Thursday 31 December 2009

HAPPY NEW YEAR

And here we are, in the countdown to a new decade – wonder what they’ll call this one: the tennies? So this is where I promise to be good, better, perfect; to write more, finish a novel, clean the flat, lay the carpets, sit at a desk instead of lounging in bed with the laptop…be more professional. There is a profession that’s conducted in a bed and it’s not writing! Oh but I love this bed, this room and my position in it. I almost got the armchair emptied today – maybe tomorrow, or later tonight.

I’ve even got a little drink beside me; leftover chardonnay from my visitors in June – waste not want not. There’s lemonade in it, but that’s flat, but I might be driving tomorrow so I don’t want to open the whisky, and it’s such a waste to drink by yourself. I’m happy with my flat old wine and lemonade.

My biggest success this year has been the fall of television. I meant to call Virgin today and cancel the cable; I hardly watch it at all now. So, this could be it – the year I become a real writer as opposed to a couch potato! Hmmm, howz about that then?

I began a brand new short story today for a competition in January and plan on putting this large bum on the seat to do just that more often. I know I’ve said that before but what better time to say it than the end of a decade and the birth of a new one.

See ya sooner than you think. :-)

 

 

Tuesday 17 November 2009

BBrrrrrr


...and here comes winter, damping us down the drain along with the leaves. I let the rain wash my car while I do taxi duties for number two son, Musician. As long as I'm inside, I'm reasonably happy :-)



and it's cold, and chilly and mostly miserable with a flash of sun now and again - this weather forecast will self-destruct in ten seconds. Boom!



Thursday 12 November 2009

HOWZ IT ALL GOING THEN?

Sleep; what is that – a novel I read years ago? Oh, sleeeeep, where you close your eyes and drift off into some other world for seven or eight hours – not in this life I don’t. I would pay fortunes (if I had any) to experience unconsciousness for more than an hour at a time. My friend, Sylvia mentioned on the phone yesterday that there is a version of Nightal (don’t know if I’ve spelled that right) that works like a dream, even on the usually impervious. It’s supposed to be natural drugs: not real serious drugs – I thought drugs were natural. Well anyway, I might try it if she can find out the right colour for me.

 

My two weeks holiday is almost up; back to work on Monday, full of my usual bounce and enthusiasm. Actually I’ll be glad to get back to work; I’ve got a blanket to crochet for my new great-niece, and one to finish for my daughter Amazon’s boyfriend. I push these blankets on everyone and the big/young people like them especially for their hangovers, especially in winter when they’re mooning around the house, or mooching from neighbours. Actually, she’s been going out with him for over two years now, so I’ll have to give him a name; he works in a bank but I don’t think Banker would suit him, but he’s a DJ too, so DJ it is. Welcome to my blog, DJ.

 

Where was I? Oh yes, sleep. I lay down about half-past twelve, because I seemed to be tired, as you do. One hour later I’m still trying to fall off to sleep. So I gave up and made a cup of tea, opened the laptop and suddenly a section of the novel appeared in my head…but I still quickly checked email and Litopia for conversation. Nothing doing, I delved into the novel and wrote almost a thousand words. by half-past two I was nodding and congratulating myself, talking into the room. Then I lay down again but not a lot happened so I’m going to sack the hell out of that manager who runs the Land of Nod.

 

Half-past nine, text messages from Amazon. Nine-forty-five phone call from Musician. Isn’t everything in the world about how we get the loan of a fiver to bloody Musician? But I got up and actually wrote more lovely words (well that remains to be seen) before I had breakfast at eleven. I like it when a plan comes together – what plan? That’s why I’m having so much trouble with this bloody novel; I haven’t planned it out and don’t know what happens at the end – writing by the seat of my pants here, as usual.

 

So yeah, things are going good.

Wednesday 11 November 2009

APOLOGIES FOR BEING BONKERS

Yesterday’s post was cheating; it was half a lie, in that it was all internal – yes, I was talking to myself. My son never heard those words that were screaming in my head that still lurk somewhere seething to get out. I am a calm and lovely mother in my old age, though have to confess to being very un-perfect in days gone by. Looking back on it now I would wish to have been different – a better mother, who put her children first instead of herself. My children deserved more of my attention.

 

So, if they’re not perfect now, I know that it could’ve been different. …but I don’t want to do that; blame myself. No, I blame their useless father, or single parenthood or the government or God.

 

How do you get past all this trudging down memory lane with an axe in your hand, trying to change paths and directions? I can’t; what’s done is done and we all just have to live with what we have at any given moment.

