I was an entrepreneurial child. My brothers and I charged neighbourhood children money to look over their pets and sold them home-made animal food. Not only lemonade sales on the sidewalk, we managed to sell gallon containers of homemade “holy water” from a little red wagon, until we got busted. I was the eleven year old editor of a neighbourhood newspaper: carbon copied typed sheets distributed for 10 cents. During football season we parked cars on the lawn for money, and in another, more rural, neighbourhood we charged money to push cars that got stuck in snow drifts.

Ruth Figgest by Nicky Thomas

Ruth Figgest by Nicky Thomas

Years ago a fellow writer years commented that I seemed to avoid “place” in my work. I learned that this was because place was inordinately important to me. My family moved frequently when I was a child and this absence in my writing was covering up anxiety. Once I recognised my personal bias, it freed up something and the result was improved writing.

I hold my pen oddly and have a self-taught (but accurate) method for “long division”.

I found the unstated messages to do with class in the UK really difficult to decode when I returned to live here as an adult.

I have been astonished to discover people from different ethnic and socio-economic groups have an unequal life expectancy and expectation of good health – even in this century and in our wonderful country.

My car is messy. I can barely remember the make and can be confused about the colour. I clean it out infrequently. However, if you need something (eg. a plaster, a spare child’s car seat, a torch, seven pounds in five and ten pence pieces, a swimming costume, a bottle of squash, or a book to enjoy when waiting somewhere) you’ll find it in my car.

My dog is wonderful. Yes, he costs money, and needs attention and time, but he is marvellous.

I never turn on the lights at night if I get up. A long history of poor sightedness means that I’m better equipped than most to find my way around a familiar but otherwise completely dark room. In a power cut, I’m the one who can find the lighter and candles.

For years I kept a diary written backwards, so that the only way to read it easily was to hold it to a mirror.

I am a frequent insomniac and manage pretty well on very little or no sleep at times, which is a useful skill in emergencies. I think I am always expecting emergencies.