Ole ole ole

Don´t know where to start really, and am on my way to the beach to do some writing, so won´t stay long here, but...

Language

What hard work it´s been to keep up with my friends in their language. I found them one by one, and the first day was a nightmare of trying to understand. Every so often I just gave up and went quiet, and Celia would look at me with that look that says, I understand... the translator in your head just blew a gasket!

Yesterday I took a train and went up into the mountains to find another friend who is living in the campo. Now that was interesting! That has to go in the novel. Photos will be posted when I get home. Brace yourselves!!! I was just pleased I managed to get there with a change of train involved. How clever am I???

What else. Hubby sounds like he missed me. I do hope they are all getting on alright while I´m out here catching up with everyone. GUILT! ARGH!!!

Right - better go the beach then... it is such a hard life!

Oh yes, and I AM working my backside off. Even spent two hours in a bookshop researching stuff in MALAGA.

Venga muchachos - es me voy ya!

p.s. It´s 30 C here and blue skies all round. Mountains behind me - sea infront. Ah que me encanta esta costa.

Adios y hasta pronto!

I am going to Spain. OMG. The time is upon me! (It's gone over soooo fast).

I am taking my costochondritis with me, alas, but not going to be put off by constant pain and nausea (I'm such a trooper don't you think!!!).

Other things I am taking include:

- sexy notebook
- pens and paper
- water colour paints
- horse anatomy colouring book (why? why not?!)

So am currently trying to decide between wheelie suitcase (small) and rucksack (bigger). I think the rucksack is going to win cos I might buy things (hmmm, shopping...) and will need space for stuff, eh! Obviously I'll buy cheap stuff as have spent most of my money on flights, apartment and er... horse riding - Oops.

So will be busily making TONS of notes on NOVEL and working REALLY REALLY hard. I won't be sunning myself on the beach unless it is in order to write about it, or course. The apartment is a few doors down from where I used to live too, so how is that for forward planning. It'll be perfick!

Am secretly getting quite nervous/excited about riding bit of holiday, but had a crackin' jumping lesson yesterday and apart from horrific pains in ribs and upper torso, I was ok. Oh dear.

So hasta luego. I shall have to practise some Spanish but have run out of time. I watched Volver the other night and that was fab but thank Christ for subtitles. Worried? Preocupado? Yo? I'll be fine, just fine :)

Freak Accidents, Driving on the Pavement, and Sexy Notebooks, in no particular order!

Would you just look at what landed in my toe!!! And er... before we go any further, apologies for the poor quality of images but hubby has swiped the camera and taken it to Italy to take pics of mountains, so left with 2 megapixel camera on my phone (still - not bad for a phone all said and done!)

Shard of Glass

I was squeezing into a gap filled with picture frames (waiting to be hung since we moved in 6 years ago) and my huge arse managed to break the thin glass on a poster sized affair. I watched in slow motion as the glass sliced through the air in swift silence and then went through my foot with equal ease. Quite a lot of blood for such a small hole - but deep my darlings - deep so that the blood came out that gorgeous crimson colour. Great colour for wine and soft furnishings, but not so great on socks, skin, and cream carpets.

Maybe the fact that it didn't hurt is due to the copious amounts of pain killers I'm taking for the old costochondritis, and may I just say what a difference a doctor can make - or not as the case may be. Doc number one all those weeks ago was fab. He listened and appeared to have all the time in the world even though I know he was on the same time starved schedule of doctor number two. He poked me with care. He expressed sympathy with said pain that ensued. He could put Bupa to shame. Doctor number two was crap (on Monday). She made me feel like an NHS patient that deserved to be pushed and rushed. Same diagnosis, whole different ball game. She could do with reviewing her bedside manner a tad, methinks. She poked with venom and informed me that my 5 minutes was up and if I wanted an answer to another question I needed to make another appointment! I was ushered out the door with the words, "So can I keep running?" left hanging in the air. So I went home and ran. Ouch.

