An Award - Oh My!!!! And Lunch! And presents! What a fab day! And a bit on meditation too.

I have had such a lovely day!

First of all, I drove up to Uni and collected my friend (fellow Creative Writing Lecturer) and we went for lunch. We sat by a real log fire, and I even managed to get a coffee down me, and enjoy it (chemo does funny things to your taste buds!).

And look at what she bought for me - as well as lunch! Thank you! I love them!

What shall I name them?!

We talked about writing for ages - it was sooo nice to do that! And I felt all inspired, and came home and did some actual real proper work! *big grins but won't be smug till it is finished* Rather worryingly, I saw one of my teaching students from Children's Lit, and she had this look on her face, the kind of look people reserve for the terminally ill. I said, "I'm not dying!" and she said, "Aren't you?! Oh thank God!" So I've no idea how she got that idea. It's the word cancer I suppose. Scares the bejesus out of us all! I've decided I am definitely NOT going to let this get me, and refuse to listen to anything to the contrary!

As well as writing, I've been archiving my blog (paranoid incase it should disappear into the ether one day). The experiment has certainly worked, and I have written a lot more than I realised, but on the other hand, I don't half talk some rubbish, eh! Most red-faced making of all, is the realisation that the novel is still only half done, and most poignant of all are the early July posts about having chest pains. Oh dear.

But it isn't all bad, and now I'm off sick and have an idea of how the chemo is going to affect me, I can plan writing around it, and at last get my novel written. Then I can hassle you all to read it - ha ha ha!
__________________________________________________________________

Along with the Spinach and the Broccoli, I've also been doing some meditation, and this is what has helped me to gain a calm (er) state of mind over my health. No idea if I'm doing it 'properly' or not, but I've made a little quiet place to sit. I think it's a really useful thing to do if you're feeling stressed over anything at all, as it gives your mind a little break from all its usual faffing about like a headless chicken. As long as you don't get stressed about the actual 'doing it' bit - because then you end up more stressed!

If you want a go, just try sitting down and counting your breaths. In and out. And when you get a thought (which you will if you are still breathing!) just try to ignore it and count your breaths again. I've been chanting in my head, "hour by hour, day by day, I'm healthier and stronger in every way" but that's because I'm a tad poorly, and one of my healing books says to do that. You can say whatever you like, if it helps! Or just breathe.

Buddha and Friends - a reminder of the strength of our minds

___________________________________________________________________

And my award - from JJ. Thank you! Am all chuffed to bits now!

Hello!

Sun, Moon, and Talia (1638)
Taken from Nogginworks

Haven't posted much this week. Had I have posted it would have gone something like this...

Knackered. Been planning and teaching and taking Ibuprofen for my costachondritis which still hurts loads.

Although I did have a riding lesson on Monday which was - as ever - great. I rode a horse called Pete who makes me feel like I'm learning to ride all over again because he's so big and has huge movement, so that trying to sit to his trot feels like trying to sit on a pneumatic drill... or something. Hmmm. Also, when he spooks, instead of cat leaping to the side - up and away - he does this kind of cowering thing, so that all of a sudden, you find your arse 6 inches above the saddle. I thought he was falling over because I couldn't see his legs. Strange wee boy!

Today I've been teaching the teachers (which is really quite enjoyable I must say), and we've been looking at Fairy Tales - the history of them, how they've developed and morphed and all that. I find it fascinating that fairy tales were quite gory and sexually explicit, and took great pleasure in reading them Giambattista Basiles's Sun, Moon, and Talia from his collection Il Pentamerone which you can read at Sur la Lune. It's the original 'Sleeping Beauty' (if indeed 'the original' anything exists!). The King has a daughter, and the soothsayers give the bad news about the spinning wheel, and of course she grows up and pricks her finger, and dies... but from there, it all gets a bit, erm, well, heavy. The daughter is laid out in a castle (okay), and the handsome prince comes riding by... except he's a King AND he's married! And she is unconscious. And he climbs through the window and... in the words of Giambattista, "...the King saw her, he
called to her, thinking that she was asleep, but in vain, for she still slept on, however loud he called. So, after admiring her beauty awhile, the King returned home to his kingdom, where for a long time he forgot all that had happened."

But I remembered a version far more explicit. I thought these students are going to think I'm a right pervert here because I've told them that he saw her, fancied a bit of that, and helped himself. I read on...