 

I’ve suddenly turned maudlin. How did that happen? Maybe I’m listening for heavy footsteps coming behind me – COME IN NUMBER 4 YOUR TIME IS UP! I think I sense a change in the air, and there has been movement in the extended family. My niece has just had her first baby; she was born with a condition called Septo Optic Dysplasia – she will definitely have problems with her sight, perhaps blind.

 

I told my sister-in-law that I’d been expecting something like this; we’ve had all these beautiful children over the years, and not one of them having any health problems or disabilities. Reality does come a-knocking, eventually.

 

Maybe my mood has swung over in this direction because I’m on holiday and have spent a lot more time on my own, or perhaps I’m just as bonkers as I ever was. Time will tell.

OLD WORDS

No it's not that I don't like him; the main problem I have with my son is the way he just blasts out his thoughts and visions as if he's got a court order stating he's right in fact. I know you're going to grab me for using the 'don't like' words so on you go -.in fact I'll take a leaf out of his book and imagine that you couldn't possibly understand what I'm on about. Oooh, he makes me want to slap him. Does he think I'm from another planet or something? That I haven't been changed and battered through the years from dealing with men and teenagers?


'Don't you dare,' I said to him. 'Don't you steal any more years from me. I've been there and know what's going on in your head - Christ you haven't even reached the half-way mark and you think you're magnificent with all your projections about what your kids will and won't do because of the way you've brought them up. Reality will bash your face in pretty soon my boy, God help you.'

 

I can't repeat what he said in return because the keyboard is littered with flipped letters, so I have to be careful - speak slowly. I need to calm down. I'll have a chocolate brazil nut and try to change the subject that's racing around my head.

No, it doesn't matter what I do, I can't make it go away, and I'm so tired because of my eyes, and the sneezing - you wouldn't think that sneezing would take so much out of you, would you? I wish I could lie down but I'd have a stroke if I did that. I should know better than to let it get to me. I hate arguing - that's the people-pleaser in me.


How do you help a thirty-something man? Probably by lethal injection.

 

No, I'm not condoning the murder of sons but it does feel good to grate my teeth at the thought; feel them bite into each other as I vent my rage at his stupid words - not at him, just the words. Oooh, the words will kill me one of these days if I don't get a grip. I already know all of this. Why does it reach down there and pull at my guts? I thought all that passion was gone. Oh God, is there more to come? Will I be dragged back into that world of strife and tension when his children start acting up? Am I losing my mind again?

 

No, I won't go there; I'm going to give myself a right seeing-to...Oh I can feel my teeth starting to grind again. Stop it! I'm going to get dressed and walk up the road...

Yes, that's it, walk the good walk - eat some brazils and smile at strangers. Yes, walk and forget about the future - it's not here yet, is it?

Sunday 8 November 2009

THE KISS OF LIFE

Oooh, winter is coming and the world, as I knew it, is gone; hundreds of pounds of already-used heat sailed from my kingdom - time to face the mountain and its weather. The best tool I have is this bed, this ship, these quilts and blankets, this laptop and super-furry slippers. I can feel the chill lying on my shoulders, sliding down my arms but I've yet to feel the kiss of ice on my nose - when it reaches the cheekbones I'll turn that dial, hear the explosion of the lovely gas jets - BOOOF! and the tide will turn, balance is to be my new life - I can touch but only dream of further depths.


Where does money go when it dies? I seem to have missed the funeral and gone straight to grieving but I am graceful - there has been no bawling, no disgraceful wailing in public, gnashing of old teeth. A regular lottery ticket is the only residue of the old ways.


I would rather be in this space than that public hanging, that general tripping of extortionate handbags...all hail to hermitism and sequestration; the unclean den of iniquity and vicarious living, internet ramblings and tv-on-demand. My skin will wrinkle with secrets and imaginings, each line a tale to be told, each pucker a lesson. Only in reflection can truth be seen.


Oh I can glaze over all my faults and forgive the world its heartlessness in this, my new benevolence. I will be a new woman, reborn - a virgin queen, kissed by the chilling lips of stupidity and wayward dreams.

Saturday 7 November 2009

REALITY

I have to confess to a small case of Lazyitus – well I hope it’s a small case. I lay in bed last night (early hours of the morning) planning to get up and write for most of the day today, Oh I was going to do all sorts but I was delayed. The bed held me back. I automatically took my first cup of decaffeinated tea into the bedroom and slipped between the covers again, then, as the laptop warmed up, my hand reached out for the lovely shiny thing that is my iPod Touch – and that was me snookered. I’ve been here all day.