But it's not all bad. We have a new kettle that glows in the dark. I am such a sucker for lighty up things and I know it's bad for the environment but it's a low energy jobbie and says so on the box. It glows blue for 'on' and red for 'boiling'. It is most cool!

AND

I found the perfect note-book to take on my research trip. It's a little leather bound affair as you can see below, and even has a little pocket in the back for... for... for something! Notes perhaps! I'm going to fill it with inspiring bits and pieces from my research trip. I love note-books. And it was only £4.99 which is cheap for a little leather bound beauty designed for water-colour sketches. Am going to take my water-colour mini travel kit that Amanda bought me too, with the tiny fold-away brush.

Last but not least, have been hacking out to get experience in for Spain next week. Yesterday I did a 2 hour hack and got to gallop on the beach and then canter through the pine woods. It was like, totally awesome, dudes and dudettes!!! I learned loads too, not least that horses can leap, yes, leap, sideways onto the pavement if a truck makes enough noise on its way past! I learned to be more aware and luckily no one was using the pavement at the time. The next time a big truck came trundling along I was there with lots of leg, kind words of reassurance and lots of pats. He was fine after that, until we met a wheelie bin!

A big thank you to the kind lady who passed me my riding crop back at the level crossing after I dropped it! I don't know - these bloody novices eh! Can't take us anywhere!

10st 6lbs, 0 fags, 0.54 miles, 10 lengths

Well well well. It's been a funny old week this end. It was, all of a sudden, the last week before school, and then much as I intended to get done, it was over. Time, eh. Still can't get my head around it after 37+ years of the stuff.

So hubby went off gallivanting with his mates. Sends me regular pics of the latest mountain he's just climbed. For example:



It does, admittedly, look rather lush, but also looks a bit terrifying to me, so not at all upset at missing out on that one! (Although I've never been to Italy)

Back here in Blighty, it's been a case of ironing school uniforms, learning to tie a tie (hmm - and with no man in the house - how brilliant am I?!), writing names in tiny black pumps, and erm... not really doing any writing at all. Oh dear.

Riding is going well though ;-) Have now progressed to the point where the horse is getting a nice outline, is tracking under well, and does the paces I want when I want them. (And I know what these things are which is even more progress!) Still got miles to go, but at least I'm still loving it.

What else? The costochondritis (or Tietze's disease - 'cos it gets on your tits?! ha ha!) is back with a vengeance. All that running. Ouch and ouch again. Last night it was full on - elephant sitting on chest, short of breath, pain to touch the sternum, agony on coughing... the works really. And the old anti-inflammatories worked after a day so going back to quacks to find out more (as opposed to self-doctoring using the internet which probably isn't the best, I know).

So all's well after a fashion. Not writing a bean though which is bad. Very Bad. I am bad bad bad.

I am reading. Does that count?

I am getting ready to go on a research trip. Does that count?

I am letting the ideas fester like that expensive cheese with the dodgy blue veins. Does that count?

Does anyone even give a toss?!!!

10st 9lbs, 0 fags, 5kg nuts, 0.54 mile, 52 words

Please not the shoes are skateboarding alone, and never with me in them!

You see what happens? Swim 40 lengths and it takes until Sunday to recover enough to blog again!

Actually, seeing as I've turned into such a fat b**t**d, I'm going to subject you to what I've been doing about it. I feel like Bridget Jones except of course I have 2 children and have married my Mr Darcy already, and am so content that the big knickers have invaded the lingerie draw and chocolates have infested the kitchen. (And crisps. Salt & Vinegar ones).

So on Wednesday I had a riding lesson and it damn near killed me. No really. What effort. I snorted and huffed and puffed all the way around our 20 metre circle, cursing the bloke at the health club who insists riding is NOT a CV (that's cardio vascular, or OUT OF PUFF to you and me). I was at the VERY OUT OF PUFF stage after only 15 mins riding. Hacking is so much easier!

