Present and Sometimes Functional

Present Now

2011-09-08T12:17:00.001+01:00

No, I haven’t been running to catch up with this blog; it has lain, bereft of my attention all year. Now I come to think of it, nothing startling or out of the ordinary has happened in my personal or family life – well that’s my excuse. So, apologies for absence and now I’m here I’ll think of something to wave at you.

I’ve just joined something called Postcrossing. It’s a kind of postcard pen-pal thing spreading across the world...and me, being the instant obsessive that I am, have already ordered 200 postcards online. So I’m ready to begin; I’ve always got postcards on hand, and I’ve just finished the August Postcard Poetry thingy.

The sun is shining in Scotland and blue sky is flying high above us. The only darkness on my doorstep is the fact that once I go out in it my purse will get lighter by the minute until all the bills are paid and I crawl back to lick my wounds. But, there’s home-made soup and only a few days until the next wage.

Oh woe is me. But, life is to be lived – poor or not. I’m smiling at the blue sky and thinking about what to have for breakfast, now that it’s lunch-time.

JOURNAL EXCERPTS

2011-05-20T12:46:00.001+01:00

Just a wee catch-up:

19.4.11 Tuesday

Today, on day 4 of the diet, I refused free shortbread with my coffee and walked up 32 stairs at Queen St station instead of taking the lift! There's hope for me yet...but oh dear gods there are 2 Easter eggs in the house!!!!

15.5.11 Sunday

I feel satisfied with myself because I cleared the desk and the armchair in my room – what a good girl am I? Got Trina coming to spend the weekend next week so I suppose I should do a little more housework. There is an alarming thought in my head that I might look at an exercise video and then partake of the contortions therein BUT we don't want to do that! Do we? No, we bloody don't. But I do need to fit on that plane in two weeks so maybe if I throw myself about a bit I'll deserve a medal...or at least all the fabulous alcohol I intend consuming, carbs or not.

It's been a really chilled-out day. I sang at my iTune favourite playlist, nodding and bobbing and now that I've been fed I might get back to some more Buffy. There was writing done last night and lots of thinking done today so I'll cut me some slack and relax.

16.5.11 Monday

Me, myself and I had a party on YouTube and Facebook last night with what was left of the Tia Maria - the music was fabulous! You should've been there. Then we finished off the night with a few episodes of Buffy season 4, some of my absolute favourites – the ones with Spike tied up and the Native Americans with bows n arrows, and the engagement. We laughed my head off.

Now, I need to get up and go to work in the rain but I'll always have the memories.

16.5.11 Wednesday

I've just spent £105 in Asda! But that includes holiday clothes and bargain bras, computer speakers, hair dye and a little food. I'll have to go buy some more Tia Maria 'cause I finished it while playing on YouTube and Facebook the other night – that's where drinking alone gets you!

RESOLUTIONS FOR 2011

2011-01-01T12:36:00.001Z

Resolutions that contain a modicum of hope in being fulfilled:

1. Evict laziness from my life by actually doing the thing I think about when I think about it.

2. Step outside the flat every day at least once, even if it’s only to take out rubbish – smell real life going on.

3. Do more writing and creative activities than passive watching of the box.

4. Read the piles of books on my shelves and write reviews.

5. Settle down and finish editing (begin) the work in progress.

6. Lay the hall carpet – this year for sure!

Well, that doesn’t sound too difficult and there are very good reasons to ensure I carry them out. But, I’m already feeling the laziness attacking me from my bed and suggesting that I stay here today instead of going out; I took all the rubbish out last night and it’s too dull outside for good photography. My eyes are killing me because of the dust I disturbed while preparing for Christmas – and I’m digesting feedback from the new first chapter plus the eyes are not up to reading too much…and if I even attempt to lay that carpet the dust will get into my lungs and kill me!

There’s always tomorrow, and tomorrow and the days after.

Oh and don't forget number 7

7. Lose weight.

LAST POST OF THE YEAR

2010-12-31T23:53:00.001Z

It will be 2011 in ten minutes, so I’m taking some of those minutes to sum the year up. Yes it was good for me; I wrote a whole first draft of a novel in November! That deserves some applause, and I’ve managed to make the living room look warm and lived in – so it’s more presentable now. There’s still a lot to do to this flat but I’m happy with what I’ve done so far.

Excuse me while I go pour myself an enormous glass of Tia Maria – I’ll be back…

Mmmm, that is gorgeous.

Yes, there will be resolutions to gather and carry out; Tia Maria and Cadbury’s Caramel are just the things to help me with thinking them up. There’s a dog barking – he must’ve been sent out as someone’s first foot! Quiet now, they’ve let him in; I wonder if he was sporting whisky or vodka.

PRIORITIES

2010-11-26T14:52:00.000Z

It’s freezing but narry a snowflake in sight, thank God, and I’m shawled-up waiting for the cold to hit my nose before I put the heating on. Life isn’t hard – I just don’t want to waste good money on heat when I can spend it on books and tarot cards. We all have choices to make and different priorities.

Number 2 son gave me the £300 he owed me the other week and I immediately buzzed into town in an attempt to buy myself some electrical/techno gadget so it wouldn’t fall into the housekeeping budget (or, God forbid, go towards paying a bill). No siree – that’s not what free money is for.

I bought myself a little baby laptop, a 10 inch pink gorgeous thing that actually fits perfectly into a bag I’d crocheted earlier. So that’s £200 done and the shops were closing so I went home and treated myself to a Chicken Korma. It was two days later that I got the chance to go out again and, following a TV advert, I tootled along to Asda and bought: a Kodak 12 million pixel camera for 49 quid, a digital photo frame, a toaster and a jug blender. So that’s me sorted for life.