 

Of course I have to set the beautiful thing up; assign favourites in uTube, checkout the apps I captured last night and learn how to type on the fabulous little keyboard. The fact that today was my first weighing-in day fell by the wayside, and even that I’ve lost 10lbs – YES 10 whole lbs! didn’t make a dent in my prone position on that bloody bed. I can write like this too but did I? No, I consoled myself that my back was still a little sore so I should take another day off. Twit that I am.

 

Well, anyway, I’ve had a lovely day and have X-Factor to look forward to tonight (yeah right, with the diabolical twins) but I know that the CSIs will be repeats, so perhaps I’ll write then. I’ve been surrounded with blankets and can now feel the cold sinking into my shoulders so I’d better go put the heating on and have some dinner.

 

Now that I’ve bought my new toy and set it up, there’s not a whole lot left to do with it until I go out – which I don’t plan to do for a while. There is no more dreaming of the thing; it’s born and will be a normal feature of my life, so I might as well spend the time writing and finish this bloody novel. Hmm.

Wednesday 4 November 2009

OUT BUT NOT ABOUT - Well not much


Well, I did get up on my legs and go out of the house, but only for an hour and there wasn't actually much walking because I took the car (500 yds) to my favourite spot. I had to walk from the car to my bench (10 yds) to glory in this view.




Tuesday 3 November 2009

NaNo Begins

Oh I’m busy beavering away at the novel for NaNo – keeping pace, but it’s only day three; plenty of time to screw up! No, I’m not going to do that this year. I’ve got two weeks off work to get myself into a nice routine. I did think of running ahead of the game but I could turn myself right off doing that. So, nice and easy it is; just what I’m supposed to do and no more.

 

Though, after three days in bed I’m getting a bit twitchy – I’m in here with the laptop, hiding from the TV. So, I think I might take myself out to the loch tomorrow. Mmm, fresh air, exercise, photography, coffee…Oh God, it sounds positively dangerous!

 

I’ve also been thinking of cleaning the flat, finishing the wallpapering in the kitchen even – then moving the fridge to do the other side. Maybe I’m ill. I haven’t slept much the last two nights; my friend says it’s because I haven’t been out of the house, that I should walk somewhere – without the car! Ooh, I don’t know if I could do that. I might drive over to the loch (about 500 yards away) and have a little wander further than the decorative part, away from the shops and benches.

 

It’s a problem, but I might solve it.

Saturday 31 October 2009

A DAY OF RAINBOWS

'Asthma never goes away,' I told him, 'Not if you don't use the medication to fight it - fresh air isn't going to do it Musician.'

 

I switched off from his ideas, not wanting to hear the feeble answers for neglect. Thank God the doctor gave him a bollicking, and kept him in; that was a first, along with the canula in his hand; that little tap on his blood. He complained about it, and the time we'd had to wait. I shouldn't still have to be this mother, to a thirty year old man. Why don't I have a son who can cope with his own small space in the world? Another fault of mine, I supposed.

 

Now I had to pick up more medication for him from ward 20, on my way to work. He was knackered, he said, and sleeping the whole incident off because they'd woke him every half hour to take his blood pressure, then took him for a chest x-ray at 5am! Not once did he ask how I was, driving home at 3am last night.

 

And down came the rain - in torrents, behind the sun. I had to switch the wipers to insane! Motorways are dangerous places when there's water thrown about but driving over fly-overs through rainbows is worth every moment of near-death collision. They arrived in front of me, one after another, strong bands of colour being born right before my eyes; I'd never seen anything like it in this city before. God was making me jump through hoops - well, drive, but still an effort.

 

Everywhere I turned, a rainbow waited for me - even as I parked at the hospital. This is a sign, I thought. I'm too good to go on strike, to refuse to be a mother to my son, even if he was fifty! So maybe this is his turning point too; it might be his day, his epiphany - even if he is sound asleep in his dusty flat with his loose-haired cat.




Thursday 29 October 2009

MEETING UP WITH ORACLE

I had lunch with Oracle today – well it was really a kind of early supper. We love to sit in Peckham’s and graze a cheese board once a month, with an assortment of drinks; latte, Earl Grey, water, pear cider, coke. Fabulous way to sift through a very late afternoon, though now the clocks have changed, it was dark when we left.

 ‘Ooh, I’m out in the city in the dark!’ I said.

 

He had a new toy, which he showed off; we poured over this beautifully flat and smooth iPod Touch. Oh I just love it. At the moment I carry around five or six books in my work bag; with this wonderful little thing I wouldn’t need any at all – it has access to hundreds of books you can download and either read off its big screen or listen to. Wow! is all I can say. Actually that’s not right, because what I said was…

 

 ‘Hello lovely daughter (in a text message), Mummy wants an iPod Touch from Santa asap. Please.’ I know she’s getting her first big wage this week, because of the promotion, so I’m getting an early Christmas present. Now that is wonderful!