"Meanwhile, two little twins, one a boy and the other a girl, who looked like two little jewels, wandered, from I know not where, into the palace and found Talia in a trance. At first they were afraid because they tried in vain to awaken her; but, becoming bolder, the girl gently took Talia's finger into her mouth, to bite it and wake her up by this means; and so it happened that the splinter of flax came out. Thereupon she seemed to awake as from a deep sleep; and when she saw those little jewels at her side, she took them to her heart, and loved them more than her life; but she wondered greatly at seeing herself quite alone in the palace with two children, and food and refreshment brought her by unseen hands." (sur la lune)

I thought, that is soooo not what happened! "Wandered in from I know not where"?!!! So I did a quick search online and I found it... the unsanitised version. The whole thing is here but basically... the bit we're interested in reads:

The King has found poor Talia and "He called to her, but she would not wake. As he looked at her, and tried to wake her, she seemed so incredibly lovely to him that he could not help desiring her, and he began to grow hot with lust. He gathered her in his arms and carried her to a bed, where he made love to her. Leaving her on the bed, he left the palace and returned to his own city, where pressing business for a long time made him think no more about the incident."

Aha! The beast! Wonder what Disney would make of this? It continues:

"But Talia, who was not dead, but merely unconscious, had become pregnant, and after nine months she gave birth to twins, as beautiful a boy and girl as ever were born. Kindly fairies attended the birth, and put the babies to suck at their mother’s breast. One day, one of the infants, not being able to find the nipple, began to suck at his mother’s finger. He sucked with such force that he drew out the splinter of flax, and Talia awoke, just as if from a long sleep. When she saw the babies, she did not know what had happened or how they had come to her, but she embraced them with love, and nursed them until they were satisfied. She named the infants Sun and Moon. The kindly fairies continued to attend her, providing her with food and drink, which appeared as if delivered by unseen servants."

Bit of a change from, "And the prince kissed her and she woke up, and they lived happily ever after" isn't it?!!! It gets even worse when the King's wife finds out about his affair with the unconscious woman in the woods, mother of his children, but you can follow the links to read it if you want to!

So. Fairy Tales. Gore. Sex. Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber doesn't seem half as shocking now does it?! Although her take on Red Riding Hood, when the wolf and Red get jiggy with it, might still turn a hair or two!

So that's me. Fairy tales. And after that Little Women and Anne of Green Gables at such a cracking pace it's making my head spin. God knows how the students are coping!

And er... my novel. yes, well. The old PhD. Los estudios mios. It cries to me in the night, my poor novel. It speaks to me in my dreams, (in Spanish cos it's dead clever like that), and it says, "Please write me. I need to be written!" Escribeme, por favor. Necesito ser escrito! Before I forget all that needs to be said, before I lose all these wonderful ideas... and er... have to go back on another research trip.

Oh! Now there's an idea!

Running on empty - already!

It's all go! Back at work this week, and it's only Thursday and I'm already running on empty.

BUT

So far, so good - nice students, nice rooms to teach in, and with my new found "I refuse to get stressed about anything" attitude, everyone at home is happy too!

Bet you're wondering what happened to the health kick... well... erm... apart from swimming and riding in Spain, I've done bugger all I'm afraid. This costachondritis thing has put a stop to it all. Thwarted at the outset! And on a diet of Ibuprofen and anti-nausea tablets. Lovely.

And now I'm teaching again, I'll be lucky to have a riding lesson! I have this awful feeling I'm going to be reduced to the academic equivalent of a couch potato once more, with squared pc eyes and a bottom molded to the shape of my office chair. Is that molded or moulded? Hmmm.

Right then. Off I go to sort out tomorrow's lesson. It's half six and all I've eaten is a nectarine. At least it'll be good for that stone I wanted to lose!

Forty lengths - new record!

I swam 40 lengths today.

My previous record was 16. That's 6 without stopping, and then little breaks up to 16. But today I was on a roll.

I swam 20 without stopping, and then had a 2 minute rest, and then swam another 10! Then I had a 15 minute pit stop in the Jacuzzi, and then did another 10 - totalling 40!

How brilliant am I?!

Fat maybe - but also much fitter than I had previously thought. All that riding you see... it's working!

Also this week, have phoned Spain to arrange rental on an apartment. Which was interesting given that I haven't had anyone to speak Spanish to in er... years. I did quite well only floundered at the bank details bit, although in my defense, I can't follow all of that stuff in English either. I await an email with eager anticipation... It also gave me a bit of practice so that when I called my friend, he didn't have to use his English at all, and neither did I. Hurrah.

P.S.

Still grieving at the loss, er, the not winning, of the funding. Don't think I've forgotten about it just yet! :-(

Summer, SplashWorld, Sick sick sick

It's going to be a fantastic summer - I can feel it in my bones. Every last one of them, but especially those in my lower back, and rib cage.

So. Last week it was the Fastrack Graduation on the Friday, and the Conference on the Saturday. Both went well, but what I didn't tell you was that on the Friday night I had some interesting chest pains. A vice like grip around my rib cage forced me to the floor in a cold sweat and as I ripped off my frock and bra, gasping for air, all I could think of was the bloody conference paper and how I would be delivering it, heart attack or not. I sat at the bottom of the stairs panting and refusing to let my husband call an ambulance because the pain was subsiding, and heart attacks don't subside. Do they?

