promote a play, based on the novel, the premiere of which will be held in Aix-en-Provence later this year. She also reported that the novel had a different cover in the States, another in the Swedish and yet another in the French translated versions. The importance of a jacket design and title should not be minimised. With the rise of books being sold in supermarkets, she happened to know that the buyers for Tescos gave each book a mere 30 second glance. If the cover and title conveyed sex, action and thriller it would probably make it to the supermarket shelves!

Commenting on the actual writing process from inception to publication, Susan said that she did not yet have a story for her next novel but had a character and setting in mind. (I query whether subconciously she actually does have a plot which has not yet surfaced. What are your views?) Susan said that rewrites were an inevitable part of writing and that a novel often took years to write. She also mentioned the concept of 'displacement', or procrastination, which is very common among writers, where you do anything to avoid putting pen to paper or fingers to the keyboard. She quoted one instance where she hemmed the living room curtains rather than commence writing. (Oh, how I can relate to this! How about you?)

Susan remarked that although Vanessa and Virginia was a fictional account of the two sisters' lives, she never messed with history or chronology, but did take artistic licence with some anecdotes. An example she gave was that of a friend's toddler, who, jealous of a new baby, tried to put it in the kitchen rubbish bin! She has included this in her book.

Further on the subject of accuracy and the truth, she said that, despite the services of two editors, there was a mistake in her novel. She had swallows searching for grubs, which of course, they simply do not do, but to date noone had picked her up on that. (I wonder if those New Yorker editors would have done!Would you have?) However, sometimes an author will make a deliberate factual error, assuming, or giving credence to his or her readers, that they will be educated enough to realise this. She elaborated on an incident in Woolf's The Voyage Out, where Mrs Dalloway confuses Clytemnestra as being in Antigone rather than Agamemnon. Some researchers think that this is a deficit in Woolf's knowledge, but she is in fact showing a flaw in Mrs Dalloway's character.

Responding to another question from the audience whether she would like to be able to just write fiction fulltime, Susan said that very few writers made enough money to be able to do this. She now only worked part-time to free herself up a little, but she had only made 10,000 GBP on the sale of her last work, which was not in itself bad. However, when compared with other outlays, that amount soon palled. She mentioned that she had paid for her own publicity shots and to be able to use them she had had to buy the photographer's copyright. She had also funded the costs of promoting her book in the USA herself. (I query whether these expenses could be tax deductible? What do you think?)She added that she thought it was good to work as well as just write, not only from a monetary perspective, but it also kept you sharp.

Susan added that to distribute books to bookshops cost money, including putting on the '2 for 3' tables. She also said that two of her colleagues were reviewers. On any one day they might be confronted with a wall of books and asked to select two to review! Two of Susan's MA students' books had been selected for publication, one by the prestigious Hodder & Stoughton, but only one had been reviewed. With the demise of the printed newspaper and word, book reviews were harder and harder to come by.

Answering a question about writing courses at University, Susan said St Andrews had been one of the oldest Universities to run a writing course, but it then came under the label of rhetoric. Writing courses first started in the States and one of the major proponents of such courses in the UK was David Lodge, who introduced the writing course at the University of East Anglia. Cambridge University had no such course!

To conclude, I shall return to the subject matter of Susan's novel. She admitted that there were several literary works about Virginia Woolf, so why another one. One reason she gave was that Woolf and her husband did their own printing. Virginia would write in the mornings by long-hand, type it up, and then in the afternoons would laboriously typeset it letter by letter, which needed to be done from the bottom of the page upwards, working from right to left. In other words, if the last word on a page were 'look', then the 'k' would need to be selected first, then the 'o' and so on. The next day she would rewrite what she had written by long hand, type it up and typeset it again, which explains why there are so many different versions of Woolf's works. Another reason, of course, is that Vanessa and Virginia takes a different slant on both the sisters' works and is written from the pov of Vanessa.

Have you ever had a 'Mr Bean' day Part 2?

Still on the same tram (see previous posting) I suddenly espied the National Gallery of Victoria and on impulse, wishing my new-found friend a speedy goodbye, I decided to alight there and then, as there was an exhibition on which I wanted to see - and heh - it would be nice and cool in there!

