Yellow Lines

A feeling of Spring seems to have crept into Falmouth. For the last few days street cleaners have been busy moving the dirt around the roads, and strangely leaving chunks of moss all over the pavements. My car is now even dirtier than it was having been sprayed as the little carts with brushes on wheels went past. The house is clean though. The front door was washed down the other day so the black paint is gleaming. And double yellow lines have been painted along the road. Obviously it is now too clean for people to park there.

A day of not getting very much done, but enough to get by. Still can’t seem to rouse myself. Probably compounded by the fact that I am so tired after a week of not sleeping. But maybe now it’s been a week, I can break the cycle. I’ve tried a herbal tea tonight which tasted unexpectedly pleasant. Usually I gulp down herbal teas with a shudder and the hope that they are doing me good. Who’d have thought a combination of chamomile, cinnamon and valerian would taste so nice?

Little bit of stress, bloc magazine has to be launched on Thursday, so tomorrow is our last day for uploading and tidying up. I still have no idea how to upload. I’ll have to smile nicely at people, and perhaps offer them some of my tea. I like the idea of exchanging goods for favours or vice versa. Nothing seedy, just fair exchange. For instance, I made a sponge cake with chocolate chips in it for the weekend for someone who fixed up my printer to my laptop, and I’m happy to give lifts to people in exchange for the occasional cup of tea or coffee, or even a piece of Roskilly’s fudge. I’d even sweep a street for a bag of organic ginger fudge. I have my weaknesses.

Seeing things

I don’t think I’ve walked as much in the last few months as I have for a very long time. I really should have calves of steel by now. I’m sure it must have taken inches off my butt as well. Strangely enough I was reading an article by Gillian McKeith on the same subject only this afternoon. Walking is good. Even better is running up hills. No shortage of films here in Falmouth of course, though whether I’ll be running up any of them is a different matter. Think I’ll stick to a measured stride.

Sunday again I was drawn to the beach, and a good long walk up to the docks and around Pendennis point. As I reached the road overlooking the shipyard, I was slightly disconcerted by a large crowd of people staring out to something. I had a little look too whilst trying to appear that I wasn’t. Maybe I didn’t look hard enough, but I just couldn’t make out what people were staring at. I don’t think a P and O ship in for repainting is that interesting.

Slightly baffled, I moved on, remembering a time when I’d been in Wyoming and had come across a huge crowd of people staring into the bushes at the side of the road. My friend who was driving stopped and we had a look as well. There was nothing there. Someone had stopped and claimed to see a moose, so everyone else had stopped. It turned out to be a large branch.

I did feel somewhat silly though today when it turns out that there had been a warship in the harbour, somehow I’d managed not to see it. Possibly it was too big.
Winter’s end definitely feels here today. Tremough old path is covered in primroses, snowdrops and cyclamen, and Camellias are blooming. Tiny flowers and the promise of Spring I can see.

Saturday

Another beautiful day in Falmouth. I feel much more settled here now, and feel part of life in Falmouth now. Last term I had a subconscious feeling that I didn’t quite belong yet, I was only temporarily here. Now after the first difficult few days back after Christmas, three weeks into term and I can see myself staying here. Money depending of course. The early Spring weather helps, but that is by no means all. I think it’s a change of heart on my part. I don’t find myself thinking of home as much, and counting the days until I can go back to visit. What I miss though is not having my home friends and family here to share experiences with me.

Like walking around the coast and sitting on the beach. I spent a good couple of hours walking round from Castle Beach to Gylly Beach on Saturday at low tide. The rocks were exposed, and made for a wobbly path. I trod very carefully across the seaweed, fortunately I’m fairly sure footed so tripped lightly across the rock ridges and rock pools. I love rock pools, trapped water, and the ripples of light they cast on the rocks. It was very satisfying reaching Gylly beach. I resisted treating myself to an ice cream.

After a clear day, the sky froze, and came as close to a heavy frost as I’ve seen here. I spent Saturday evening at a friend’s house watching Studio Ghibli films, fab. It was a shock to come out though and sea the moon a wounded red in a greenish sky. So cold. And so dark. Just beyond Falmouth, there are no streetlights, and the dark is solid. Strange and beautiful.

Sleepless in Falmouth

I hate this laptop sometimes. Again, after tapping away diligently for several minutes (I type fast) and writing a whole load of quality words, the whole lot disappeared. STUPID COMPUTER. I'm going to hit the keys extra hard to teach it a lesson. At the very least it will make me feel better.