Is it really? I say that about every camera or phone or laptop I buy and yet a couple of years later there I am at it again! I feel good, that in continually forking out to Musician all year I’d saved that money so it also feels as if I’ve acquired all this stuff for nothing. I really should have bought a new washing machine seeing at the corpse in my kitchen will never do any kind of job again, but you can’t waste free money on things like washing machines. Well, I can’t. I’ll save some money in a jar, and in the meantime hand-wash and dry it on the radiators when the heating is on – and I don’t create a lot of laundry.

Meanwhile, I’m waiting for my Ebay and Amazon buys to batter their way through the Christmas post. What are they? Why, books and tarot cards of course.

SCARY TIMES

2010-10-09T00:37:00.001+01:00

While biting down on a lovely chocolate, I broke my crown. Yes folks, I lost my front tooth! Snap and out it came; this was during a shift so when the phone rang I had to work and talk as if I was a whole woman with a mouthful (almost) of teeth. And, it was a Friday night, and I leave for work early on a Monday and finish at six – gappy ‘til Tuesday, at least.

As it turned out, I’m still gappy. It’s been stuck back on and since fallen back off while I wait to see if my Tax Credit covers the cost of treatment, which is considerable because the lovely new dentist has diagnosed me as possibly suffering from an autoimmune condition called Sjogren’s Syndrome. In the 18 months since I’ve seen a dentist my four crowns are dead in the water and I need about five fillings, two of them root-canal. Apparently because I have dry mouth from a saliva problem the acid attacks the teeth… and this is one of the main symptoms of Sjogren’s… and I’ve had the saliva thing going on for about twenty years.

So, is there anyone out there in the doctor’s office collating these symptoms? No, it seems not.

The lovely dentist said that she would pass my case on to the dental hospital’s medical department, so I await that appointment as well as the news about when they can begin my treatment and I can get new crowns before the others take off too…

Meanwhile, I called my medical centre and booked a non-urgent appointment with the only doctor I’ve seen there, and like. That took two weeks, and now I’m waiting for the results of the blood tests. Amongst other things, she is testing for Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis. Scary stuff. I feel old now, and all the aches and pains I was experiencing thinking they were just old age creeping up on me are taking on a huge aspect of early death!

But I’m okay really. Well, I’m a canny and very sensible Scot and I’ll take my medicine, take what’s coming for me and just get on with it.

So, I suppose I should really pay more attention to my health and try to lose a lot of weight. I’ve been re-writing my old diet blog because I want to keep it up to follow the madness that is me on a diet. Fatty McSlob is now a page attached to my writing blog. I’ve added pictures and hope it’s funny enough to keep a reader’s attention. I’ll catch it up to date soon.

This is my fifth day without chocolate, cake or biscuits. Pat me on the back!

THOSE WERE THE DAYS (my friend)

2010-08-28T00:44:00.003+01:00

I lived deep in a community when I was a child. Everyone knew who did what, when, where and gossiped it behind closed doors or into ears behind a flat hand. The tyrant grandmother had lived there from before the builders left; she knew all and everything. None of that mattered to me – my life skipped rope, threw two balls against any wall and delved into the RSD.

The RSD had been an internment camp during the war and even though it had gates, they’d been pried open long enough for grass to grow and an invitation thrown out. It was heaven. We spent whole days in there, often without lunch, and would come home filthy and starving at tea-time. The choice of adventure might lie with the froggy-pond, the Monkey-puzzle tree, the old house, the burn, the rope swing or little brick houses/kennels that we called the Zig-zags (because of the roofs). When there were no boys with us, we girls brushed them out and played house; we built armchairs with loose bricks and served up a dinner of wild strawberries or brambles on leaves.

My grandchildren and their like will never have this kind of experience. Camping with their father, and days in the big parks might echo remnants but could never leave the same impression.

People only stayed indoors when it rained. In the late 50s early 60s there was no day-time television except for a lunch-time programme and the news. On warm evenings my mother would put a pillow out on the window ledge of the front room, and watch us play a game of Rounders in the street. She spoke to every passer-by. I don’t remember anyone on our small street having a car so we had an empty road to play in and hardly ever had to move…except for the ice-cream van. Oh, the games we played in that street: Kick the Can and Olevio were different versions of Hide and Seek. One version was played in the dark with torches to root us out of the huge back gardens – spooky; they still had bomb-shelters up the middle. Sometimes the younger adults would join us and the oldies hung out of the windows.

Those were the days of long, hot summers when the tar of the roads and pavements melted and spoiled our white ankle socks. I wore Clark’s sandals and home-made cotton dresses that appeared years later in patchwork quilts. All the boys wore short trousers until they went to the big school after the eleven-plus. Dirt loved us and scabby knees were compulsory. Time stood still but it must have been moving because here I am – heading for sixty and wondering where it’s all gone.

All the paddling in burns, catching minnows and firing stones at water-rats, has made me the individual I am. We also caught bees, tadpoles, newts and frogs. I am ashamed to say that we tortured the bees in cans of water and cooked them on fires; we pulled the wings and legs off Daddy-long-legs…and my brother once deep-fried a newt in my mother’s chip pan. Of course I shopped him and he got thumped after Mum threw the whole pan out in the bin!

On Saturdays our street gang would go to the ABC Minors in Shawlands, and the big kids would look after the little ones – this was a twenty-minute bus ride away. During school holidays we’d go swimming, again in the same group, and the big kids taught us to swim. These big kids would maybe be about twelve, and there were only two of them – in charge of six or seven others at varying ages; that wouldn’t be allowed now.