By this time I was feeling decidedly peckish, but after viewing the rather tired-looking paninis and recycled quiches in the cafe on the ground floor of the gallery, I headed for the other cafe/bistro 'with garden view', which, too late I realised, was the rather swish, expensive restaurant option. However, no-one seemed to turn a blind eye at my attire (see previous posting) although my eyes practically did a somersault when I saw the prices.

I chose the watercress soup with gnocci and something or other - at $16 I thought it would be filling. After bringing me some rather nice bread and a perfect pat of unsalted butter, the waiter placed a huge, white, china soup plate, which was more surround than bowl, on the table in front of me. Two miniscule gnocci, each barely the size of my little fingernail, rested on the bottom of the bowl, accompanied by a sprig of watercress and two wafer-thin rolls of that something or other. He then poured the 'watercress puree', which was the colour of the green, green grass of home, from a tiny glass carafe onto the gnocci, as if it were some sacred elixir: the gnocci and their companions dutifully floated to the top of the liquid. I have to say the 'soup' was absolutely delicious although the whole ritual reminded me of the painting Circe Invidiosa by John Waterhouse, particularly when I compared the colour of my soup with the colour of the water in the gallery's garden pond. To my horror, I also discovered that my white top now sported a nice, green grass stain.

You'd think I'd have had the sense to pay up and shut up by now, wouldn't you? But no, my stomach was not satisfied, so instead of just ordering a skinny cap I acquiesced to the waiter's order, well rhetorical question really, to look at the dessert menu. Mango and grapefruit canelloni with yoghurt, lime sorbet and meringues tempted me - now that would surely quell my gastric juices and not be too calorific.

My waiter (yes, he was MY personal waiter by now) placed another huge, white, china, but this time dessert plate, with more surround than dish, in front of me, which acted as a canvas for an absolute work of art, so much so that I had to resist the temptation to take a photo with my I-phone. There were three little (and I mean tiny) morsels of golden-orange mango jelly canneloni, filled with yummy, milky-white yoghurt, and a dollop of sorbet with just a tinge of limewash colour, but whose sweet/sour flavour was like freshly-picked limes caressing my tingling tastebuds. However, where were the meringues and what were those slivers of pink that matched the flamingo pink stripes in my hair (courtesy of my hairdresser) and what were those crumbs of fragrant purple? With each scoop my spoon made all the colours on the plate swirled together until it resembled an artist's palette. (I might add the green smudge on my white top had now been joined by slightly less than artistic streaks of orange, pink and purple.) It finally dawned on me that the slivers of pink on my plate were the grapefruit, the crumbs of fragrant purple were crushed, crystallised violets, and what I thought were droppings of icing sugar were the meringues!

I asked for the bill - yes of course they took AMEX - didn't have the nerve to ask for a senior's discount - no I was not a member of the gallery as I was from Sydney (I thought too that might explain everything to this mild-mannered Melbournian) - and no I had let my NSW Art Gallery membership lapse - 'Tut!Tut!' - otherwise I could have had a reciprocal member's discount.

I think I redeemed myself though by passing my compliments to the chef on the food, especially that dessert.

Have you ever had a 'Mr Bean' day Part 1?

I was in Melbourne a couple of days ago, where, for that city, it was unfashionably very hot and humid. I offered to take my friends' dog for a walk in the morning to save them from having to get up so early before work - an offer which they and the dog leapt at. Somehow I managed to lose my way in the park and after walking round it twice a very tired pooch and myself finally made it home to flop on our respective 'beds'. To cool off, I decided to take myself off to the recently refurbished St Kilda Baths, so I didn't bother to change out of my rather sweaty walking/gym gear, and trundled off to the city on a tram.

I had only just boarded the tram when it braked rather suddenly and I went flying, only to tumble straight into the arms of a complete stranger, dressed in complete contrast to me in a rather nice suit and crisp white shirt. He seemed rather proud of his gallant act to break my fall and after enquiring if I was okay, held out his hand in a greeting: 'What a great way to meet people! I'm Michael.'

