Tuesday, 27 February 2007

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.

Monday, 26 February 2007

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!

Saturday, 24 February 2007

Spam in your Inbox?!

I keep getting Spam at work despite all the promise of filters. Today's top subject lines read as follows:

1. Thoroughly Review Upon Hoped (This isn't even English as we know it! What review? Hoped for what exactly?)
2. You have the experience but lack the University Degree (Er... no)
3. Var loc United (Excuse me?)
4. Your thoughts please (On what? Spammers?!)
5. Hot sex with Viagra Pills (But pills are so tiny - they'd get lost surely!)

Hotmail and Yahoo are doing well though, and I haven't had offers to enlarge my penis for absolutely ages!

Right. I'm off to work on my word count, just as soon as I finish some marking...

Friday, 23 February 2007

Friday again!

Friday seems to be coming around an awful lot faster these days! I'm shattered, having taught solidly for the last two days, field trips with my writing students, and still suffering from the unshiftable lurgy! I've been writing bits by hand, and have finished (I think) one of the later chapters which is in the form of a short story. A day late for Coffee Morning with the Novel Racers, and up to my eyes in marking (again), I'm trying to decide how best to use the weekend. I'm hoping hubby will take the kids out somewhere and leave me to make a dent in my work!

On the plus side, I swam 20 lengths this week, had a great riding lesson, and submitted the first 10,000 words of my novel to my PhD supervisor. I await her comments with trepidation, but at least I've finally given her something!

Liz Fenwick set us all a challenge - to post the first page of our novel in progress, so here goes nothing. Do your worst!

The First Page



My mother stood in the bedroom doorway, but I didn’t turn to look at her. I could hear her breathing, laboured and uneven, feel her eyes on the back of my neck. I knew one of us had to break the silence, but no words would come. Language was pointless and she knew it too.
        I folded the piece of paper up carefully, and placed it back in its manila envelope, but I couldn’t bring myself to put it down. I kept staring at the dressing table, the off-white affair from my nan. I traced the brocade around with my eye until I reached the part where the gold leafy pattern was chipped off in one corner. I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there, no idea how much longer I could go without moving. I knew that if she dared to speak, dared to say just one thing, it would all come flooding out, and I didn’t want it to. I just wasn’t ready.
        Then my mother broke the silence. “I—.” She heaved a sigh.
        I felt my skin crawl, as though a cold, wet thing, had just smothered itself over me. “Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice sounded suddenly harsh, like someone else’s.
        She said nothing, drew another long, uneven breath.
        “Who else knows?”
        Again she said nothing, but when I turned to look at her, I could see it in her eyes that I was the last to find out.
        Eventually she came and sat on the edge of the bed, her face turned away. She took a cigarette from the bedside table and I watched her light it with a shaking hand. Those hands that raised me so carefully, those wrinkled up dish-washed hands. How many times had they taken that letter from its envelope, and carefully folded it up again? Did she sit in the middle of the night reading it, or did it beckon to her from its hiding place in the shoe-box on the top of the wardrobe? And why even keep it? Was the hell was she thinking?

Thursday, 22 February 2007

Horse Mad!

I rode a horse once, when I was 18. She was a big old chestnut mare who graciously carried me up onto Bodmin Moor despite the fact that all I had going for me was good balance, strong legs, and the confidence of the terminally stupid. My companion, a highly experienced jockey, decided to pop off for a quick gallop. He said, “Just wait there,” but the mare had other ideas. The minute his back was turned she reared up, whinnied, and set off at full speed back down the hill. Head and neck were nowhere to be seen as she threw herself into the descent.

Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around her as tightly as I could, which made her go even faster. There was a brief moment of relief as the ground evened out and her head reappeared, but then I saw the gate, right in front of us. I thought she’d stop, but no. On she went – straight over the gate – my first (and only) jump! If my companion hadn’t appeared beside us, breathlessly grabbing the reins, and bringing us to a rather abrupt halt, I think she’d have galloped all the way to Bristol. Any sensible person would have been put off, but then I’m not any sensible person.

After 19 years of waiting patiently (read: saving up) I had my first ‘proper’ riding lesson on 12th September last year. I loved every ridiculously expensive second of it. The lady at the riding school told me not to rush out and spend a fortune until I’d had a few more lessons. Very sensible, I agreed, then drove straight to the nearest tack shop and bought a lovely black velvet riding hat, leather riding boots, and a pair of jodhpurs – with full seat no less!