Again, insomnia has me in its infuriating grip. After changing my room around on Monday with some vague ideas of feng shui, and practicality as I kept tripping over things, I have slept only about 10 hours in total. Most of the night and early mornings have been spent lying wide awake in frustration. And after nearly concussing myself at the weekend, I have been walking round in even more of a daze than usual.

when I have finally slept, it's produced some bizarre dreams. Sleeplessness is better than any drug for mind trips. A good dream, possibly some wish fulfillment in there was that my cat had been asked to star in CSI with Gil Grissom or rather the actor, William Petersen. Of course, that meant I had to chaperone her to Las Vegas. Sweet.

Much as I like CSI and Grissom, my favourite is CSI New York. In the last couple of weeks, probably due to the fact that I have still not got my TV working, it's become a bit of an obsession. Much time has been spent on the internet reading episode reviews, news, and fan fiction. Ah fan fiction, it's a strange but compelling world. One which I am not unfamiliar with having spent time a few years ago when I should have been writing essays, writing epic fan fic stories about Start Trek Voyager, X Files and homicide: Life on the Street. Sometimes all three together. My inner geek is never far from the surface. Now of course I'm going to have to have a go at writing some CSI New York fan fic, it's good practice anyway.

I'm afraid though that my mum probably did not help me out with a laptop for me to spend all this time reading fan fiction, so I'll have to ration myself. There's some really good writing there though. www.fanfiction.net is a great site.

Other than that, I have been having fun, and enjoying life on the Cornish coast. My Mills and Boon writing partner and I dared each to swim in the sea last week, and so on Friday afternoon, in front of more people than we realised there would be on Gylly beach at that time, we stripped down to our underwear and made a rush for the sea. Wow! So, so cold, but SO much fun, exhilarating. We were very pleased with ourselves and plan to do it again very soon.

As long as the weather stays as beautiful as it has done. since Thursday it has been balmy: crystal blue skies, crisp clear air and sunlight. I have walked for miles, and then sat still in deep joy because I can be here and sit by the sea in January with the sun on my face. I am so glad I came here.

Dogs in coats

Sometimes little things make me smile: a still puddle reflecting the sky, mist creeping up the river, ships' masts ringing in the wind. And dogs. I love dogs, not quite as much as I love cats, cats are my passion, but dogs have my affection.

Our family dog is a Whippet crossed with a Staffordshire Terrier, and is the silliest dog, once she starts running, she just keeps on going. Usually to our horror, as she disappears out of sight. Several times I've had an asthma attack chasing her up the road, or along the beach as she merrily streaks off into a blur of brindled fur. But we love her, and she is desperate to be loved by anyone she meets.

Her one fault though has to be jealousy. she is terribly jealous of my cat, to the extent that if I'm at home, and my cat is sitting on my knee, Molly will sidle up and nudge Lily off my knee, and then climb up herself. There is a big difference between a dainty tortoiseshell and white cat, and a hefty brindled dog who is never short of a meal or three.

Molly also owns a coat, and a t shirt, and a jumper, none of which I am guilty of buying for her. but she does look very appealing in them. Especially her coat; it's a little too long, so hangs off her slightly, leaving her little legs running along out from underneath. A dog in a coat passed me down by the Falmouth hotel yesterday and grinned at me as it went past. I grinned back.

Books and lists

This is now the second time I have written this, something is badly wrong with the mousepad on my laptop, so having spent valuable time writing an incredible piece of writing (trust me on this) something clicked without me doing anything, and it was all gone. I HATE technology sometimes.

Anyway... liking both books and lists, I decided to combine the two, and celebrate the sheer number and variety of books that I have devoured since re-discovering the joys of free books from the library in mid December. It's also a slightly obsessive thing, I like to keep a record of things, and maybe someone out there might be interested in what I've read. Being nosy myself, I like to see what books other people possess or have read.
In no particular order then:

Terry Pratchett:
Men at Arms
Nightwatch
Thud!

It's always difficult to explain how something was funny, but this had one passage that made me cry with laughter. It all concerned a small talking dog, whose voice can only be heard by most people as suggestive thoughts, a pompous captain of the nightwatch, and the dog telling the captain that he has an itchy bottom... prickle, prickle, prickle

Alexander McCall Smith
The Right Attitude to Rain
The Careful Use of Compliments

Both of these are Isobel Dalhousie novels, the short series that began with 'the Sunday Philosophy Club'. My favourite books are the No 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, and I'm eagerly waiting the next title, but these are an enjoyable read. One thing I did notice after these two was a kind of repetitive tic that is present in characters' dialogue, and sometimes narrative, a statement will be made twice, a distinctive trait of the ambling prose, but not always bad