Always on the alert for writing material and being influenced by Lori Gottlieb's controversial book Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good EnoughI I thought about writing a book entitled: 101 Ways to Meet Someone. So Tip No. 55 - when travelling on public transport, choose someone you like the look of, stage a fall and stumble into their lap.

No need to add, I'm sure, that this book would be for the gander as well as the goose.

Are you in the mood?

Look at the two images accompanying this posting? They were both taken in Cambridge in the recent big freeze at slightly different times on the same day. However, what sort of different atmosphere or mood does each evoke? For me one is warm and golden, while the other definitely has a touch of the Jackson Pollock's! (This is an Australian slang reference to the painting Blue Poles by the artist Jackson Pollock, purchased by the Australian National Gallery at great expense and causing much controversy a few years ago. I think you can see the connection.)

What does each image say to you?

So if, as Martin Gray in The Dictionary of Literary Terms, says: “Mood is a term used synonymously with atmosphere to indicate in a literary work the prevailing feeling or frame of mind, especially at the start of a play, poem, or novel, creating a sense of expectation about what is to follow.”, as writers, how do we achieve the same mood in prose as these images convey?

Is truth stranger than fiction?

I have just been to the opening of a Japanese photography exhibition. What intrigued me as much as the exhibits was one of the invitees, who reminded me of one of the characters in the novel I am writing. In my novel the female protagonist has a rather colourful drill instructor at 'spy camp', who has tattoos all over his body and who is bequeathing his skin to an art gallery when he dies.

I am not sure whether the person who attended the exhibition has tattoos all over his body, but I suspect he does as they were all over his face, interspersed with studs and piercings, his neck and his hands, which were adorned with rather expensive looking rings. He was probably about 50, and really was a very unusual person. I decided to turn him into a character study and took particular note of how he was dressed: fairly normal dark trousers, shirt and jacket with a purple tie, Doc Martins, dark curly hair held in place with a black bandana, a long pony tail of dreadlocks trailing down his back, and a pair of reflective sunglasses. He made frequent trips to the bar and wolfed down the sushi like it was his last meal. I wish I'd had the nerve to go up and talk to him...

However, what else evolved from the evening was that I learnt there is to be a Tattoo & Body Art Expo in Sydney during March, so I thought I might go along - no not to have a tattoo - I mean I'd love to - but I'm a coward and have a low pain threshhold - henna ones are as far as I will go - but to find some more larger than life characters.

Whose point of view?

Yes, as you'll see from this post's accompanying images, it's a flower arranging day. Despite our tutor's modelling, as usual I started off today's arrangement with no particular design in mind (shame on me, I know!), but it usually works for me, as flowers, like us girls' hair, tend to have a mind of their own when it comes to which way they want to go. Want something curly, that lovely leaf you carefully so picked for its curves, will stand up straight; want a flower to turn its head right, it'll twist around to the left, and so on.

Moving on to the point I'm really trying to make, when I'd finished my composition, on a whim I turned the vase to face diagonally instead of square-on and thought: 'Wow! That works too!'. When I got home I took the usual photos of my creative attempts turning the vase this way and that.

So, as with writing, not only can a piece vary depending from whose viewpoint we are writing, but it can also be interpreted differently depending on what angle the reader takes on the work. I was also strongly reminded today of our Advanced Practice tutor's first lecture, when he referred us to different paintings, which all told a different narrative, and which changed or anamorphed and exposed other details depending from what position you viewed the paintings. Holbein's The Ambassadors is a prime example of this. If you're not familiar with this painting, see if you can find the skull depicted in it.

Tread gingerly

Today's posting was going to be a hotch potch of scattered ideas, inspired, no doubt, because today was the first day of term for my flower arranging course this year, which always seems to get my creative juices flowing, and which made me get out my camera for the inevitable photo. As this coming Sunday is Valentine's Day today's arrangement figured roses - not red ones - but the most heavenly-scented pink ones. The yellow spiky-looking bloom on the left, whose flowers are still to come out, is Australian ginger. It too has the most exquisite, heady perfume, closest to it is probably jasmine. So why hasn't someone created a ginger fragrance? I'm sure it would be a winner with both genders - I find its aroma intoxicating and addictive - I couldn't stop sniffing one that was in full bloom in class, much to the amusement of my tutor, and can't wait till mine blossoms.

