Don't forget the unsung heroes

This weekend is full of wall-to-wall sport - the Masters, the Chinese Grand prix, IPL cricket and women's FA cup semis - so it's easy for some things to get buried. Let's celebrate Max Whitlock getting European gold on the pommel and Ellie Downie picking up two medals (I remember when we were so bad at gymnastics that would have been a huge achievement). Also a cracking win for England men's deaf rugby team against the Welsh.

In other news, my flowering cherry is out:



and Winchester was looking particularly nice this morning:

Rainbow snippets goes retro!

Going back to my first ever published novel, Lessons in Love. Now onto its third publisher!

Orlando knew that he shouldn't have come to watch the rugby. He should have gone to the dentist and had his teeth pulled out, it would have been less painful.

It wasn't as if he could complain that the game was bad; it was a very exciting match, good end-to-end stuff and plenty of points scored. It wasn't bad weather, having turned much milder than it had been the last month, and the sun was high enough in the sky to have the suggestion of heat about it.

The problem was the bloody stupid way that Jonty Stewart threw himself headlong into every tackle. Bodies crunching together, stomach-churning sounds of bone and muscle in collision—that was what was so distressing. And he always seemed to emerge from the melee with a daft grin and, usually, the ball.

More excerpts at the Rainbow snippets group.