Don't bother going to Devon - all the cream teas have been taken care of now

Right, I'm back back baaack from hollybobs (as they used to say when Smash Hits was edited by Smurfs).  Not officially back coaching clients yet - that starts in September, though the diary is filling up so get in touch if you're thinking about booking some coaching sessions.

Little bloblets of work still happening - just did an interview with a newspaper in Finland (Question - Should Britney Spears, Paris Hilton & Lindsay Lohan rejeuvenate their careers by appearing on a reality show?  Answer - Joanne burbles on at length, the gist of which is 'NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!')

Holiday was good for books and badgers.  We had peanut-eating badgers who would visit the holiday homestead every night, though I suspect if they could work out how to open the packets themselves they wouldn't have bothered.

Also read a quartet of good books.  Many people read personal development/self improvement books on holiday, but I read those all year round so reckoned it was time for something different.  Started off with Out of the Tunnel by Rachel North.  I was interested in this because it's about the author surviving both the 7th July London tube bombings, and being attacked and raped by a stranger.  I particularly wanted to read her thoughts and experiences of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, something I also experienced after my house burned down when I was in it.  It's an unforgettably powerful book, maybe not the best choice for a holiday read because it does take you to darker places, but ultimately an uplifting story of an incredible woman.

Also quite dark and mysterious, verging on the creepy, then veering left into spooky was Sebastian Beaumont's Thirteen.  It' s the fictional story of a Brighton taxi driver and his adventures with the mysterious creatures who pop up on the nightshift.  I'm almost sure it's a great book - my only reservations are because it's quite distracting reading a book based where you live, even if it's painting the picture through a dream.  Hubby and I took turns at reading this and were forever poking each other and saying 'Look - he's gone in our local curry house!  He's in a pub I go to!' and other such fascinating snippets.  (We do have depths in our shallows BTW, but it was like this guy was stalking us).

Then swiftly on to Arlington Park by Rachel Cusk, which is an entirely different kettle of discontented housewives.  Had mixed feelings about this one - there's terrific writing in there, but ultimately there wasn't one woman in there who was happy with her life.  They were all hacked off, usually with their men or their children or both.  There was also lots and lots of rain, making it the perfect holiday companion.

Besides rain, no holiday is complete without a bonkers family, but if you can't supply your own then Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs is a good alternative.  Read it if you are a particularly safety-conscious parent who could do with a few laughs and a good dose of the horrors.