This elusive scent reminded me of the novel Perfume: Story of a Murderer by Patrick Susskind, so I have chosen to just refer to that work in this posting and will leave the other ideas for future postings. (Keep reading over the next few days!) If you have read this macabre murder novel you will know what an excellent job Susskind did in making the reader experience the different scents he wrote about, to the point where I could certainly smell them. I never saw the film version of the novel, but I do question why someone doesn't come up with the idea of a multisensory film or theatre piece, where the cinema or theatre exposes the audience to different sensations, such as cold, heat, smell... Hmm, maybe those ginger flowers had hallucinogenic properties, like Angels Trumpets...

But we speak the same language, don't we?

Two separate events occurred over the weekend, which led me to think about communication between the English-speaking countries of the world.

The first was when a peer, who was critiquing the extract from my novel, which I am planning to submit for the Advanced Practice Unit of my MA in Professional Writing, remarked that she couldn't understand some of the Australianisms I'd used in this piece of work. So, the dilemma is to find a balance between a prose, which the wider English-speaking community would understand without losing the Australian flavour and setting of this particular piece.

The second event took place at the movies (cinema to some). I went to see the British comedy In the loop with a dinky di Australian friend, who complained that they couldn't understand the Scottish accent and missed out on some of the cultural references.

I realise I can easily move between the two cultures (Australian and British), and, as a bit of a lingist, between a couple of others too. As a languages eductor I aim to bring my students to the point where they can do this too - we call this finding the third place, a zone where you feel comfortable between the two cultures, which may not be the same for everyone. You know which form of language to use, how to behave and what is expected in different situations, but may not feel comfortable taking on board every aspect of the target culture even though you respect and accept it. Some examples, which illustrate this, might be bowing in Japanese culture or visiting a public Japanese bath-house where you are expected to be naked, or to non-Anglos - queueing! These customs wouldn't bother some people but they might others.

So, as writers, how do we bring our readers to that third place?

For a review of the film In the loop, please go to my website

Why use multiple narrators?

In the Advanced Practice Unit of my MA in Professional Writing, I have been researching and playing around with using multiple narrators.

So why do authors sometimes use multiple narrators? There are multiple answers.

The most common reason seems to be when it is important to obtain different characters' views on a single matter, such as in mystery or detective novels.

Another use of multiple narrators is to describe separate events that occur at the same time in different locations, rather like the usage of several split screens in some contemporary television series.

Yet another is to introduce or describe a main character from different people's perspectives.

What other reasons do you know?

Sebastian Faulks

You probably all know Sebastian Faulks has just published a new novel A Week in December, which I purchased in hardback. (Faulks, MacEwan and Le Carre - still got to find that acute accent - are the only authors to whom I would accord this tribute.) I have only just started to read this book, but as usual I'm already totally engaged by and drooling over his superb writing style. There are no gimmicks, no pithy modernisms, no lazy writing, - just plain, good - supremely good writing using a good old-fashioned third person narrator, plenty of imagery, description, metaphors and similes. The writing just flows. Have a look at my website in a few days for a proper review of this novel. He's still one of the greats!

Drafts, digitals and deletions

Have you ever lost photos on your digital camera? I am sooooo upset - I took some wonderful photos (well, with digital cameras you never really know if they're wonderful until you view them on your computer or whatever, do you?) of, amongst other places, Cambridge, in the snow. After convincing my friends that punting on the Cam in the Big Freeze at 4pm was a unique opportunity that may not occur again in our lifetime, we set off wrapped in layers of blankets, clutching hot water bottles and alternately drinking hot chocolate and mulled wine. I promised to let them have images of our adventure, but I now find that something went wrong with the camera. I've either deleted those photos of snow-clad, ancient academic spires bathed in the most exquisite light or the memory card was full.

This led me to think about our delightful tutor's advice to never delete or play with those first, raw drafts of written work without keeping a copy of them intact in their original state, as we might want to revisit them.