 

All these free aps, including newspapers, notebook, astrology, iChing, Google Earth and loads more. It catches free wifi and just clicks onto it, so you can send emails, blog, do Facebook and Bebo etc. what really attracts me is the books and writing; I should be able to upload some of my work and edit it; or I can write as much as I like and it’s already typed in, isn’t it? I do love my notebooks but I hate having to type it up, so don’t tend to write a lot in them – just notes really, or little pieces of inspiration.

 

So, a stimulating day was had and I sat musing on it and the iPod Touch during the 40 minute train journey; thinking of all the things I could have done to entertain myself with the lovely contraption.

 

Sunday 25 October 2009

WHO ARE WE?

I’ve just joined another writing site – oh yes I did. Some of my online friends from another site are there but under different names. I know that they belong to lots of other places, but wonder how they remember who they are? I can’t depend on my memory remembering who I am at any one time so must be consistent; there will only ever be ireneintheworld for me from now on. I have loads of old email addresses lying around in the ether, and domain names I’ve long forgotten; and MySpace places etc.

 

God, I come across pieces in my notebooks and stagger back in surprise, saying, ‘Did I write that?’ Of course I bloody-well did; who else? How come I don’t remember writing that stuff? The other day I found a whole poem about the Erskine Bridge suicides; it had six or seven verses and I couldn’t remember a word of it. Is this it? Should I be getting myself checked for Alzheimer’s? Mind you, they’d have to think up different questions for me because I haven’t read newspapers or listened to the news for years, so I never know what’s going on in the world – or the name of the prime minister. I don’t know why or how Steven Gately died.

 

I drove across the Erskine bridge that Monday morning, on my way to work, completely unaware that two young teenage girls had joined hands and jumped together, into the cold, dark river, only ten hours earlier. People at work were talking about it so when I drove over after work I felt the emotion rise within me for those poor souls who couldn’t think of another way out. 14 and 15 years old; how tragic is that? Now I’ve got myself upset just thinking about it again; how two girls that age could even contemplate leaping 120 feet, into a dark river.

 

Who we are is important and I’m very happy to stick with ireneintheworld now because she is who I am. I spent a lot years, lost in the wilderness; drinking in a raunchy life; experimenting in further education and creative possibilities; but I know that I’m lucky to have survived all the confusion and desperate moments so offer up prayers to whoever helped me. I am grateful.

Saturday 24 October 2009

BACK IN THE SADDLE - Maybe

Well, I have really lived up to my title here as only Sometimes Functional but I am Present now. Long time since I’ve blogged; I’ve been forced to lie down and worship the big silver box, and my sofa was just sooooo comfortable – I don’t think I’ll ever have to buy a new one. But, I’ve slapped the box off and have taken to my bed – no, not with the vapours, with the laptop…but, I’m still the procrastinator, messing about on chatty writing sites but I am writing poetry. So that’s all right then.

 

Spent my whole day off, Wednesday, lounging in this freshly-made bed, writing fresh poems, then decided about half-past-nine to pop over to the local shop for chocolate – it closes at ten. So imagine the whirl to get some kind of dressed to walk the twenty-five yards. God, I felt light-headed, on strange legs.

 

I almost sailed around that shop, musing on bargains, with a black bra hanging from the fringes of my bag! As I’d left, I felt my bag tug, and thought I’d caught the fringe in the door but was free to carry on. When I arrived back, with my bags of fun-size chockies, I noticed something black lying on the doorstep. I couldn’t believe my luck to see this bra actually jammed in the door; imagine it swinging around me, hooked from my bag – I would only have noticed it when I came to pay, with a queue of people looking on behind me!

 

This could be a new phase in my life, where I return to blogging and work on the writing more, but it might only be a fluke – time will tell. November is National Novel Writing Month so I’ll be battering away at that and, hopefully, finish the novel! We’ll see.

Sunday 5 July 2009

FREE

Oooh I've been away from this way of life for too long - think I've lost my blogging mojo! Once you get out of the habit you're kind of lost. I'm afraid I've been imprisoned by a mad sofa; it's green and very generous, soft with good spring. Actually there are two of them but the big one is the worst; it's a bully and yells at me from the minute I open my eyes - I hardly have time to get a cup of tea!

So I'm here now - what do you want to talk about? Have I finished the novel yet? Are you mad? Every time I desert the sofa and sit at the table with Lovely Laptop I end up in tidying mode or re-size photos for the web mode ... then post them on Bebo mode; or find all printed poems, put them in some kind of order - stuff them in a display book - no make that two display books; one for the published and one for everything in general. And then there's the finding old literary magazines that still stink of the fire and type my old published work into the laptop; this is not the path that leads to the end of the novel.