Of course it wasn't a heart attack (or a panic attack which was hubby's idea de jour), but some bloody virus that has all the symptoms of a heart attack without the death bit - pain down left arm, tightening chest, more pain, shallow breathing. The works really. The doctor, on Monday morning - yes I know I waited until Monday morning, but I only went because my mother frog marched me there. I wasn't going to go at all. If I'm going to die at 37 I'd rather just get on with it rather than have some doctor issue me with 6 weeks to live - so the doctor did all his bits and bobs and announced I've got Tietze's Disease. Christ, I thought. Six weeks to live! Shit. But it turns out it isn't life threatening and isn't half as bad as it sounds. Plus you can say, "It's really getting on my tit," and mean it. *Phew. For the interested among you, 30% of people who turn up in Casualty with a heart attack have this (aka costachondritis OR inflammation of the cartilage around the ribs and sternum). Nice.

So Tuesday it was Gymnatics Fun Day. Basically that meant from 9am till 3.30pm in the gym with loads of excited kids flinging themselves around on various bit of apparatus, and me stood there clutching my left breast in agony, looking a bit pervy I'm sure! And my lower back which is feeling a bit tight at the moment. Christ. I went home and let everyone down. Again. So much for a guilt free summer.

Wednesday was better. I took the kids to Splashworld. We went in a party of 15 people so didn't have to queue. We got *sneaked* around the back so that people wouldn't get upset. Hmm. It was good fun though. We went on a rubber ring water slide first. The seven year old could be heard shrieking all the way down behind me as I hurtled along the bright yellow piping on white foaming water. Ahead of her. Powerless. I watched someone else's kid catapult out of their rubber ring in the distance and my heart (aching and all) sank. I managed to get trapped in a slow bit and waited for her to catch up. The tube spat her out, crimson faced, teeth glaring. Good times! The tube slides were great fun despite the 15-20 min wait, but after no time at all, some git announced that all the orange bands had to leave. Two hours? Is that all you get?!

Today I've been tidying little one's room. Hell! Do you have a small child - well the 6-8 bracket? Do yours have a tidy room? Do they store bits of old food behind bookshelves and singleton socks in with the colouring pens? Do they put clothes away by burying them in the cuddly toy pile?! Good lord. I even enlisted Chilli's help but we were forced to retreat to the safety of the kitchen to drink copious amounts of tea.

I've done most of it and been to the tip twice. Only the 'art stuff' remains (as in pens, paper, stickers etc., all over the floor) so am typing this to the dulcet tones of OI YOU! and Tell her MUM!!! as the teenager attempts to help the little one finish the job off.

One wonders what joys await us tomorrow as we watch the rain falling on the trampoline. Not so much global warming as a British Monsoon Season, eh!

things to do when not writing a novel

Hmm. A sprawly post today methinks. Of things to do when not writing - which of course I should be doing. And not this kind of writing obviously. Not blogging. Novelling.

• Look up old friends on Myspace and failing that Google them.

Hmm. It is most disturbing to look up old friends for an email address only to find that they are now a tad famous and so will either not remember you, will remember you but won't be that bothered, or will blatantly deny all knowledge of ever having cracked eyes on you. I'll find out which iffing they ever email me back. Of course Eddie Izzard never has but then he is like, proper famous, so I'll let him off.

• Email people you sort of know/have met recently with all the squalid little details of your life when all they asked was a little questions like, "So you play an instrument then?"

I like doing this. I know it's very naughty but just can't help myself. I'm getting better though. I edit it. No really, I do. And I was going to say I start from much later on in my life story, but thinking about it, that's a lie because I went from early childhood. Oops.

• Read blogs.

Well we all do this, don't we.

• Mark essays, and give feedback on class work.

Yesterday we had a debate about the smoking ban. It was a proper debate so we called it a Moot. I like that word. Moot. It feels nice in your mouth. Anyway, half the class was in support of the ban and the other half was against the ban.

To be honest the against the ban people didn't really have a leg to stand on because a) you can still smoke outside, and b) most smokers want to stop anyway don't they? I have now gone 8 weeks and 3 days without a cigarette and am pleased about the ban because it's helping me to stay off the ole fags. Selfish but true.

• Watch the rain.

It is still pissing down. How is that so? Where the hell did summer go? Humph!

• Drink tea and phone people.

Have done 2 hours of phone calls so far and it's only 10.42. AM. Is that good or what. Especially as have also sent 6 emails (some rather long ones - see above) and made 5 cups of tea. Have also checked MySpace, Facebook, Yahoo Mail, Hotmail, regular mail, and Work mail. I am a multi-tasking communications Queen!!

Have a lovely procrastinating, wet, peculiar and happy day!

Oh and write that novel! *Grins furiously like a wild woman on Absinthe swinging upside down from an oak tree bedecked in spring flowers*

4th July and all that Glasgae stuff

Isn't this a special date for some reason?! I think it must be super special because it even has its own website. Imagine that. A date with its own website!