I was going to accompany this posting with a delightful image but the fickle finger of fate or the camera operator (moi!) has decided otherwise. Sorry!

East meets West, or does it?

Having just spent a few days in snowy Berlin Stadt with my goddaughter's family, I took the opportunity to interview a variety of people about how life had changed since the fall of the Wall. Berlin was one of my old stamping grounds, you could even say, as the song does, 'Ich bleib Berlin meine alte Liebe treu' (I remain true to my old love, Berlin.), so I could relate to what these people were saying about their lives, before, during and/or after the Wall. However, what suprised me was that there was still some tension between the Osties and the Westies. I don't want to quote examples here as the whole experience has inspired me with the idea of writing a feature story or maybe just a collection of stories of a reunified Berlin under a capitalist system and a reunified Viet Nam (another of my old stamping grounds) under a Communist system.

If you would like to add your comments and views, I'd love to hear from you.

Cutting edge genre?

I came across a new genre today - Fictocriticism. Some of you may think "Where has she been?" However, this term struck a real chord with me.

Although challenging to define, in a broad sense Fictocriticism is an experimental genre of writing which, like an essay, tries to make an argument but also tells a story at the same time.It draws attenton to issues which need to be addressed by looking at cultural practices, then using a first person narrator relates how these practices are experienced.

Is this, subsconsciously, what I tried to do when writing the most recent piece for my novel? I used a first person narrator to introduce the male character in my book and to tell his 'story': his experiences growing-up as a Uyghur in China, which naturally touched upon issues of political and religious oppression; his entry to University just before 9/11 and the effects of that incident on him and his people; his goal to study overseas, and not least his perspective on his relationship with a Western girl. Previous to this I had only been writing pieces for the book from the female protagonist's pov. Although this piece still needs a lot of reworking, I have a bubbling of hope that I may be on the right track in choosing to tell his story this way.

Frame breaking

Sometimes I think perhaps I should have dedicated this blog to flower arranging – it does seem to feature a lot - but yesterday’s effort (pictured left) merits a mention.

You may notice that of the three lengths of bamboo, which were sawn off by a particularly lethal implement, one is actually outside the vase. To do this it was necessary to secure the three bamboo pieces together with raffia wire. There was a method in this madness, however, as it not only created a quirky effect but served a valid function, i.e. it stabilised the whole arrangement.

As usual I started to think how this concept could be applied to writing – I mean you can have paintings and digital photos where a part of the picture protrudes outside of the frame for particular effect, such as a golf club in full swing or the head of a cute little puppy. I then came across this article on the net by Lisbeth Rieshøj Pedersen on frame-breaking in the works of the Jewish writer Raymond Federman, whose novels I have read. Experienced writers and critics will be aware of this strategy of frame breaking but I wasn’t or didn’t know it was called that.

The creative space in between

A rather odd connection between writing and flower arranging happened for me today. The tutor said to leave a space between the two different colours of gladioli. He referred to it as the creative space in between.

It made me think of the pauses in music, which the artistic director of my choir, says are just as important as the notes, if not more so.

However, it also made my brain veer off on a wild tangent to the writing of Michael Reilly, a young Sydney action writer, whose latest book The Five Greatest Warriors has topped the best seller list, even beating New Moon.

Although not the type of author I would usually read, I was introduced to Michael’s books by my brother. The first thing that struck me was Michael’s highly visual style of writing - a tribute, which unbeknown to me then, book reviewers ascribe to his work. What stands out in my mind is the description of a race in Michael’s novel Hover Car Racer. The writing went something like this:

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and so on.

This creative use of space was far more powerful and effective than any piece of dense prose he could have written to describe the race.

To see a review of Michael Reilly’s latest book The Five Greatest Warriors, go to my website.

How far would you go for love?