Thinking of this reminds me of that movie Stand by Me where the boys go in search of a boy’s body; it’s from a Stephen King story that completely captures what it was like to be a kid in those (safe) days. Those days are long gone.

WHAT HAVE I DONE LATELY?

2010-08-14T20:19:00.000+01:00

Joined the gym. Honest to God, I did! Last Sunday I experienced my induction and made a pile of promises. I was supposed to take part in an exercise class on Wednesday but my grandchildren dragged me around Balloch park instead, which did the job. But, if I had written my status on Facebook on Thursday it would’ve read: Many Kit-Kats later, I remembered that healthy eating was supposed to be on the menu from this week.

I’d already warned my grandchildren that if they felt an earthquake then that would be me in the gym.

‘I never heard an earthquake, Granny,’ my granddaughter said, during our tour of the park.

‘That’s because I haven’t been back yet. Keep your ears open.’

Maybe I’ll go tomorrow. I told Carrie about it on the phone today and she said she’d text me. We’ll see. Meanwhile, two Magnum ice-lollies later, I’m thinking of popping out to the shop for chocolate.

I have been good though, on the writing side of life, and worked very hard on poems for the Scotia Poet Laureate competition at the end of the month…and there is also the Poetry Scotland event at Callander the weekend after. Looking forward to stewing myself in all that lovely poetry – well I hope it’ll be GOOD rather than lovely.

Still gripped in the arms of audio books and am presently diving into the cannon of Orson Scott Card; some of his work is brilliant, and so addictive that I just move on to the next book in the series; I’m on the last one of the Enderverse series – fantastic stories.

It’s so hard to believe that we’re racing towards the end of another year – and I still haven’t got carpet laid in the hall! Time doesn’t wait for old women – it just belts along and doesn’t care if we catch up or not.

I also cut my hair – actually made a right mess of it; it’s not as easy to cut decent chunks off long hair as it is to crop or style. It reached my bum but now that I’ve cut about eight inches off, it seems even thicker and unmanageable. Think I’ll just go the whole hog and cut it into a bob. Another we’ll see.

There's Sense in them there Hills

2010-06-26T20:37:00.003+01:00

Last Sunday, our Scottish summer hit the highlights and I got fried – I was sitting in the woods for God’s sake! There I was, relaxing on picnic benches in dappled shade, with flashes of direct sunshine on my arms and face. Oh I was hot stuff all right; hot for three days, with a crispy nose and forehead. My arms were so swollen that the blood supply to m hands was restricted. I thought I was dying and almost took the day off work on Monday. What a daft old bat…and after me writing that scathing poem about Glaswegians diving into sunburn whenever the sun pokes its head at us.

Look how sensible Tilly was:

This is her showing off my dream house, that wonderful arched doorway in a tree trunk!

And here we have Picnic-Mama with everything you could possibly want on a low carb, vegetatian diet! F.A.B.

Picnics in woods by a loch, where big white carbs are banned, so that meant no wine too - Ooh, the ring of bright water surrounded us with health and sensibility.

A NEW DAY

2010-06-07T23:51:00.001+01:00

First thing I do when I open my eyes in the morning is check the time and work out what I'm supposed to be doing, then I switch on the laptop. So, how does the day escape? Is sucked into my evil clutches to be dawdled and frittered away while my mind flits across the net, forgetting that time is of the essence?

I confess – I am a time-waster. I need rules. The year has half-gone; last time looked it was spring.

Tonight is my first appointment with the health and fitness trainer. The doctor referred me in order to regain any future that might be allotted to me. There will be rules and regulations there.

I need to take a ruler and draw a margin down the side of my life, insert some kind of time-table, measure action against inaction – do the accounts before they become due because this inspector isn’t collecting tax!

Good health has followed me all the days of my life, so far, but if I don’t pay attention it might desert me for another – maybe it’ll have an affair with the woman across the road… God knows she needs it.

I confess; I have been careless and uncaring, presumptuous of time but now the borderline is racing towards me. Where are my manners? I should welcome a new world order and set the table with a freshly-embroidered cloth, and, plant a menu in the centrepiece to catch my wandering eye.

Much later…

Well, my fears were justified; two readings of high blood pressure put a stop to the proceedings until I see my doctor to discover if it’s a fluke or a problem. Am I late? Too late for a very important date? Put your scythe away Reaper, I’ll be battering down the door of the health centre in the morning. I’ll be back.

IT'S JUNE - AT LAST!

2010-06-05T00:41:00.004+01:00

Maria MacKee wildly sings Show me Heaven…leave me breathless, in my ear and the wind blasts me from across the loch. I marched here – honest I did, but I stopped at MacDonalds on the way for coffee and a small chicken mayo sandwich.

Someone was sitting on my bench so I had to take another further back, so the view is not so nice…except that a man has just stripped off in front of me and gone swimming. He stopped to rub Vaseline under his arms and on his inner thighs. Oh that water will be cold; the sun’s hot rays barely touch us here.

See what I mean? That is a grey outlook. Now the midges are crowding me and Springsteen is crooning Secret Garden. Mmmm. As my brave swimmer went into the water Alexandra Burke sang her Hallelujah. There is no sun, just grey clouds and a light wind – a fine day for swimming in a Scottish loch, I don’t think.

I can see his arms curving out of the water way over the other side; this is the beginning of the loch, just to the left of where the river Leven enters. My lovely iPod Touch is loving being switched to music today, as opposed to books – that helped me march. I swung my old and lazy self a quarter of a mile to get here to completely fabulous sounds…and now it’s While my Guitar Gently Weeps.