Today is my birthday. I might be turning over a new and more useful life - I might not...but let's be positive. This is the new 55yr old me. I think I can get some kind of cheap train travel; I was offered it eighteen months ago when buying a ticket to Aberdeen to visit Carrie...so now I really am an almost completely white-haired old lady, it's time to act like one and get the freebies - roll on the pension years and my free bus pass!

Thursday 18 June 2009

A FEW PEBBLES

1


This Lilly is a long-boned woman with legs like skewers and empty breasts lying on the furrows of ribs. Her smile comes from an old heart, strong beyond reason. She smiles at laughing visitors who kiss, kiss, kiss, planting babies in her lap and presents on the bed. She tells them that she’s had lunch, but the menu escapes her; food appears like magic - chicken is fish, porridge is soup and everything is beautiful.


2


Accents arch and murmur through the carriage.

Hills, studded with pylons clamber

over us and craggy Huddersfield snuggles

into this lost Thursday. Manchester recalls

dead people from my past and the child

conceived there on a living room carpet.


3


In Madrid, I stood

Alive, before Guernika


A LITTLE CULTURE ON THE WEEKEND


Isn't it wonderful that you can just whip out your phone and snap away when the whim takes you? Sylvia and I wandered around The Art Galleries at Kelvinhall on Monday but this is all that impressed me to photograph. These are our feet in an installation.


She is just beautiful and in the perfect setting. And the ship is actually silver but I love the gold sheen here.


The masks are too scary for Sylvia but I love them.

Wednesday 17 June 2009

WEEKENDING

Ooooh, it’s great to get back to normal; I’ve had visitors for the weekend so that means no TV and not much of the horizontal on my sofa – quite the opposite in fact. There were FOUR days of walking, tramping around and now I’m knackered. How lovely is today? Today has been all horizontal in front of the goggle-box; it was raining all morning anyway so not the kind of day to stretch legs or anything physical.


Visitors also meant preparation; I didn’t go at it with the same vitality as most people – I only did what was absolutely necessary. I purposely didn’t dust the top of the cabinet in the living room and have photographic evidence – there are still no carpets down so it is dusty here…well that’s my excuse:



I had a brilliant time and we laughed till we were sick! All those stories from schooldays and childhood; ex-husbands and lovers; drunken sprees, events and traumas; we didn’t need entertainment; there was no background music, no movies, no comedy except what burst from our mouths. Isn’t life grand?


But it’s so great to be alone again, back in hermit mode though I have made myself a few promises to leave the flat sometimes and walk a little, but I needed today to rest.

Saturday 30 May 2009

SEASONAL MAYHEM

Across George Square bare

skin sizzling: not drowning

in high factors.


Here, summer lands

like a sledgehammer.

SURPRISE!


Drop everything, Glaswegians

desperately seeking brown

burn red.


Hospitals prepare

people swear – Never again.

How many degrees?


Blisters glisten

skin dries and peels

to squeals of pain.


Bra-less and free

goose-bumps, fever

just in time for autumn.

DREAMS

Big cats settled down beside me, tame but still frightening, smacking their lips and jostling for position; they were my pets, companions since kitten-hood, loyal and enormous playthings with terrible teeth. The dreams were compelling; I slipped in and out of them and couldn’t escape, through wakings, turnings and tossing, there they were - waiting, calling me back, pinning me down.


I was comfortable, felt safe, secure and happy with them in my life but there was tension and the knowledge that they could turn into big-bad-adults and eat me at any time; I was completely aware that humans can’t always know their companions and what they’re capable of, completely.


A feminine aspect. Cats attacking you represent the enemies; if you succeed banishing them you will overcome great obstacles and rise in fortune and fame.

A dream about lions is associated with nobility, strength and pride. Your success depends upon your ability to cope with opposition. Will have a valuable friendship.

Tigers are associated with power, wild beauty and intense sexual force. You will overcome opposition and rise to a high position in your way to enjoy luxuries with ease and pleasure.

Panthers: wild beauty and grace. Enemies will fail in attempts to injure you

Leopards: enemies seek to cause injury but will fail. You will be embarrassed in business or love, but by persistent efforts you will overcome difficulties.


I think there was a mixture of these animals in my dream, but definitely lion and tiger. Of course I will lean towards the positive meanings seeing as I felt safe and aware of the dangers; so success is what I take away from this.