M.C. Beaton
Agatha Raisin and the Walkers of Dembley
Agatha Raisin and Love, Lies and Liquor

I tried a couple of these titles, having been aware of them for some time, and wasn't quite sure what to make. I'd assumed from the name of the eponymous heroine that they were a humorous series. There is humour there, but there's also quite an undercurrent of nastiness. Like the author doesn't always like her character, and humiliates her, or can't quite decide either if the stories are to be serious or humorous. The second title I read is a fairly recent one from a growing list, and had a jaded feel to it, as if it had got to the perfunctory stage of writing the next book in the series. I don't think I'll read any more

Brian Jacques
High Rhulain

Although they've been around since I was a child, I hadn't read any of the Redwall series until I picked a few up whilst on holiday a couple of years ago. I liked them, but the more I read, the more the formula becomes obvious. It's a formula that works as the books sell tremendously, but it's true to say that once you've read a few, there's little difference between the titles. Each has some vermin (bad animals; rats, cats, foxes) the good guys from the abbey, a young animal who has been chosen by fate and Martin the Warrior following a dream, the obligatory incredibly annoying baby animals, another hidden part of the Abbey itself (Elsie J Oxenham fell into this with the Abbey Girls series) and a quest. the animal characters are all very distinctive, and this can sometimes get frustrating, but an entertaining read, and if you've never tried one, I would, but just a few.

Diana Wynne Jones
The Lives of Christopher Chant
The Merlin Conspiracy
Howl's Moving Castle
Mixed Magics
The Pinhoe Egg

An author I did read when I was little, and I think I was too young for at the time, so re-discovering. A brilliant magic and fantasy writer, always intriguing characters and worlds, and a sense of humour always underlying. 'Howl's Moving Castle' is a Studio Ghibli animated film also

Elinor Brent Dyer
The Chalet School and Barbara
Trials for the Chalet School

Re-reads, probably 3rd or 4th time, but always a good read, and a comforting experience also. I love the Chalet school and all the characters, I've read them all at least once, but savour them and don't read them too often.

Lilian Jackson Braun
The Cat who went up the creek
The Cat who dropped a bombshell
The Cat Who lived high
The Cat who brought down the house

Another winning formula series, there are around thirty titles now about Jim Qwilleran and his Siamese cat companions, who also solve murder and mysteries. They stand up to repeated readings, but sometimes Mr Q and his world gets a little too comfortable and parochial and the most recent title, 'The cat who dropped a bombshell' felt very dissatisfying, loose ends weren't tied up, and again felt churned out

The Big Book of Bagpuss - one of my favourite Christmas presents! Lots of stories and stills from the programme

A Book of Cottages - a fascinating history of the English cottage
i before e except after c - another Christmas present, a treasure of facts and mnemonics
As well as my own books, I ploughed through a lot of my parents' books whilst at home, histories of Liverpool and the slave trade, a history of Kitty Wilkinson, a book of Liver Birds, a history of Cheshire, a book of stately homes. And finally an odd little book by Henry Williamson, the author of 'Tarka the Otter' this was a collection of short stories, 'The Peregrine's Saga'.
Read on

Shoes and Boots

It rains a lot in Falmouth. Certainly seems to be true for this time of year. As I was leaving the post office this afternoon, I caught a glimpse of a newspaper headline promising a month's rainfall in 2 days. Summer all over again! There must have been at least a month's worth of rain yesterday in Truro. Unfortunately, my boots have at this most inconvenient time of year, finally worn away, the sole separating from the upper, so water rushes in, horrible. They've taken on a truly scruffy and graveyard like appearance. I may have to sacrifice some of my sweets and chocolates budget to buy new ones.

I'm tempted by a lovely, shiny pair of doc martens in the budget boot seller in town. There's something very special about a shiny new pair of boots. It was one of the small tragedies of my childhood that I never had a pair of patent leather shoes, despite pestering for them for years. In fact, I don't think I ever have had a pair of patent leather shoes, being old enough for some time now to buy my own, I don't know why I haven't, perhaps now I should. And perhaps I could be even more decadent and buy them in red.

Unlike several of my friends, who hold shamelessly to the cliche that women love shoes, I don't. (Always want to be different) I don't dislike them, I just don't have a passion for them. Boots I do like, and own several pairs, but it takes time and effort for me to actually buy them. Often it's sheer laziness, and the hassle of having to go to the shops, try them one and choose. As with many purchases, once I have bought them, I suffer guilt at spending money, and am wracked with worry that I've chosen the wrong ones. I always keep my receipts.