My bench became free and I flew up the steps to sit on my little promontory to face my mountain with The Sundays wonderful Static and Silence in my ears. The swimmer is trawling around the bay and sometimes across to the wooden poles (don’t know what you call them). That’s some work-out.

Oh I’ve let my hair down – can’t remember the last time I did that, probably never, not at this length. It’s too heavy for the wind to lift and just lies down my back. Bruce is belting out, These are better days. It is so fabulous to be sitting here feeling the wind and sun on my face with the loch at my feet. The water doesn’t make the sound of waves lapping at a shore; it’s more like a river running. I need to get out more.

TRUTH & FICTION

2010-04-18T12:53:00.001+01:00

Aye, the years are fair drawing in; I’ve been thinking about dying, and how it could come all too soon. Really, I have pondered on the fact that my family are not long-lived and I might only have a very small amount of time left to do the things I want to do. Hopefully I will be the exception and will bang on ‘til I’m a centurion. Mostly, I want to see my grandchildren grow up but the fact is, that the longer I live the more likely it’ll be that I’ll lose a child and I definitely don’t want that.

So, to be that selfish I will have to be tough enough to keep going through the loss of my friends and writing buddies, and whatever the barmy politicians drag us into – the way they’re going the western world could be wiped out this decade!

Someone recently asked, why do you write? I said I wanted to entertain my future progeny with true stories, and strangers with my fiction and poetry. It’s so easy, these days, to communicate and spread our personal history; we can tell the stories that would have died with us.

When I was a child I loved to sit and listen to the adults talking, gossiping and telling tales of old childhoods; my children had only a little time to spend on that because technology was interfering; my grandchildren won’t have a minute to allow old tales to sink into their memory. I hope there will be at least one amongst those future grandchildren, however great, who will be a reader and perhaps a writer, but interested in what has gone before.

I have experienced a lot in my life, and the horror is hysterical in its own way – I will make it attractive and someone will read it, I’m sure. But, I’m having fun learning how to show them how it was for me…of course, I’ll fictionalise the sexy bits so they won’t know what’s true to me or someone else. Ordinary life will be straight and true.

EATING THAT FISH

2010-03-27T23:06:00.001Z

The idea was to invite those who eat fish over to mine; I would cook number-three grandson’s catch and serve it up. So, the menu was:

Sea trout – cooked with lemon

Chips

Tomato ketchup

followed by

Marshmallows for pudding

I travelled across town by bus to pick up the three youngest and bounciest of my son’s children, and took them to the park for an hour – hoping to run the little devils calm. It didn’t work. Enthusiastically independent, they soon had me exhausted – it’s taken me all evening to get over it all!

The fish was lovely but they didn’t eat it because it was a real live (dead) animal and not covered in batter or breadcrumbs. An experiment gone wrong; they’re too young for real life.

What a great idea to have marshmallows for pudding – one half of the table racing the other to see how many we could eat.

I am so glad to be back in my hermit status; the flat has been trembling at the memory of their visit and things are almost back to normal.

When I returned them to their happy and relaxed parents, Bingo was laughing at the thought of me being in her shoes…and that was only with three of them and only for four hours! Oooh, I feel so old.

The Fisherman

2010-02-20T23:12:00.005Z

Number 3 grandson caught his first fish - it's big enough to make his father jealous... and, it will be moving to a freezer near me verrrry soon!

I've given myself a deadline for the 1st of March to begin my healthy eating lifestyle, again. Out goes all the chocolate and in with all the fish, meat and eggs and green veg I can muster. Sad, but inevitable :(

PILLARS OF THE WORLD

2010-02-17T00:13:00.001Z

This is the first book I’ve read this year, and I loved it. I was sucked into this world from the beginning and read it in a week – which is good for me.

Written by Anne Bishop who is the author of the bestselling Black Jewels Trilogy – well that’s what it said on the cover. I’m researching Fantasy as a genre because I want to write something witchy and magicky, so had called for suggestions. What a wonderful start; a very satisfying read.

The story drags us into a world where a struggle between humans and Fae has existed for generations; witches live in a kind of peace between them until the arrival of the witch-hunter.

It is written from many points of view which immediately gives the reader the three stars of the show in three quite short chapters. Something mysterious is happening to the world of the Fae, the witch-hunter is killing a witch, Death’s Mistress is gathering the dead, and our young MC is being treated unkindly in the village. What more could you want? I read on, and on. My first taste of Fantasy since I was a teenager is a success, I’m glad to report.

And now I have to choose another. I’ve had a great time these last few weeks, swapping books, and the day that five books were stuffed through my letter box was definitely red letter. Imagine, watching the postman squeezing all these brown parcels into that hole in the door – so fast that I couldn’t get to it to open it for him! I’ve abandoned a Terry Pratchet, The Wee Free Men and don’t think I’ll go back to it, yet. The Name of the Wind is calling to me so I might answer it first.

THE LONG HAUL

2010-02-10T10:18:00.000Z

I’m saying goodbye to my old writing community; after three years it’ll seem strange not to click in there for a chat, but it’s time to move on, for a while. I might return at some point because it feels like home. I’m a bit like a teenager, running off to join the circus – belting out into the world to see what kind of life I can make for myself. More like what kind of trouble I can get myself into! No – I’m too old for trouble.

And, I’ve got a new one to pick up the pieces, to critique my blunders and help me shape this novel that feels as if it’s on the road to the end. This week I posted what I thought was a well-edited version of Chapter Two but there were a couple of great slovenly elephants sitting right in the middle of it! Cheek. Litopia has so many brilliant eyes and opinions that a writer can’t help but improve because of it. It’ll do me.