I can't believe it's Wednesday already. Cripes! Where'd all those days get to?

Some funny stuff was sent to me in an email about the terrorist attacks in Glasgow - not that the attacks were funny... but just that a comparison between US reactions and Glasgae reactions are very funny!


So here ye are...

If Saturday's incident had happened in a US airport, compared to Glasgow Airport

Eyewitness accounts.

America: "Oh my God! There was a man on fire, he was running about, I just ran for my life...I thought I was going to die, he got so close to me"

Glasgow: "C*nt wis running aboot on fire, so a ran up n gave him a good boot, then decked him"

America: "I just want to get home, away from here...I just want to get home, I thought I was going to die"

Glasgow: "Am no leaving here till am oan a f*ckin' plane!"

America: "there was pandemonium, people were running in all directions, we didn't know what was happening ; I thought I was going to die"

Glasgow: "F*ck this, moan we'll get a pint in"

America: "We thought he was gonna blow us all up he had a gas canister, and was trying to get into his trunk, I thought we were going to die, I just ran for my life"

Glasgow: " A walked by the motor that wis on fire, and the dafty couldnae even open his boot, he wis in fire annaw so a ran up n gave him a good boot to the baws"

America: "I'm too traumatised even to speak, I thought I was going to die"

Glasgow: "here mate, gees 2 minutes till a phone ma auld dear, if am gonna be oan the telly a want her tae tape it"

And finally, two REAL quotes from an eye-witness - John Smeaton

John has just surpassed his interview on the National ITV news. ITV Interviewer asked: "What message do you have for the bombers"

John replied: ... "This is Glasgow we'll set aboot yae"

John was interviewed yesterday on CNN. CNN Interviewer asked: "How did you manage to restrain the terrorist?"

John replied: ... "Me and the other folk were just tryin to get the boot in and some other guy banjoed him"!

Mr Smeaton - Local Hero!

Many thanks for the perpetrator of that particular email!!!

I think I've fallen in love with Glasgow!

UPDATE:

Apparently I'm a C-list Blogger!

Happy Days

Yesterday I had an impromptu meeting with my poor PhD supervisor. She is wonderful. She sits and listens to me while I snivel on and on about how hard it all is, and then nods in appreciation. "It is, it is," she says. She passes me hankies at appropriate moments, and doesn't try to fix anything. She just listens, and sometimes, all you need is a good listen. I told her the Joyce story. She liked that. I tried not to swear too much - I'm going to have to start telling people I've got Tourette's!

Today I wrote 500 words, and didn't give myself a hard time over them either. I wanted to write more, but it wouldn't come, but you know what... it's okay.

I went to aqua aerobics too, and then took miss 7 year old swimming - and she learned to swim! Hurrah! It wasn't me who helped of course, but my friend's kids, but hell, what joy!

And when I got home, I have an invite from Caroline to her launch for In Search of Adam, and it's in the evening, so I can actually make it! How fab is that!

And all the marking is done. And I feel... so relieved... and free...

All in all, happy days!

Lunch with the Girls/Aging Beautifully

Nicked from the Oprah Winfrey Show
left to right: Norah Ephron (65), Diahann Carroll (71), Geena Davis (50)

More on those lovely ladies in a moment, but firstly, I just want to say that instead of sitting indoors marking all those glorious essays yesterday, I went to have lunch with the girls. We met up at work because a) it's the easiest place for us all to get to, and b) we all had marking to collect, and c) town centre parking is a nightmare. Still, the SCR is most pleasant and the coffee is passable, although what was up with the white rolls is anyone's guess!

We spent a little time moaning - as you do - and a lot of time considering the merits of the PhD. Three out of the four of us are doing PhDs, with the fourth shortly to join us on the rollercoaster (after all, why should she get away with it!). I'm only doing it because of all the wonderful and gifted women who've been there and done that before me, like Amanda (in Oxford you brain box), and Anna (who I used to work with - another brain box): Women who set the standard so high, and then said to me, "You can do this, so do it!"

Of course it simply isn't fair that I should have had to meet these bloody women, because I could have settled into a life of childcare and felt that to be sufficient. I could have been a wife, and mother, and worked part time in the corner shop, read Take-a-Break and Heat magazine without pining for something more challenging. I can't complain that I have kids and a hubby, a house to run, a kitchen to stock, and bed linen to change because so do they. I can't complain that I have to teach and mark assignments either, because, yup, they do too. I can't even moan that my supervisor wants me to deliver some bloody conference paper because guess what, these women are already doing it!!! I'm on catch up here, dragging my heels in a bid to maintain academic obscurity and yet knowing that just as these brilliant women have done before me, I'm going to have to stick my head above the pulpit at some point. So to those marvellous examples of what can be done,and what I should be doing also, I salute you!