So I went and swam another 40 lengths on Thursday, and bought running shoes (oh dear). So I had to justify the purchase by actually running.

Running. What a shite activity. Okay, I get out of puff in a riding lesson, but it is fun. Running is crap. I ran around the block. I got half way and collapsed - chest heaving, boobs killing me (must invest in a sports bra), eye-balls popping, bent double. I had a stitch and wanted to throw up. The men sitting in the pub garden were shouting things like, "Way hey - what have we got here then?" I don't know what we've got here - a fat bastard who's trying to get fit and would rather other fat bastards left her alone, perhaps? (I don't know if they were fat but I could smell their fags and wanted one so I staggered on by and didn't look).

A friend rang the other day and said she runs for an hour. An hour?!!!! Is she taking the piss? I ran for 3 minutes and nearly had a heart attack. The following day I got three quarters of the way around the block, and went early before the pub opened (HA!). Same side effects but did make progress, only today my calves are like rocks and not very cheery at all. I'll keep you posted as to how I get on, and for your info (yeah - like you care but hey...) it's half a mile around my block. I measured it on Google Earth cos you can do clever stuff like that.

In fact I spent a good couple of writing hours measuring distances on Google. My old apartment in Spain, for example, was 0.16 miles from the beach on foot. I used to walk a minimum of 5 miles a day, and was so skint I ate very little. Hence I was lovely and slender when I lived there. Unlike here where I am the product of having a car, a husband who provides for me, a job of my own, and am not smoking so have an appetite.

I think I have bored you enough. Can't remember where the writing is up to but am writing again! Hurrah! This novel will get finished if it bloody kills me. But am determined to get fit too!

Curse the purchase of running shoes... and Jon - how the hell did you run a marathon?!!!!!

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! :-(

Fat, fed up, and fundless!

I've been waiting by the letter box for ages. Months in fact. I've been waiting, and eating - but not smoking - so I'm now half a stone heavier than I was and feel enormous.

But I was waiting in the hope that a letter would arrive from the AHRC (that's the Arts and Humanities Research Council) and that (hoping beyond all hope) it wouldn't matter that I'm getting old and fat because I'd get funding for my PhD and everything would be then be hunky dory.

Except (you guessed it and I knowed it) I got the letter and the letter was crap.

Boo bloody Hoo.

Apparently my application that had to squish 5,000 words into the space of 500 (with references) was not good enough. The letter said, "The standard was, as ever, extremely high and many good candidates have been disappointed." It went on to say that I had scored, "Good application, priority for an award, Grade 4." So a pat on the back but no cigar. Not that I'd want a cigar, you understand, cos I don't bloody smoke anymore (and so can't even drown my sorrows in tobacco (or alcohol cos booze makes me ill)). Jeezuz ah needz a vice!

So am a tiny but fed up. Take a moment to savour the depths of my understatement there. No funding. No £12,000 a year to do my PhD. Nope. Nada. Zilch. No money. Ni una puta duro.

On the plus side I suppose it means that I can stay part time for my PhD which given the current rate of progress can only be a good thing, and it also means that the pile of crap I wrote on the application about hybrid novel forms and short story sequences, can go to hell in a paperback shredder for all I care. I am now free to write whatever comes out. So there.

And while I'm trying to look on the bright side, I am still going to have two glorious weeks in Spain in which to do some serious research for the novel I am determined to finish now that I've got this far (and sod the funding). And even better than that, on Thursday I went out on a hack to the beach.

To the beach! And oh it was soooo wonderful I can't tell you. It was the most superb thing I've ever done, galloping along the sands at the water's edge, the wind and the sea spray. And the speed. Oh lord. I'm an atheist I know, but I was shouting Oh My God in head, and was thanking the great whatever for being alive all the way back to the yard.

So thank the great white spirit for horses, and beaches, and Spain, and f*** being fed up, fat and fundless.

Apologies...

... for the appalling lack of posts at the moment, not to mention the word counter that appears to be frozen in time. Call this a writing blog? I hear you cry, and again, I heartily apologise.