As the years went on, I neglected my old group, Women’s Fiction on WriteWords. I also neglected my writing but I keep the online friends I found there and hope to always have them around, in the ether, in the world of writers and artists – some of them are in Litopia too. Maybe all roads lead to this utopia for writers. I know that I’ve trawled and tried many, many groups and communities, as have a lot of fellow Litopians – so I’ve moved in lock stock and smoking barrel.

WriteWords is worth every penny of its yearly fee; it served me very well. Over the years I was also part of several other communities and enthusiastically took part in all sorts of writing games and exercises but now I need to settle down for the long haul; it’s time I was serious and put my nose to the ground/grind. I think Litopia is the grown-up place, the colony where career is held up to a mirror and you have to see your real self - not a picture of Dorian Gray.

My Bench at Loch Lomond

2010-02-09T15:57:00.000Z

THE SUN IN MY FACE

2010-02-08T21:29:00.002Z

On my way into work on the train; a train with a pretty clean window, for a change but the scene is not as stunning as it was the last two Mondays - but interesting.

I like the red blob; wonder whatever happened to the clown it might've been attached to!

There's something so peaceful about this - kind of holy, isn't it.

I'd like to live here, in a castle keep of my very own.

HAPPIER

2010-02-07T00:38:00.003Z

I have just discovered Google Docs. How F.A.B. is that? I was prowling the app store looking for something to hold and move files, found a cheap office thing that invited me to connect with the Google Docs and I love it. I've never really used Google except to search...and here it's got all these lovely functions and stuff! You might not see me for days - weeks even!

So I've copied loads of bits of stories and ALL the novels over there so I can edit, write as the mood takes me when I'm out and somewhere with wifi. I've been inspired to blog three times tonight; once in my DIET blog too. Only good can come of this.

Well, What a Surprise - not

2010-02-06T19:24:00.001Z

Well, I think I’ve battered Chapter One into the right kind of shape. Now I can push through the next four chapters to get to the muddy bit; the bit that hadn’t been written/created before I dived into Nano. This is where I have to take myself in hand and do the Billy Connolly impression – ‘Appreciate Cunningham, appreciate!’ to which I must reply, ‘Sir. Yes sir!’

I can feel the excitement bubbling up; the idea that I’m going to write through the missing middle of this book and eventually write the ending that’s just appeared in front of me (with a bit of help from Lulu) makes me want to freeze everything around me. I will sit down and do it, as much as I can as often as I can…but I’m still me – lazier than a sloth!

Internet and writing forums are my life blood but I don’t have to keep checking every ten minutes – I could get a whole paragraph done in the time I waste popping in and out of sites. Maybe a timetable would work. Pshaw! (I think that’s how they say that) ‘Know thyself!’ (Is that a bible quote?) This is just a little hump in the middle; it’s not a huge bloody mountain – it’s just that if feels like work. I like to slide along on the seat of my pants – do things off the cuff at the last minute.

I’ve been in this area for almost/about 15 months and am only now changing my doctor – days before I need my repeat prescription! It takes two weeks to get an introductory appointment so I have to go two days without my medication and pick up the scrip at the old place on Monday. Slap me now. Yes, I know I’ve demanded that before.

When I started this entry I didn’t plan on battering myself but it was inevitable.

TWINKLE

2010-01-21T00:58:00.001Z

Thinking about fairies, my mind springs into a land of lilac and green. My whole bedroom is painted lilac (I was given the paint) and I stuck luminous stars on the ceiling with a crescent moon (was given them too) to bring a little magic into my life. The light shade is pale blue, an upside down cotton, four-sided pyramid with a tassel dangling about breast-height (this was another gift). If I could just get up off my arse and accessorise it would be little-people heaven, with crystals and all sorts of witchy bobbles. Actually, the ceiling is the only part of the room that could be called finished!

Though, I can feel the energy and impulse to lay carpets and style the walls with whacky and wonderful pictures, returning. The ideas sit in front of my eyes as I aim for sleep and slip back when I wake every morning. Soon, I tell myself, soon – but it’s almost the end of January already! I moved in here fifteen months ago and am still treading floorboards, looking at bare walls.

I suppose I could think of the flat as a new novel, or an autobiography, or an art journal; I’ve just bought a beautiful book about keeping an art journal, and created the first page. There are no fairies on that page but I have a lovely key-hook bar-thingy with fairies and tulips on the ends…and there’s a gorgeous pewter fairy who has lost her feet – I need to pin her up somewhere.

All my pretty things need homes; they want to be a part of my space – instead of hiding in drawers, cupboards, boxes and shelves. So, I shall spread my wings, sprinkle my fairy dust and wave my wand until this flat twinkles with eccentricity.

BABY STEPS

2010-01-13T13:01:00.003Z

These legs were made for walking, and that’s just what they did. I walked into Alexandria yesterday, and this photograph is the proof that I was on a pavement. It wasn’t so bad, and only took about ten minutes. Of course you know that my first stop was a café, where I rested with my £1.40 latte and mused at the audacity of this extreme exercise. Then I took out the lovely iPod Touch and had a read of The Circular Staircase.

Being out in the world without wheels is strange, especially when you don’t have the luxury of the Glasgow underground to carry you super-quickly into town or the west end. I’ve only been in this area for about fifteen months and really don’t know much about the buses but as soon as the weather brightens I might remedy that with an all-day bus ticket on one of my days off. That’s a plan.