Taking a break from the 40 degree heat today, I went to see a Franco Zeffirelli production of Puccini’s Turandot filmed live at the Met in HD. As you may know, the Met has been showing a series of operas since last year throughout cinemas around the world. Cinema goers may be in different time zones but they see each opera as it goes out live. There is a VIP who introduces each opera, and who also interviews the stars and other members of the production team, in between acts. For example, today the person in charge of making severed heads, for operas like Salome, was interviewed. The young Latvian conductor was also interviewed. He said the thing he liked best about Turandot was the fact that Liu, a slave girl, sacrificed her own life to save the man she loved. He felt this act surpassed any heroic feats of war. It actually has echoes of the novel I’m attempting to write where the heroine, a Western girl, is coerced into working for the intelligence services and making sacrifices, to save the man she loves, who is a Uyghur.

The boys are back

Was really going to post this as a review on my website but that still needs a bit more building - well, quite a lot actually.
Last night I went to see a preview of the film, which is the title of this post, at my lovely art deco cinema. It was directed by Australian Scott Hicks, famous, among others films, for 'Shine', and 'Snow falling on cedars', and who was present for a Q&A session after the film.
This film is a must see. It is based on the true life memoirs (can memoirs be anything else but true - yeah I guess so) of Simon Carr, a New Zealander, who was widowed in his 30s, when his second wife died of cancer leaving him with a young son to bring up. He also has a son by his first wife, who both live in England. Don't stop reading now guys - this film has everything: humour, emotion, sport, a bit of fisticuffs,(sorry no sex to speak of) but really is one for the boys as well as the girls. As Scott said he likes stories which draw on family and complex relationships, an undying source of material to which we all, as writers or filmmakers, have access. It also showcases the music of Icelandic band Sigur Ros, who normally refuse to allow their music to be reproduced in any context. However, Scott took the film to Iceland to show them, forewarned by his son that these were "the coolest people on the planet", so in other words don't stuff it up! The band loved the film and agreed to let Scott use their music. The screenplay was set in Australia and filmed in South Australia - Scott's home state, although he now spends most of his time in the US. It is an Australian and BBC co-production, and stars that gorgeous hunk of a British film star Clive Owen, with his just off posh London accent and plenty of close-ups of his deep eyes. The cinematography is a visual feast. One comment by Scott, which really resonated with me, was that he wanted to show emotion without sentimentality, which he certainly achieved. More than can be said for the screen version of the book 'The Time Traveller's Wife'. I was sooooo disappointed with this film - it was pure Hollywood, and although Australian Eric Bana, who played the lead, is good eye candy, there really is only so much of him in the nude a girl can take. What does Hollywood do to our talented actors? They become plasticised and their work becomes souless, cf Nicole Kidman. I remember Eric Bana in the Australian film Romulus my father,a far superior film to The Time Traveller's Wife, as is The Boys are Back.

Click to listen to interviews with Scott Hicks.

If you would like to read more reviews of movies and books, go to my website in a couple of days.

Editing assignments getting you down?

Who likes editing? The answer to that is probably editors! Editing can be the bane of a student writer's life (and I suspect an established writer's life). Having just completed a particularly onerous assignment, where I and my peers were required to edit a book project about the humble apple, I can honestly say this took the prize for being the pits! I never want to see, smell or eat an apple, or anything remotely to do with apples again(oh, except maybe my new I-phone!).
So how do you relax, wind down, come down or whatever after a particularly gruelling and frustrating period of edting, re-writing or just plain writing that didn't go so well? Would love to hear from you!
What works for me?

Going for a swim at the beach.

Listening to music, and last but certainly not least

Going to flower arranging!

When I walk in the room and hear my tutor's soothing, calm voice; see, smell and touch the gorgeous blooms and foliage he has chosen for us, not to mention coming out with something half resembling an arrangement, I get a warm, fuzzy feeling and all the tension disappears. If only the writing process were that easy. But do you know what the trickiest bit is? Getting the flower arrangment safely home in the car, or even just into the car, not to mention up the stairs to my flat!

If you're interested, today's effort (pictured) consists mainly of white and purple-pink orchids, a special type of baby's breath, Albany woolly bush from Western Australia, Philodendron leaves, Leucandron from Argentina (it feels like stroking a pussycat!), Nandina, and I've forgotten the name of the silvery-grey leaves at the front. The professional florists among you may despair, but I feel good!