Now - Oprah and Aging. Can you believe those women are that old?! OMG as my daughter would say. Diahann Carroll - 71?!!! It's criminal, even if she does say she's had lots of surgery. So what was their advice about aging? What have we to look forward to?

1. Anything you hate about your body in your 20s you will long for in your 40s. Yup.
2. If you don't use it you lose it - brain, muscle, sex-life. Good news is that you can, with the right stimulus, get it back - brain, muscle and sex-life. (Brains: MIne are knackered from all this education I've been giving them. Muscles: Two years ago I could do the splits. Last week I discovered I can't anymore. I could also do a handstand a few years ago, but last week, when I tried to show a load of kids in gymnastics class, my arms very nearly snapped in shock and protestation! Thankfully I can still do cartwheels although something went ping in my shoulder the other day. My stomach used to be like a washboard but now it is like the washing. Sex-life is fine thank you and not something I'm prepared to discuss on a blog, at least not until I'm in my 90s and am wearing purple.)
3. For your 62nd birthday you will get a moustache. (Can't wait)
4. The neck never lies.
5. Hair dye is what helps us make 40 the new 30, and 50 the new 40. (I've already discovered this one!)
6. The menopause: hot flushes and vaginal dryness. (Again. Can't wait. And they discussed this on daytime telly!!! Ew!)

On the plus side - well, I have to say the ladies were not as vocal here. More confidence was cited as a benefit, and not caring what people think as much, was another. Diahann said she had more patience, but I feel I've got far less. Is there a patience dip in your late 30s I wonder?!

For all you wonderful ladies out there, we do what we can, eh. Watch that Gok bloke on Channel 4 (How to Look Good Naked), drink lots of water, go for lunch with the Girls, and don't do a PhD!!!

Hourly Paid - So you wanna be a lecturer do you?

If there is anyone out there who wants to be a lecturer, might I suggest you have a read through the responses to Pity the students. But pity the lecturers more. It's an old post but still as current as ever. If you are seeking a profession that makes you feel valued, appreciated, and fiscally rewarded - forget it!

There are 2 posts advertised at my institution, and yet I am not qualified to apply for either of them because I haven't been publishing academically and am still in the process of gaining my PhD. Never mind the fact that I've been lecturing for 3 years now, and have been writing and leading modules from day one. Or that I have a PGCE, am a Fellow of the Higher Education Academy, and am 2 years into my PhD.

I have been studying at university level for 8 years. I could have been a doctor by now - or a vet - earning a living. Yes - long hours, but long hours that are paid for, not to mention that feel worthwhile. Instead, I am still an hourly paid lecturer and likely to remain so, earning around £6,000 a year. Okay - so I have the summer off (except I don't really, because I have to teach summer schools to make my income up to that princely sum of six grand). I only teach a few hours a week... fine, but what about the hours I spend at home researching, improving my lessons, re-writing lectures? And there isn't any thanks either. The students leave at the end of the year with a small wave if you are lucky. When I left primary education after teacher training, I couldn't get out the door for hugs and little gifts. I'm not expecting hugs off my students in HE, or even gifts, but hey, would a card be too much to ask for?!

Hourly paid lecturers often teach a new course each year, having to teach it from scratch, write lectures, devise seminar activities etc., only to have it scrapped the following year or given to a full time member of staff. When I complain to my mentor I am told it is like an apprenticeship, that this is how it is. What other profession makes you work an apprenticeship after you've qualified? Makes you feel that you haven't qualified when you have? Keeps you from professional development and increase in pay each year? We are supposed to be given fractional posts now, but oh my goodness, would you believe that while I worked enough hours to qualify in years one and two, I haven't in my third year! Bloody great.

We don't find out what we're teaching until September either. So that's all summer hanging around to see if you've got any hours, and when they'll be so you can arrange child care. Then there's the feeling that you can't cope as you work every evening and all weekend, every weekend, just to stay on top, to get the marking done, the reading... whilst husband and children complain they never see you and the house degrades around your empty fridge.

I don't know where am I going anymore. All I have is a love of literature, language and writing, and the desire to share that passion with others, passing on what I know whenever I can, and hopefully inspiring people. It isn't enough obviously. I'm not going to be publishing loads of academic papers in the near future, not if I'm ever going to get this novel written. I don't want to present papers at conferences either. I just want to earn a living and be appreciated. I think I'm in the wrong profession.

Scary Clowns and the Stuff of Urban Myth

Just had to share this with you! Last week my daughter's friend was babysitting for her baby brother and couldn't get the baby to sleep. She rang her mum, who said take all the stuffed toys out of the room. The daughter said she had done, except for the big clown in the corner of the room - to which her mother replied, we haven't got a big clown! Take the baby and get out of the house, and go next door.