And I’m planning to do it all again today. I got a bus back yesterday, with a haul of books from the charity shop. All I need to do is get up and out of this flat. Oh but the sky is dull and grey and not inviting at all. There is no milk or toilet roll. It’s a new year and the universe has set me upon a new path so I should embrace it and socialise these old bones. Right, I’m up. I’m going.

LOCH LOMOND IN THE SNOW

2010-01-12T17:51:00.006Z

And here's my loch, skirted with that long-lasting white stuff! That is my bench, on the point of land. A fantastic position to muse.

Ooh isn't it stunning? Even using the phone camera I've captured magic.

Give a little wave to The Maid of the Loch!

Just discovered that my real camera is broken - thank the gods for the phone :-)

What a great writing table!

TIMING; Belt or Otherwise

2010-01-11T14:54:00.001Z

A belt snapped and off went my Clio to the scrap-yard, to be ripped apart. What health bounds before me on these legs? Shall I walk everywhere or wait for buses? I could stride towards the train; a half-way trip of exercise and relaxation – more reading!

The life of a passenger might not be quite so bad. There, I’ve talked myself into it, a quiet happiness and more money…but then I’d be able to pay my debts so actually less money to me, but a more settled life and future.

Yes, this is a whole new way of life. When I was in Glasgow I lived beside the subway and could walk to work – though I always took the subway for that one stop. But this is almost the Highlands! It takes over an hour to get to Glasgow on the bus; it would take me days to get to work! Well, that’s an exaggeration. A long time, but I could spend all that time reading. I like that. I haven’t had a lot of time for reading recently on account of fannying about on the net.

So, everything in front of me is rosy. That romantic far off future where everything is perfect and dreams come true. The truth of it is the reality of public transport and our notoriously changeable weather. I can work from home, for the moment, but as soon as my boss can change my shifts to all days I’ll be out in the cold, waiting for a bus – with my book.

Meanwhile, I’ll be saving up all the money I’m not paying to get to work, to buy a new old banger!

A NEW DIARY

2010-01-06T18:58:00.002Z

Last year I kept a mundane diary and I’m glad it’s done; it was pretty boring, except for a few exciting bits, like my granddaughter rushed to hospital with Meningitis and a grandson kidnapped by his useless father and taken to live in Birmingham.

So, when my daughter gave me another diary for Christmas I nearly had a fit. It’s okay, it’s not full page days. I’ve taken on the task of filling this book with a poem for each day (or just a scribble in poetic form)…and without further ado, I present to you, the first few days of 2010:

1^st

Ooh the yearly eating and drinking

not driving home but staying overnight

at someone’s pleasure is becoming stale –

next year I might forgo the alcoholic part

and drive back to my controlled space

where I depend only on myself, and the patience

of Npower regarding old, multiplying bills.

Already, the change is upon me; it sifts possibilities

I feel pregnant with it all.

2^nd

Editing, so that someone can sit in judgement

announce me writerly enough for full membership

of their community – makes me want to sit up

pay attention to the change that’s coming.

I am not the same as I was.

3^rd

Ooh the last of five days off – it hovers

and drips away. A new year waits in the corners

normality will assume its position and settle

around my shoulders like a boa constrictor.

4^th

The first alarm of the year sounds itself

too early in this snow-laden gloom

I wish it to Hell and gone, wish for solid riches

to pay bills, to shoulder the burden

of my existence while I play with words.

Come hither, First Novel

end your days with me.

Let me type those two words, The End

on your gravestone

for this is the year of your birth.

5^th

The white world of 2010 stretches our patience –

this is not Norway; we didn’t sign-up for this ice

and our cars are a constant worry. God

give us the power to stay on our feet

and not break bones or skid off roundabouts.

Let the raindrops fall and we’ll never complain

again. We want to feel the warmth of soft

Scottish rain on our hair, see it carry away

the snow, slush and ice…and wash our cars.

I LOVE MY PHONE

2010-01-02T20:05:00.000Z

I LOVE MY CAR

2010-01-02T19:58:00.000Z

PORTENT

2010-01-01T12:20:00.000Z

Oh my God. I’ve just begun the first day of the new decade with an iron in my hand! I haven’t touched an iron in years. What does this mean?

Well, it started because I made myself a new bag, that had to be pressed flat, so while I was doing that I thought I’d iron a shirt that I can’t wear because I won’t (normally) iron. One little detail and my life has slipped down some kind of housewifey tangent; I’ll have to do something more normal to reset the balance. I had a Scotch egg for breakfast – could that be considered too straight because of the ingredients? And now I’m on to the ginger beer.

In two hours I will be sipping sherry, preparing to scoff an enormous meal at my friend’s enormous dinner table in her enormous dining room, then on to wine which inevitably leads to a change of rooms and the whisky – Ooh the whisky. So I’d better go find something suitable to wear for this gathering and dig out an entertaining poem to read.

STAR STRING

2010-01-01T03:57:00.001Z

There was something strange in the sky tonight. A little while ago I went into the kitchen to see if I could see the Blue moon and instead noticed a star really sparkling. The longer I looked at it the longer it became, until it resembled a string of stars, like maybe three or five, going down in a line. Very weird. I opened the window to see properly in case it was the double glazing affecting my eyesight but it was really real. Actually, I’ll just go and see if it’s still there – hang on…No, the sky is swamped in a great stretch of grey cloud, but I’ll have another look before I settle down and try to sleep, again.

So I begin the new decade sleepless; maybe this is part of my old age, that I’ll only ever need a few hours of sleep a couple of times a night – all the more time to write!