But it is summer don't you know, and there are children who want to do things/go places/see people. I am exhausted from sliding down water filled pipes, running up and down sand dunes, and today was particularly good - getting lost and walking for 5 miles across scrub land with 3 kids - 2 of which weren't even mine! But it's all good fun, eh!

This week is fun filled and packed with adventure. Tomorrow is more swimming, and Wednesday is visiting, and Thursday is hacking out on horseback, and Friday is thinking of something to do with the sproglets again again again. Hmm.

So the writing is thin on the ground, and to be honest I think I needed the break because the words just weren't there for a while. And I was a bit worried, but then now I have stopped worrying they're coming back again. *sighs with relief*

And the best bit is that I get to go to Spain for a research trip and I am soooo excited, and so nervous, and I feel so guilty because I'm going all by my ownsome...

And I only have to write the whole novel (first draft) for October. Hmm. That's what I'll be doing on the beach in September then, eh!

P.S. In a fit of madness have been to hair dresser and gone EVEN blonder. Argh!!!!

The Darwin Awards

In case you aren't familiar with the Darwin Awards, they are "A Chronicle of Enterprising Demises" or, in other words, killing oneself accidently due to absolute stupidity and therefore saving the genepool from hapless biological heritance.

I love 'em! But then I have a sick sense of humour, perhaps.

The way to win a Darwin Award is clear.

You must be responsible for your own death due to your own stupidity. Like the man who stuffed boxes into a hydraulic box crusher with his foot only to find it sucked his foot (and the rest of him) into the press. Or the man who decided to re-enact Benjamin Franklin's lightening experiment only without any of the precautions for safety, and made a kite and attached a piece of copper wire to it. The lightening bolt travelled (predictably enough) down the length of the high tensioned wire and killed him. The best bit is that the man in question was an electrician who really ought to have known better!

The official rules read as follows:

Reproduction
Out of the gene pool: dead or sterile.
Excellence
Astounding misapplication of judgment.
Self-Selection
Cause one's own demise.
Maturity
Capable of sound judgment.
Veracity
The event must be true.

Armed America - scary Americans

On Sunday I read the Sunday Times Magazine. Fine. Then I got to the middle bit and I saw a vision of hell.

No really. Did you see it?!

Page 26. Double page spread in full colour of a mum and dad with little boy who looks about 3. They are arranged in a lovely, smiling portrait style pose. The little boy wears a Superman costume but we can forgive him for that. (He's only 3 and they could be PJ's). What is disturbing about this scene is the fact that mum and dad aka Donno and Judi are wielding, along with their angelic-butter-wouldn't-melt-family-devotees smiles, two assault rifles that wouldn't look out of place on the Serengeti. What, one wonders, are they hunting in their sitting room?

Worse. They named the kid Uzi. Oh dear.

So the right to bear arms, in the good old constitution for over 200 years, was almost acceptable given that there were wild animals to deal with back then, oh and tomahawk marauding Indians (well, my rather pissed off ancestors actually who did have genuine cause for complaint, but we won't go on about that now...).

But back to the article. Turn the page and it gets worse. A young boy who looks too young to drive proudly shows off 6 handguns of varying scariness, and what looks like 4 assault rifles. Dan has "a dozen" guns apparently, (and a dozen Domino Pizza boxes in the corner of an otherwise empty yet pristine room). He says, "I consider the ownership of arms not only a right, but a duty of a free people to themselves and future generations." Oh shit! Pardon me.

The pic below is another family - mum, dad, and small child who chews on something while daddy brandishes another massive assault rifle. Another family has "an M4 carbine with telescopic sight - the semiautomatic version of the rifle favoured by the US and Israeli security forces." They also have 2 dogs and a child in the shot (boom boom).

More information on the article can be found here and the book, Armed America:Portraits of Gun Owners in Their Homes by Kyle Cassidy is published by David & Charles, more info here. I think I'll be too freaked out to read it though!