It turns out that the clown was a man, who had dressed himself up as a clown and parked himself in the corner of the baby's room, pretending to be a toy! Mum rang the police and the clown was arrested.

Unbelievable but true. Apparently. And a bit scary! Close those windows.

Home Again :(

The Lachat

Well, I'm back in Blighty again, after ten glorious days of sunshine and snow in the French Alps. It is difficult to get back into the swing of things, but then you probably already know that! It was lovely to spend time away from the computer - I was forbidden to log on in the local tourist office - and be outside all day...


Arrrrrgh! J'ai peur! You want me to go down that?!

On the first day, the eldest boarded off into the distance at the rate of a small avalanche, following hubby who looked equally cool dressed in sleek black and trendy sunglasses. I weaved my way down at a more leisurely pace looking most elegant with backside stuck out, poles gripped for dear life, and snow plough even on the green runs! But by the end of the week, I finally cracked the skiing thing, hurtling down the slope with parallel turns, no poles, and not a hint of a snow plough anywhere! The little one earned her Premier Etoile (first star) in ski-school, so we were both feeling most proud of ourselves! We even went over a jump or two (very small ones!).


Ski School

Mid-week we went out and met the locals, drank far too much Genepi and regretted it the next morning - as you do.


Oh Yay! These things are the best!
On the last day I went riding and learned how to say "walk on" (marche), "trot" (trot), and "canter" (petit de galop). We went cantering through a snowy forest, crossed small rushing rivers, and crossed bridges I wouldn't have crossed on foot! Fantastic. Oh to play! I needed so much to play!


Simply Gorgeous
I have much more to say - about language and culture, being in a different environment, but do you know what? The sun is shining and I want to sort my garden out before the demands of study and academia chain me to my desk again. So I'll write about all that stuff later!


Chaine D'Aravis
Hope everyone else had a cracking Easter (gettit?!) - What did you get up to, and more importantly, have you been writing?! I certainly have not done a tap and proud of it... back to the grindstone on Monday eh!

Midlife Crisis!

Do you ever wake up and think, 'I'm in someone else's life!' I mean I look around and they're my kids, and he's my husband, and that's all fine. It's the place and the circumstances I don't get. Ten years in one place. It's the longest I've been anywhere, ever. I grew up on the move, and carried on into adult life. I'm used to being surrounded by different cultures, different languages. The novel is making me quite reflective (it's about identity in people who are culturally hybrid and nomadic). I've even got back in touch with people from 10 years ago, researching Spain, remembering. Always remembering. (You see - writing is bad for you!!!)

And suddenly I find myself living the life of an English person without feeling very English. Too weird. I've been at the University in one capacity or another for 8 years. It still amazes me - the nomadic hippy chick has somehow turned into a statically located academic, not to mention eternal student. When exactly, did I decide to 'settle' in the UK and speak English everyday? When did grow up? I must have taken my eye off the ball for too long. And it's making me feel old. Really old!

So I went and had my hair cut - that is what you do isn't it when your daughter tells you that you look 45 and not 37!? I've had my hair done a total of 4 times in my life. I had a perm in 1986 which was a very bad idea, a disastrous bob in 1989, and a lovely cut in 2002 that looked great until I washed it and got tangled up in those new fangled straightener things. So basically, hair is as it comes, long, and tied back... But then to my absolute horror I found some grey hairs last week, and added to the general dismay of 'fast approaching 40' I summoned up all my courage and got my hair cut. And highlighted. I mean it's not plastic surgery, granted, and it won't help fight off gravity, but it's done something! I can't pass a mirror without going, "Eek!" to myself (in a kind of, who is that?! way). But Hubby likes it. Eldest daughter loves it. Youngest can't stop laughing because mummy's gone blond. It is very blond. But I do look a bit younger... I hope!

It's been an exciting week - what with waking up in the wrong life and new hair. I have a well needed break coming up though, and have been frantically marking essays in a bid to clear my in-tray before the family forcibly removes my pens and paper. (But I shall smuggle a pad and pen in my ski socks HA!) I'm looking forward to having my brain working in French again (well trying to)... to different smells and sounds, to hurtling down a slope, out of control and terrified, and feeling alive just to have survived this far. I wonder, when the novel is finished, the PhD completed, and the kids a little older, whose life I'll wake up in? If fate is out there taking requests, I'd like France or Spain please, and erm... land would be good, with stables and stuff... and erm, money would be useful. Just enough for the occasional haircut!

p.s.

On a totally unconnected note - Success on the Serpentine! Hurrah! Managed to get Touchee round it in both directions, in a fast working trot, so most pleased. Also did first ever smooth transition from trot to canter - there's hope for me yet!

Tax tax tax

I'm just listening to Radio 4 at the minute - big discussion on the budget and the tax thing. Ah, yes - the tax thing. As someone who earns a pittance as an hourly paid lecturer I'm just rolling over in glee at the fact that I'm going to LOSE out, but if I were earning, say, £30K, I'd be much, much better off. Fan-bloody-tastic! And yes, I know it's all very complex, and some will gain, and some will lose, but no matter how you look at it, it's back to the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer.