Perhaps another hang over from childhood when my sisters and I were miserably taken to Startrite and humiliated with footwear. Not entirely our mum's fault, it was just what was available in the mid to late 1980s and early 90s. My worst ever shoes were a pair of grey lace ups, highly polished, slate grey with thick, flat rubber soles also grey, from Startrite. At the same time I was also taken to the hairdressers and given a spiked fringe. It was not a happy school year at Greasby Juniors until my hair grew, and the shoes were mysteriously wrecked. Rough concrete playgrounds and school brick walls have their benefits. So do being a grown up and choosing your own shoes - I'll never have to wear grey lace ups again!

Snowdrops

The first of the year I saw today braving the rush of wind along the old drive to Tremough house. Primroses as well as snowdrops, little signs of Spring that made me feel lighter and happier. It began as another grey day, but the sun eased through the clouds at lunchtime and it became a beautiful, fresh day with little golden lights in the grass. But as is the way of things, the clouds bullied their way through and on my way to Truro, I literally drove into one of the biggest rain storms I've ever seen. There was a curtain of white rain and hail which slashed the roads and cars, in seconds there was a flood of water that the car was crawling through. It was terrifying, but wonderful at the same time. The power of water is devastating.

A reminder of mortality came today, at the risk of sounding morbid and gloomy. When caught in the rainstorm, I was heading for the hospital for a test, which I'm sure will be fine, but I have to wait a week to be certain. And had to face a doctor sticking a needle in my neck several times, having missed the right place the first time. I'm sure there was a glint of enjoyment in his eyes. Fortunately, I'm not a fainting type. And I'm only slightly scarred.

Hospitals are interesting places for listening to people. A lot of us were squeezed into a waiting room, waiting for quite a while. Various conversations were going on, one about bridges, one about vases. Not the place to pull out a notebook and start jotting, so I listened as inconspicuously as possible whilst browsing through a copy of Yachting World.

Complete change of subject, but big idea for a non-fiction book has now changed completely again. I was all fired up to write about motorways and all that goes with them, but found my enthusiasm fading. So have now decided to write about Steam Railways, and discover my inner anorak. Shouldn't be too hard to find, as I have also been a star trek fan, going so far as to attend a convention a few years ago.
Trainspotters (and anoraks) rule.

Swan Pool

Feeling very fit and pleased with myself for walking at least five miles today, in and around Falmouth, and all the way to Swanpool and back. In between rain and sullen clouds, the sun came out, and I set off. It's a beautiful coastal path walk from Gylly beach, round the coast to Swanpool beach, and the Swan Pool itself. Went slightly the wrong way and had a meander round the cemetery, which was fine. As an angst-ridden teenager, my friends and I, sometimes in a group and sometimes on our own, would sit and moan about life in the cemetery at West Kirby. I don't find them creepy places, just very peaceful and good places to have a think. Or compose a story. As I walked past the pool on my way back, and glimpsed a swan in the shallows, on the ground I saw a leaf fallen in the shape of a swan. A little coincidence, but very pleasing.

I had gone to call on friends, who fortunately were in, and very kindly welcomed me with a cup of tea and some Christmas cake, which I felt justified in eating after my arduous hike. Very nice, lovely and sweet. The marzipan was an unusual recipe, made with oat flour rather than almond flour, but it was really good. And I was given a second slice without even asking! My friends are an older couple who are very kind and good people, and have helped make me very welcome in Falmouth.

I've been trying to write a sketch for ages now, to send to DumbFunded, set up by some of my fellow students for a comedy showcase they're putting on here in Falmouth, so far I've failed miserably to find anything funny or interesting. I think I'm just not funny. The idea is for it to have a sense of place, and where I used to live, Birkenhead, seemed to be somewhere I could write a lot about, being the kind of place where pyjama clad women may be seen in middle of the town centre on a January day, and where I was once woken at 3am by three drunken milkmen outside my front door... I'll keep trying.

Housemates okay, may be me being over sensitive, but when and if the moment comes, I'll perhaps just drop in casually about things. I think I could worry too much about this. Much better to think instead about things like the rainbow I saw over the harbour this morning. Some things are more important.

Grey Day

I don't think the sun has even bothered to drag itself into the sky today: grey skies, grey sea, grey mood. My brain was racing and burning with things I was convinced I had to do such as email someone very urgently, and tell them a computer code. Madness. It felt like it. then I was burning hot and had to throw the sash window up. So of course this morning after I'd finally fallen asleep I was freezing.