HAPPY NEW YEAR

2009-12-31T23:56:00.002Z

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. :-)

BBrrrrrr

2009-11-17T12:25:00.004Z

...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!

HOWZ IT ALL GOING THEN?

2009-11-12T15:21:00.001Z

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.

APOLOGIES FOR BEING BONKERS

2009-11-11T02:33:00.001Z

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

2009-11-11T00:16:00.001Z

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?

THE KISS OF LIFE

2009-11-08T18:07:00.004Z

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.

REALITY

2009-11-07T18:03:00.001Z

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.

OUT BUT NOT ABOUT - Well not much

2009-11-04T18:25:00.002Z

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.

NaNo Begins

2009-11-03T18:41:00.001Z

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.

A DAY OF RAINBOWS

2009-10-31T16:11:00.002Z

'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.

MEETING UP WITH ORACLE

2009-10-29T02:34:00.001Z

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.

WHO ARE WE?

2009-10-25T15:56:00.001Z

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.

BACK IN THE SADDLE - Maybe

2009-10-24T12:02:00.001+01:00

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.

FREE

2009-07-05T12:49:00.003+01:00

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!

A FEW PEBBLES

2009-06-18T12:56:00.007+01:00

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.

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.

In Madrid, I stood

Alive, before Guernika

A LITTLE CULTURE ON THE WEEKEND

2009-06-18T12:32:00.005+01:00

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.

WEEKENDING

2009-06-17T16:29:00.006+01:00

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.

SEASONAL MAYHEM

2009-05-30T21:59:00.001+01:00

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

2009-05-30T21:33:00.005+01:00

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.

MUSING

2009-05-29T15:12:00.002+01:00

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.

DUMBARTON

2009-05-27T16:22:00.005+01:00

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

2009-05-27T11:35:00.004+01:00

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?

DEAR DIARY

2009-05-26T12:19:00.002+01:00

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!

F-F-F-FOURTEEN

2009-05-25T20:24:00.003+01:00

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.

POETRY

2009-05-24T20:01:00.000+01:00

OFF MY SOFA

2009-05-10T19:12:00.004+01:00

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!

WHAT TO WRITE

2009-05-09T16:13:00.004+01:00

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.

AND THERE'S MORE

2009-05-07T11:40:00.003+01:00

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.

CAMPING

2009-05-04T23:02:00.007+01:00

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.

NOTIONS

2009-05-03T19:48:00.004+01:00

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?

OLD AGE

2009-04-26T23:09:00.004+01:00

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.

THE BOSS

2009-04-25T02:08:00.000+01:00

POETRY READING

2009-04-20T22:45:00.004+01:00

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.

A FOOT AHEAD

2009-04-18T22:30:00.001+01:00

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.

MENTAL DENTAL

2009-04-15T23:46:00.000+01:00

Anticipation milks pale courage, drills clean holes. My legs are shaking still because this life demands the actuality of teeth with bite. Yes I ran away, or rather didn’t return for that last problem, the one where during the examination he’d shaken his head and said, ‘Ooh I’m very suspicious of that one.’

I made a sensible decision; there was no pain so if it had to come out I’d have no relief, only pain for nothing! I thought I’d wait for the pain. Now the bloody thing is breaking. I’ve got jagged shards slicing at my tongue – still no pain though.

My mind is buzzing with images of dental pliers seeking a hold on what’s left of my old molar. Of course there will be LOADS of drugs involved. I haven’t had a tooth out for years! It might be years before I have another one out, but no – I must take hold of myself and go get it done while there’s still something left to grip.

I will screw my courage to the sticking place and dive right in…yeah right.

SUPER HERO, ANYONE?

2009-04-13T20:21:00.001+01:00

What would you wear? I’m definitely not a blue tights and red wellies sort of person; I’d have to wear black or a mixture of browns – normality means invisibility. Actually, just being a short and dumpy woman gives me that already; it’s a great super power to have.

Leaping tall buildings in a single bound is out, so is hand-to-hand combat – Batman I am not. I’d have to be Gadget Girl with gismos; point and shoot. Oh wouldn’t it be amazing? Busily sneaking around zapping baddies – zzzttt, zzzttt. Just like that.

Of course I’d have to develop my psychic abilities further; become like the oracles in that Tom Cruise film, Minority Report but I’d be working on my own, zapping the bad guys and setting victims free. You think I’m like Superman, don’t you? That I won’t kill, that I’ll set my zapper to stun. Well, you’re wrong; I’ll terminate every one of them who intends to kill – I’d go to war.

I’d freeze robbers and immobilise them till the police arrived then I’d make them confess to all their crimes…which brings me to politicians; I’d zap them with my Truth ray and bring down the government, which would increase crime – I’d be a terrible super hero and I’d never save the world because it can’t be saved.

I think the real heroes are the people doing the jobs that are despised by the wider community like police and tax officers, refuse collectors and yes, even social workers. I don’t think newspaper and magazine people could ever be super heroes or footballers but mothers are from the moment they conceive that new possibility for the world.

Are we waiting for a Messiah, a super hero to save us from ourselves? Will he or she come out of the darkness wearing the white coat of science or the uniform of a homicidal dictator? I pick the scientist. That’s where I’d get my gadgets – maybe I am the super hero after all.

TALKING ABOUT DREAMS

2009-04-11T11:49:00.000+01:00

- How was your week?
- Full of wild dreams.
- Like what?
- The other night there was a man in a pram.
- A man in a pram?
- Not a big one; I think it was a doll’s pram.
- So maybe that’s about you wanting control.
- He wasn’t my man in a pram; he was just there, talking. He was looking for a cake recipe that had fish in it.
- Definitely weird.
- Maybe I need to buy fish cakes!
- Were you pushing him?
- No.
- So how did he get there?
- He must’ve wheeled himself.
- Was he in a nappy?
- No, just a short man, filling a pram; wearing clothes and a beard.
- How do you work that one out?
- That a man would rather dominate a doll’s pram than use a wheelchair.