And there were such high hopes for Labour. What have we got now? Nurses are going to work in Australia because conditions are better, prospects are better, and the life-style is better. The NHS is on its arse. Small businesses are disappearing faster than you can say Budget. By the time our kids get through the education system, they have 25 billion A* but still don't know what a verb is, can't punctuate to save their lives, and get out done in mental maths by pensioners with Alzheimer's.

So brilliant, Labour. Well done. Hope you're pleased with yourselves.

Of course all this does is strengthen my resolve to emigrate again!

Grice's Maxims

Grice’s Conversational Maxims

H. P. Grice probably knew someone like me. Who knows, he may have even married them, because he was inspired to come up with Conversational Maxims – or Rules of Conversation. Four of them. With sub-clauses. These aren’t really rules, more observations on how people (normal people, that is) co-operate in conversation.

Take last night for example, when I collected my youngest from a party. When the mother said, “How are you?” the expected response was, “I’m fine thanks,” and not, “Oh, since you ask, I’m shattered because I’ve been working so hard. There just aren’t enough hours in the day. I feel like crap, and look even worse! I’m working on my PhD, marking stacks of essays, coaching gymnastics, etc., etc., etc.” As the poor woman backed away into the corner, I realised I had broken the Maxim of Quantity, which states, “Do not make your contribution to the conversation more informative than necessary.”

Then her husband made the dreadful mistake of asking me, “How is it going?” The correct response to this question is, “Fine thanks,” because really, in hindsight, he wasn’t asking me about the PhD that is so prevalent in my thoughts at the moment. But, oh no! Off launched I into the finer points of fragmented identities and cultural hybridity, the complexities of the composite novel and the emergent tradition of the American Short Story Cycle…” thus breaking the Maxim of Relevance which states, “Say things related to the current topic of the conversation.” I also broke the rules of Manner in being totally obscure, ambiguous, and disorderly. I blame lack of sleep for the last two. The poor man just stared at me, nodding politely, before he found a random child to assist with birthday cake.

You’d think I’d just collect my child at this point, bow my head in shame, and leave, but Katy is still looking for her shoes, and so the wife is still making polite conversation. “So is Nigel okay then?” “Oh yeah,” I replied, “He’s fine.” I should have stopped there but found myself explaining that we had to put the rabbit to sleep this week, and Toucheé (the horse I ride on my lessons) was totally spooked last week so that was an experience, and, and, and…” Oh dear. Thankfully the child arrived with shoes in hand and saved me any further conversational faux pas (how do you make faux pas plural?!).

So you see, I am crap. Better not to ask, “How are you?” because I will actually tell you, being socially inept as I am. At least I can swear, hand on heart, that I never knowingly break the Maxims of Quality, so I will always tell the truth, and will never say things for which I lack sufficient evidence. Well, it’s something, I suppose!

Workspace Challenge (and Exhausted!)

Novel racer Nichola has set us a challenge to share our workspace, so here goes! I have taken over the front room with wall to wall cabinets overflowing with books and files, so I'm only showing you the neat looking bit in the corner where I sit! A friend brought me some daffs yesterday - you can see them on the window sill. They really cheered me up, especially as we had to take my little one's daftodils into school!



I have dozens of little bits and bobs around me, each one full of memories and ideas, from my totem pole, to my tiny little dragon a student gave me many years ago. They keep me sane!

The novel writing is going well. I've realised that the first 10,000 words are not going to be used in their current format, so the first page is no longer the first page. Argh. But all is not lost. At least I know where I'm going now - what I want to create, and it isn't a straight-forward narrative at all. I'm beginning to wonder what I've taken on, what a challenge I've set myself, but I am equally inspired and excited.

I promised my husband that I would get an early night and not sit up writing until 2 am every morning. I think I might just listen to him for once, because I am shattered! I don't know - I wanted it all - kids, husband, career, studies - and now I find I'm a one woman juggling act!

So, as the word count trickles along, I'm switching the pc off, and heading for bed. A pile of marking awaits me in the morning, planning and preparation for next week's teaching. I can hardly wait!

Daftodils!

We haven't had a lot of success in the past with bulbs in pots sent home from school. Yesterday, on our way into school, I noticed most of the children were carrying varying sizes of daffodils, and realised with horror that my little one's pot must still be in the garden somewhere. It'd had been out there, fending for itself, since last September, so you can imagine our joy (and my relief) when we discovered two tiny, but perfectly formed, daffodils had grown. All by themselves!

Once in the car, my little one said, "They're daftodils, because they haven't got a seat belt on!" And then she added, "Will you take a picture and put them on your blog thing?" So I have. And the pics not too bad for a mobile phone camera.