Friday 29 May 2009

MUSING

Oooh, just thinking about a ham and pease-pudding sandwich; I haven’t had that Geordie delicacy for years! When I first moved to the north east of England my Glaswegian nose turned up at the very thought of it and it was several years until I actually tasted it – instant love. The idea of it entered my head as I watched a character in a movie spread peanut butter on bread. Don’t know if I can get it up here.


STOP thinking about nice food. OK then. Just EAT to live – don’t LIVE to eat.


I still haven’t managed to make myself get up and out of here early and WALK into Balloch. I’ve been trying to tempt myself with the idea of looking at the boats on the river, writing in the sun (what sun?) and enjoying a coffee – I can’t even do it in the car…and it’s only about quarter of a mile! THINK of all that pleasant fresh air and a tramp through the woods or saunter along the river path.


Oh but my sofa is so lovely and the warm feeling I get from the laptop as it burns my knees…and now I’ve got stuff for sale on Ebay I can spend loads of time CHECKING for watchers!


But now I need to go get dressed and out of here for work. It’s pay-day again (not that I’ll see much of it these next two weeks) and that time of the month has come around when money is demanded with menaces so all of my excitement will come from the auctions and writing – so maybe I’d better just get right to it then.

Wednesday 27 May 2009

DUMBARTON


I drove over to Dumbarton with TocToc and GrubbyAngel; it's amazing what's on my doorstep. I haven't really gone anywhere out of the ordinary shopping and granny-duties since I moved here. This was perfect for testing the little camera I bought on Ebay for Amazon's birthday - not great weather but interesting. According to TocToc there used to be loads of boats docked here, now there's only the ruins of the docks.


What a fabulous setting for a bowling green; if I was playing there I wouldn't be able to keep my attention on the game. I took the photo from the first level of the castle on Dumbarton Rock; apparently there's over 300 steps to the top so I wasn't going any further - maybe next year if I can lose some weight and get fit.

EXCUSES

You might wonder why all the snipes at teenagers – even my daughter tells me to get over it, that I can’t tar them all with the same brush and all that cliché, but I still think of them as stupid, dumb and dangerous-to-know. The thought that my beautiful grandchildren will be going there fills me with dread.


Number one son was the teenager from hell, so he started it. We lived in an area of Newcastle that was taken over by underclass hoodlums; these dregs of society had received disturbance money to leave their council properties during renovations. Their revolting offspring tormented and burgled the hell out of us; I think I had six burglaries in three years.


It got to the stage that before I went out I’d separate the computer: the screen went in the bath with towels and dressing gown draped over it; the keyboard in my knicker drawer; and printer behind the sofa. The little brats would be hanging around in the street so I’d slip out the back door and bash round the shops in a sweat, desperate to get home. They actually kicked doors in, in broad daylight; they’d belt through the houses and be out with arms full of electrical goods within minutes. If no-one had seen them they’d return for more…and if all was still quiet they’d send in the smaller kids for the smaller stuff!


And then there were the friends of my teenager, who wanted him to come out to play in the street riots. I told them to go away, that he was grounded. They sat on the wall outside and didn’t move. Of course I was incensed – the crazy woman who probably made the situation worse; I chucked my son’s clothes out of the window, hoping that this would stop him from running off with the rabble: it didn’t. His friends picked them up for him.


What do you do when your child seems to be taken-over by a cult? You’re helpless; left with insane choices. I had fantasies of murdering them; I had this image in my head of a brightly washed Sunday morning, quiet streets littered with the dead bodies of these teenagers, the silk of their Shell-suits flashing in the sun – I had poisoned their drugs or household food or doorstep milk…there were several scenarios.


I was a wreck for years then when my son was seventeen one of the older gangsters tried to kill him. They wrecked my flat, but that’s a whole other story.


So am I excused?

Tuesday 26 May 2009

DEAR DIARY

You do realise that I didn’t go to the dentist, don’t you? I stuffed my face with Paracetamol and the pain eventually disappeared but there is an echo every now and then. Oh I’m feeling old.


When is it that you actually step over the threshold between middle-age to old-age? Oh God, I’ve just realised that at 55 I’ve already gone past middle-age! So that’s answered my question I suppose…but I don’t get my old-age pension till I’m 65 – this must be limbo.


Technically I’ll be invisible for the next decade then; I am nothing; there is no label attached; is this where I go mad? I think I’m still too young for that; too young for spitting at teenagers, whacking them with my walking stick (which I haven’t got yet) or pushing them off buses…hey wait a minute, I’ve got a car, I don’t use buses. I could run them over.


Okay, maybe I have reached the mad stage but I think I arrived there twenty years ago, so what’s new? What’s new is the fact that after this imminent birthday I will be on the very WRONG side of fifty…heading for sixty faaassssssst!