After almost 5 months, I still love going to the stables. I can’t wait until summer when I can spend more time down there. It never fails to amaze me just how hard everyone works – lugging heavy skips of manure to the tip, stuffing hay nets, grooming the horses, sweeping the yard, and a thousand other jobs that can’t be ignored.

Here’s what I've learned so far:

1. Riding is really hard work, and that’s not including all the stuff on the ground! Have you ever tried to get half a tonne (78 stone!) of muscle and bloody mindedness to move over using just your inside leg?!

2. Horses can bite. It hurts like hell. Not only that but they're really fast. They can also kick. I imagine this also hurts like hell.

3. Top class show-jumpers do not mix well with complete beginners. It’s like putting a six year old behind the wheel of a Ferrari. Needless to say, I haven’t been invited back!

4. Good school horses, by contrast, are the most patient teachers you’ll ever meet; forgiving (as in please sit properly, my back’s killing me!), helpful (as in I think you want me to trot/go left/etc. so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and do it for you), and most concerned should they suddenly find you in a heap on the ground!

5. There’s a billion different things to learn, a billion different opinions on how to do them.

6. The crotch area is called ‘the fork’ – as in “Sit back, you’re on your fork!”

7. Horses are expensive. No, like I mean really expensive! Stabling, Vet’s fees, rugs, saddles, bridles, riding lessons, insurance, and we haven’t even started on food, transport (trailers & 4 x 4s), and all the rest of the kit.

8. They also need new shoes, or their feet trimmed every 4 – 6 weeks, so there’s the Farrier to pay too.

9. The world’s largest living horse is called Radar. He stands at 6 feet 7½ inches to the withers (19 hands 3 ½ inches). The withers is at the base of the neck.

The world’s smallest living horse is called Thumbelina. She stands at 17 inches to the withers.

Whereas Radar drinks 20 gallons of water a day, and eats 40 lbs of hay, Thumbelina has a handful of hay twice a day!


10. Not everyone rides horses by sitting in the saddle. The Puszta Team school in Hungary drive a team of horses whilst standing on their backs! And it all started from a painting called the Hungarian Post.



Watch them in action under the link on the left at The History of The Pusza.

Cancelled!

I was all geared up for a course at work - "Every Joe Bloggs, How can I?" I was going to blog about it, only they cancelled it. Bugger. Now I'll never know how to blog!

Tuesday, 20 February 2007

Tagged - 10 things meme

Oh dear, I just got myself tagged - thank you Liz! So here goes nothing...

10 things about me:

1. I have two nationalities, and two passports.
2. My first kiss with with a kid named Patrick who was in my class at Courtenay Elementary High School, in BC. He had no front teeth and collected bugs.
3. I used to collect grass snakes, bring them into the house to scare my mum, and always blamed the dog.
4. I was 15 weeks pregnant when I got married and missed all the food due to morning sickness.
5 & 6. I used to be a bottler in Covent Garden. I loved it. Larry Hagman put £10 in the hat. He was very sweet.
7. I once got alcoholic poisoning from too much Southern Comfort. Now the mere sight of a bottle of the stuff makes me retch. Also, can't drink more than half a glass of anything alcholic without being ill. I'm a cheap date!
8. I've emigrated 5 times between 3 countries, and have itchy feet again.
9. I wanted to be a classical guitarist, but dropped out of music college after a year.
10. I talk to myself in the car, in grammatically poor Spanish.

There ya go. And now ye too, hath beenst taggethed!

Monday, 19 February 2007

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!

Sunday, 18 February 2007

Fetch me that broom!

Ever get the feeling you've taken too much on? It's Sunday, and so far I've done the shopping, washed the school uniforms, cleaned up the rabbit poop from the living room carpet (she's still in the house - alive but dreadfully thin so having to fatten her up before she can go back in the hutch), made a total hash of being sympathetic to sick husband, planned one lesson, and cried a little bit. I'll be okay by Monday, when the kids are back in school, and hubby is back at work. Then I'll play my flamenco music LOUD and clean house, and try to add a few more thousand words to my novel. But until then...

My mother has a saying when she's feeling put upon - "Why don't you shove a broom up my ass and I'll sweep the floor while I'm at it!" Fetch me that broom!

Saturday, 17 February 2007

Valentine's Day?

Oh dear! I'm afraid I missed it. Again.