PDP Heaven or Hell?!

I have a meeting coming up with my PhD supervisor, so have spent the morning working on my PDP (Personal Development Portfolio). The PDP is designed to make you think about your progress, how knowledge and skills are developing and so on and so forth... for 27 pages! I realised with horror that I hadn't updated mine since March 2006.

For many a PDP is just more administrational clap-trap, more hoops to negotiate, but surprisingly I've found some of it quite useful. Having to update it has meant I've had to dig out all my old paperwork, and think about just how exactly, I have (if I have) developed in the following areas:

1. Personal and Generic Skills Audit {Aw... do I really have to fill this in?!}
2. Research Environment {Yup, I'm researching all right}
3. Research Management {I'm dead organised, me!}
4. Personal Effectiveness {It starts with Demonstrate a willingness and ability to learn and acquire knowledge One would hope so at PhD level!}
5. Communication Skills {I'd be a bit snookered as a teacher without these, eh}
6. Networking and Team Work {I wonder if our novel race counts?!}
7. Career Management {I think I'd like to look after horses one day, in France...}
8. Other Skills as identified by you or your supervisor {like there's anything left to add after 25 pages of questions!}

The useful part was the bit at the beginning that asks what you've been doing since you last filled it in, and I was surprised to find I've done rather a lot that I'd forgotten about. Yay!

As for the novel writing itself, I thought I hadn't done any work, and yet it's taken me 4 hours to sort through all the handwritten materials I've been gathering and consigning to a big box under my desk. I found tons of my original ideas and thoughts, not to mention reams of snippets of fiction, of characterisation, of key events, and research I've already done.

So I'm feeling rather smug (bearing in mind that life can, and often does, go tits-up at any given time). Last week I wrote 10,000 words, swam 20 lengths (that's a lot for me!), had a marvellous riding lesson, and managed to have everyone fed/clothes washed/house sorted/shopping done without too much screaming and shouting!

This more than makes up for the fact that the first 10,000 words of my novel are probably not going to be used now, at least not in their current form. And that my word count progress is probably going to be slowed to taking a new approach to the project as a whole. Argh!

a marriage versus a love affair

I've just watched Newsnight on BBC2, and some blathering idiot was going on about 'selling a deal to the motorist' (they were on about the congestion charge). Since when did we elect politicians to 'sell us deals'?! I thought they were supposed to come up with policies, not deals. Shows you just how politically inept I am!

Apart from that, I had a good day's writing. After spending over a year thinking about the story, it's taken me ages to begin writing anything longer than snippets. I only hope I can keep the momentum going until I reach my target! It's also very difficult to be in England and write a novel set in Spain, so to help me along I listened to Maktub, Camaron de la Isla, and Ketama, LOUDLY, as promised, and watched half an hour of TVEi. Que guay! It worked, and after today's efforts I have so far racked up a grand total of 10,000 words. Hurrah!

The whole novel writing thing is quite a learning curve, I have to say, and it's interesting to find my head taking a totally different approach to the one it takes when I write short stories (my usual medium). I remember Al Kennedy talking about this at a conference last year and thinking, whatever does she mean? But I'm starting to get it now. It really is a love affair versus a marriage. Short stories are all consuming. I constantly re-work each line of prose, reducing it in much the same way as you reduce mulled wine, so that what you're left with is rich, dense material that says far more than the weight of its word count. At least that's what I try to do. Novel writing on the other hand, is a game of not showing your cards too soon, of holding back. There's more scenes to work with and more characters to develop. It's a far larger canvas that stretches as far as the eye can see, and then some. It's going to take me bloody years, and there's a thesis to write as well! I'm okay. No really. The palpitations will calm down in a minute or two.

Also listened to Russel Brand's radio show on BBC Radio 2's listen again, which for some inane reason, I find hugely entertaining. And then the kids came home from school and we made chocolate brownies. Fab!

That's Enough Already - Hereuxville, Quebec

This is very interesting. You can read the original document, the 'Normes de vie' in English here. Or in French here.

What interests me is that nowhere in the document - and I read it twice in both languages - does it mention anyone in particular, and I do worry about the mentality of anyone who instantly assumes it is aimed at them! I mean what is wrong with clearly stating that it is not acceptable behaviour to "stone women to death in a public place" [le fait de tuer les femmes par lapidation sur la place publique] or circumcise them?! As for not allowing children to carry weapons "real or fake, symbolic or not" - well who but the very warped could argue with that, especially after incidents such as Columbine?! And what,exactly, is wrong with clearly stating that women have the same rights as men, or that "any form of violence towards children is not accepted"?

Maybe I'm completely mad, but I thought it was a lovely, polite little document, and that the only people who would take offense would be those who believe those that stoning women etc. is perfectly normal! What happened to that old saying - 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do' - something some people clearly don't want to adhere to!