A RING OF CONFIDENCE

2009-04-10T13:23:00.000+01:00

I’ve taken the cat’s attention and she’s stunned; one of my long hairs had curled itself on her hip. I am a loose woman and my hairbrush is like a road-sweeper. Old is catching up; I’m slowing down, almost a snail, an underwater creature. But, I am entirely happy – my dreams are returning and staying.

Someone said something on a debate show the other morning about people being miserable; all the phone-in chat was about how bad the world is and how they couldn’t get over the depressing negativity that it could never have a good ending. I immediately noticed that the difference between them and me was that I am not up on current affairs; I don’t read newspapers or watch TV news or the soaps which might mirror national and world events. So that’s the answer to my happiness!

I only watch certain dramas on the box, hate all reality programmes and avoid celebrity anything – especially in magazines. I read novels, poetry, biography, blogs; everything is removed – life in third draft, or more. Maybe I’m living an internal life that is so removed from the outside world that I can only be in the default position, which naturally is happiness. Are hermits happy? Probably.

Of course, I am surrounded by family who live in this big bad world, and am affected when anything happens to them; there’s nothing I can do about that and I don’t dwell on the what if? Things fall out of the sky – they will be borne if they land on me, I won’t worry about things that might not happen.

Meanwhile, a family gathering tomorrow beckons so I’ll expect good weather; we’ve had a couple of dodgy days so I can be quietly confident.

BAD BEHAVIOUR

2009-04-08T16:05:00.001+01:00

The mugs were lined up on the kitchen counter, two-by-two, heading into Easter with a bag of giant chocolate buttons inside eight of them. 175grms; each gift would have cost me £1.50, including the mugs, and the kids would have more chocolate than in an Easter egg that cost an arm and a leg…though with the credit crunch the prices are going down.

Whatever made me think I could buy Easter presents in February? Yes, I ate them all! March was a very bad month for me, and all that chocolate sat on my counters, smiling at me, waiting to see how long I would hold out. Now I’m faced with the sight of all those empty shining white insides gaping at me, accusing and laughing; I can’t get them at that price again. So, I bought bags of jelly babies and fruit pastels; I don’t like them…well not much. But they don’t look so good inside a Yorkie mug.

I bought six Lindt chocolate bunnies on Friday, fell off the wagon and began eating them on Saturday night – three down, three to go. Bingo talked me into going to Asda today so she could buy her Easter eggs. I bought six and gave her five – they’re out of my hands, thank God. I only have to keep my hands off PowerRanger’s two – let’s hope Amazon is in tomorrow; they’re not safe with me.

REVIEW

2009-04-06T23:24:00.002+01:00

Larry’s Party by Carol Shields is the tenth book I’ve read this year already. I loved the beginning, was bored in the middle and felt irritated by the end. At first the format inspired me to make notes for a future project. She tells the story of this guy’s life in sections two years apart and the writing is just wonderful but I don’t think the whole thing is as good as some of its parts.

The only character who is never more than a sketch is the son; I gave her the benefit of the doubt in that the musing is from a man; I thought she might be Showing quite literally how a man thinks about his life – rather than Telling, to make her point. If that is indeed what she was doing then she’s been successful – that was the most noticeable thing for me. Larry’s son barely had a mention and Larry didn’t know how to talk to him…which brings me to my point – I recognise that because my ex can’t talk to his kids.

What the hell is wrong with these men? Their kids are human; more human than a guy in the pub – so why are they terrified?

‘Aye, so ah jist thought I’d phone ye. So, yer awright then? Aye, so, howz things?’

See what I mean. My daughter can get a slightly better conversation out of her father than my son. I’ve heard that man talk to strangers about nothing and sound more intelligent than he does in the company of my children; they seem to strike him dumb and stupid.

I can’t believe that Carol Shields would write a book and not realise that one of the principle characters in the protagonist’s life was as two-dimensional as a passport photo behind glass – she won the Pulitzer Prize! So I’ll have to bow to her brilliance and congratulate her on a very clever piece of work.

A VIEW OF GLASGOW

2009-04-06T20:55:00.000+01:00

INTRODUCTION

2009-04-06T20:22:00.001+01:00

I’ve been Runaway Granny for three years; since May 2006 online, but I actually did the running in August 2003. I came across a huge clip-file, full of print-outs from the first year of the blog, all the travel journals plus little excursions into AOL and MSN. As I went through it I realised that that episode in my life is over. Epiphany - I am no longer a runaway granny! Therefore, there must be a new blog.

Here I am – the opposite of a runaway; I am present, landed and settled – a different being altogether. So now I have to introduce everyone again; family and friends have blog names – only the dead are real.

No. 1 Son is …TocToc
No. 2 Son is … Musician
Only daughter is…. Amazon
Daughter-in-law is…. Bingo
No. 1 Grandson is … Cadet
No. 2 Grandson is ….. BlackBob
No. 3 Grandson is … Comedian
No. 4 Grandson is… ToughGuy
No. 5 Grandson is….PowerRanger
Only Grandaughter is….Grubby Angel

Friends: Carrie & IrnBru – Morag & Hamish – ZaZa & Slim – Tilly & Shirley – Herman – Lulu – Bree

Workmates: Angel – Oracle – Westie