Monday 25 May 2009

F-F-F-FOURTEEN

When my daughter was fourteen I tried to kill her with an umbrella but my sisters-in-law stopped me. I had a good excuse - murder was definitely called for…if I’d had a blog then I wouldn’t have given her the name Amazon: I hated her for the best part of ten months!


That morning my sister-in-law called me; her daughter, Lindy, was staying over,

‘Where’s Amazon?’ she said.

‘In bed. They haven’t surfaced yet,’ I told her. It was about 9am.

‘Oh I think you should check on them.’ She said she would wait while I did. So I put the phone down and went to sneak a peak at them. EMPTY! They must’ve climbed out of the window. I rushed back into the living room and picked up the phone.

‘How did you know?’

‘Because Lindy was brought home by the police at five in the morning. She’d been caught talking to some boys in a stolen car.’

‘Where’s Amazon?’

‘No idea.’


So that’s why the umbrella. We searched all day and didn’t see her till after seven. As she walked into the flat her aunts had to create a circle around her to keep me from killing her; she hadn’t listened to me for months.


I wouldn’t have dared do anything like that when I was her age; the only thing that went out of our windows was ice skates; my brother and I dropped them out so that we could LIE to our mother, saying that we were going to a friend’s house. The final destination was ice skating on Queen’s Park pond.


Of course we got caught. An aunt, who lived miles away in Cumbernauld, had decided on that very day to visit. There she was, sitting on the bus that passed the park, staring out of the window, looking at us circling the bumpy ice in full view of anyone from the main road – which was miles from our house. What are the chances of that eh?


Grounded: not murdered, obviously.


My oldest grandson is fourteen and is still lovely but I don’t live with him so maybe he isn’t so lovely to his parents. There was some dissension a while ago; I pray that these little members of my family can communicate properly when the mad time arrives – I wouldn’t want to go through that again…even though I’m removed from responsibility by being grand.

Sunday 24 May 2009

Sunday 10 May 2009

OFF MY SOFA


This was the walk up the old military road into the hills above Helensburgh. Number-one-son wanted to show me a tiny loch but there wasn't time to go that far - not sure I'm fit to go that far!

All the way along the path this burn wore its way through the rocks, destoying the path here.

It was a day of tremendous showers; driving up, the hills were blanketed with clouds of rain, and then we were in it and it was like nothing you've ever seen - the power of those rain pellets was astounding...and then we were out of it, in a flash.


The skies were brilliant for camera-work but I only had my phone - it did pretty well I think.


According to TocToc, we were approaching a dam; he suddenly caught sight of a bright green patch in the landscape ahead of us (not so obvious here) and shouted, 'A dam, it's a dam!'


Look at all this walking I did!


I turned to see where I'd come from - I walked all the way up this path; you can't even see the car, sitting at the gate!

Saturday 9 May 2009

WHAT TO WRITE

Oh what fun it is prowling the corners of my imagination; the new book will be called DELILAH. I've had a great time building this plan and look forward to writing it in November; I wonder if I'll be able to write right through to the end - something I haven't done with any book yet but they were never planned to this degree. Maybe I should return to the others, waiting in the wings, and give them this treatment so that when I continue them they'll fly right off to the end.

I am awash with ideas, always, and have to keep myself from going off at tangents; all the books lying behind me are not blocked or stuck: they're only paused - there's nothing wrong with them, except me! I read a blogpost that was posted in one of my witers' forums; this man is taking his novel ideas and selling them, fully planned, themed and shaped. I think this is a fantastic idea but wonder how many writers will go for it - how will they feel about not having the original idea and doing the early work on the creation? But it all looks so wonderful on his blog, here.

Digging up the ideas and flying with them is just mind-blowing. I look at my behaviour as stocking up for the future - I doubt if I'll ever be at a loss on the subject of what to write.

Thursday 7 May 2009

AND THERE'S MORE

So, there I was, sitting in work, talking to someone on the phone but scribbling down words that were falling into my head. After that call I noted all the names on my call sheet (only first names - and some of them not real). By the end of the shift I had planned a novel! Yes, another one.

I opened a lovely new notebook last night and transposed/translated/transformed these notes into a page each for every chapter; there are eleven now. I'm thinking that I can take this to Nano in November. It'll be the first time I've planned a novel like this and the first time I've taken a whole new project to Nano.

It's about control, this novel, and I've found some pretty hysterical situations for these characters so I'm really looking forward to November; I've just been on the callendar checking the dates of my shifts so I can take time off. Two weeks off to write as much of this whacky story as I can. God, that's a long time to wait for my holidays! But I can handle it and time disappears very quickly these days.