There seems to be a somewhat cold feeling (nice segue...) between one of my housemates and myself. I don't know if I'm being too sensitive, and imagining, but just something seems not quite right. I'm worried that it might be because I offered first to babysit, and she'd have liked to. Perhaps I should have asked her first, I don't know. That seems rather childish. So I haven't said anything, or apologised. Will just wait and see. It's just a few small things like her going to Asda, asking our other housemate to go with her, and not saying anything to me. Maybe just thoughtless. I think I worry too much about offending people. Perhaps because I can be easily offended myself?

More cheese and apple today, enough brooding. January's an easy month to fall into self-pity and depression. I'll try and forget that I spent a long time this morning filling in an online survey, purely to try and win some tickets, to find at the end that it wouldn't accept my entry. But that was fine... Good thoughts. I'm being taken out for a drink tonight. Very good thought.

Scrabble

A very civilised evening indeed, a light supper of cheese with apple slices, and a game of scrabble. I lost, disgracefully, as I have two degrees in English... just drop that in there... so really should have won. But my excuse is that I don't often play, I'm more of a monopoly girl, with ideas of world domination.

I feel better about the work as I've just handed in a piece early, to hopefully make up for being late last week. It was with a slightly smug feeling that I sent it in. If only I can keep this up. Really need to keep up with stuff, it's very easy to fall behind. I need to get my head around the new role I've taken on for University College Falmouth's online magazine, Bloc http://www.bloconline.com/ as long as I know what I'm doing it'll be fine... After a nearly three hour meeting today, I really should.

Slightly disconcerting feeling just then that I've lost some typing, I'm still getting the hang of this laptop, and it has scary tendency to click the mouse pad even when I haven't touched it, could be risky. I'm finding myself a little bit reluctant to completely let go of my pc. It's still sitting next to me on the desk, looking slightly cumbersome now next to a sleek and glossy laptop. But it had become familiar and comfortable. I know all its little foibles and faults, it wasn't cluttered with lots of programmes I didn't use - just office and a photo editing programme - these I don't yet have on the laptop.

Problem with the pc is its size - no flat screen monitor, and it doesn't have a wireless connection. Living in a tiny room, size matters, and for the course, I need the internet to hand. So it may, sadly, find itself in the classified adverts in the next couple of weeks. Please give my pc a home. I never shy away from being shamelessly emotionally manipulative.

Attempted to meet with someone today, so arrived early at our chosen venue, then found myself in a dilemma - do I hang around looking faintly shifty in front of the dining room, or do I brazen it out and go in and sit on my own? I chose to be brazen, unusually, I find it very difficult still even in my late twenties to enter a pub or cafe on my own.

Anyway, I sat and wriggled for a while, debating whether to spend on a cup of tea and packet of custard creams. I resisted. No sign of Christina. I gave up after ten minutes of surreptitiously looking round. Finally, I met her later, for our Bloc meeting, and apparently we had both been in the dining room. But by that point it was too late. An empty packet of custard creams and a polystyrene cup were in front of me. The biscuits always win.

Guilt

Lots of it, lots of things, maybe listing them will help...
I haven't written this for two weeks, laziness has gripped me
My parents bought me a laptop for Christmas, I hope I can do well enough now to deserve this.
I didn't think to ask for a student discount when we bought it, could have saved them some money.
I haven't been in touch with two close friends for ages, the longer I leave it, the harder it gets: I missed sending a birthday card to one, and wasn't able to go the wedding of the other
I hardly sent any Christmas cards out, and wasn't able to spend much money on Christmas presents for people.
Last night I missed a friend's pizza party to do babysitting to earn a few pounds, which should have been more important?
I hate January

Okay, the last thing wasn't guilt so much, as maybe the reason for too much brooding. I've been back in Falmouth nearly a week now, with my brand new laptop, and thus access to the wireless internet where I'm renting, but I seem to be gripped with inactivity, and gloom. I've hardly touched the computer, or taken advantage of being on the internet when I like,something I'd been really looking forward to (I have no TV, have to find entertainment somewhere) but only today have I forced myself to open up the dread machine. Stupid really.

There seems to be a fog of depression around, I'm not the only one feeling similarly. Nothing seems good. The story for our Mills and Boon book seems to already have been done; I missed an assignment, the first one all year, and I've not written any of my own work. And I've eaten huge quantities of sugar. My teeth are cursing me.

The only good thing is at last I've got going on this again. I have missed it, Christmas and New Year at home were great, but bad for writing, there was too much else to do, and I fell right out of routine, and am struggling to get it back. It will come. In the meantime, there's a small bag of jelly babies to finish.