Of course I will be taking hold of myself and not rewarding bad behaviour - so I have to finish the one I'm working on now. That means that November is my deadline, though I'll want a rest between them...October it is then. I must just check and see if my thinking period is over yet.

Monday 4 May 2009

CAMPING


Beautiful Loch Lomond; one day soon I will get myself into the routine of a regular walk around my loch. This was taken while I waited to pick the campers up...and they were only about ten minutes late - which is something.


Comedian, BlackBob and ToughGuy set out on an adventure the other weekend.


TocToc is camera-shy and therefore invisible; before I included this bit of information it might have appeared that the kids had gone camping by themselves - now wouldn't that be interesting!


TocToc demands that all his children carry their own load - ToughGuy's bag was heavier than him; he kept falling over! On the way back his bag had been incorporated into the others because the food had been eaten. He was knackered - he's only six...and he didn't complain once - well not while I was there. I dropped them off and picked them up. I've also promised to go camping and fishing with them sometime in the summer - don't hold your breath boys.

Sunday 3 May 2009

NOTIONS

What is this urge that’s taunting me to get dressed and visit the local shop for goodies, for stuff that isn’t food? I’m not hungry; I’ve eaten real food today – not traditionally with two veg or anything, but not covered in chocolate or candy either! And now I’m being attacked from the inside; there’s an army of suggestions insinuating themselves deep in my mind alongside a tricky little prompt: you can pick up some bargains for the week ahead and save money. How wily is that?


I drove to the east coast yesterday. Burnisland and Kinghorn have fabulous beaches; Tilly, Biz and I ploughed through sand, staggered over rocks and around the headland. It was an amazing trip. We stopped in Aberdour to visit The Green Witch’s little shop, where I bought yet another pack of tarot cards – they are so gorgeous, very arty: The Haindl Deck. A busy little day was had; coming out of my hermit existence is exciting but knackering. The wind blew my sensibilities inside out – exhilarating stuff indeed.


The idea of going for a walk flitted through my mind several times today but I was able to curb it with a chicken and mushroom pie! I know that to some people this sounds bad but oooh that creamy sauce and light pastry with a lovely soggy layer just underneath makes up for any hardship at missing a brisk walk.


There’s a huge floret of broccoli in the fridge but it’s not grabbing my attention; I’m thinking giant chocolate buttons! Imagine how quick I could get clothes on my back and out of here…should I do it? Will I beat the notion?

Sunday 26 April 2009

OLD AGE


The dreaded toothache has reared its massively ugly head; it seems to be coming from a tooth that was filled a few months ago that should probably have had root treatment – aaaarrgghhhhhh!!!

Well, I’m just going to tell then to pull it – it’ll be one less to drag out of my old head in the years to come; when I get my plastic gnashers.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I’m planning to return to the young dentist who made me suffer so much pain at her hands; she did a good job – I would have had the same pain during any root canal. Actually, it was the older dentist, the one I trusted who has put me in this position. Ooooh, I hate the dentist. I wish I already had the gnashers, all perfect and free from my body.

Saturday 25 April 2009

Monday 20 April 2009

POETRY READING

I've found a new thing - yes me, the technophobe...and I've spent three hours tonight trying to work out how to export from one format to MP3 but I did it! So, for your delectation, here I am reading a couple of poems! ta ra...





there's a tiny little triangle, play button in the right hand corner above the Download track option - you don't need to download.

Saturday 18 April 2009

A FOOT AHEAD

Well, I finally found myself clicking into the novel this evening and working on it! I’m at the stage of reorganising the first three chapters and have been cutting, pasting and moving sections and paragraphs around. By golly I think I’ve got it – so I’ll be able to move on, cut/pad and write to the end.

Those three chapters were all over the place; now I’m a happy writer, I think. No, I know I’m happy, that I’m glad to see the words settle into their right place. I can’t wait to see the stuff I wrote for Nano in November; I’ve never even read through it because Nano means you push towards the end and don’t go back to edit.

I’ve been saying to myself that this novel is going to be finished this year. Is it? Maybe it’s time I wrote out the plan and pinned it on the walls; because there actually is a plan but it’s still inside my head. In the end I had to put on my spring-cleaning head and ask each chapter, what are you doing? So now I’m beginning with an event that happened near the end of the third; it places everyone so must be the start, mustn’t it?

There are about 40,000 words written, just waiting for me to tug them into shape then take them for a long walk, a walk that stretches right through the summer in my characters’ lives and leads to the sound of my printer zizzing and chuffing the lovely paper out. I’ve never printed any of the novels – that’s part of the end.