Sunday night. As last Sunday, I’m sitting in my room, the room that is now where I seem to spend most of my time, doing what I seem to do now more than anything else, tapping away at a keyboard. It’s either that or scribbling away in a notebook. It’s beginning to trouble me that I have too close a relationship with my laptop, and my notebook, some kind of bizarre love triangle. And I spend too much time on the internet.
At least today I left the house for a few hours in a row, and went for one of the most beautiful walks I’ve ever been on through glossy green fields and bluebell woods, down to the Helford River. It began at an ancient farm house in Constantine, through farmland with the most rich, red soil I’ve seen outside of Shropshire. Something appeals deeply to me about old farm yards and barns with streamers of dusty cobwebs from rafters, and chipped whitewashed walls. The view though from this farm yard was awesomely beautiful - I know exactly now what rolling fields and downs are, slopes of grass and wooded paths.
The bluebells too were something else, swaying carpets of blue, changing in the sunlight. I think it was one of the strangest experiences of my life this walk, with a group of older people (I was probably the youngest by easily twenty years) wandering along non-existent paths in the woods, trying not to trample on the bluebells and wood anemones. It reminded me too, or would have done had I had a young man for company, of Thomas Hardy’s ‘The Woodlanders’ as they walk amongst the roots and branches of the forest.
The walk ended much more prosaically, and happily though with a cream tea in the garden of the farm house. Real clotted cream on thick scones and a slab of chocolate cake. Washed down with tea in blue and white striped cups, Wonderful. Except I had to do another walk in the evening to walk off the sinful amount of cake and cream I had consumed. Lentils and bread tomorrow, and another walk through the bluebells around Pendennis.
Sunday, 27 April 2008
Friday, 18 April 2008
Milk
It certainly doesn’t seem like April. I have been disillusioned by the Cornish weather, and my dreams of sunning myself on the beach whilst a balmy breeze washed over has seriously not happened. I get text asking how life in Sunny Falmouth is, and I have to tell them that it doesn’t exist as yet. No, that’s not strictly true, there have been a few good days when the sun has shone and as long as you’re behind glass in its rays, the chill lifts from your bones. Otherwise, it’s bloody freezing. I cannot get warm at all, and have spent most evening pressed against my radiator shivering, and being thankful for a portable laptop.
I braved the weather to leave the house three times today, three times more into the blistering cold. The sky was a very strange silver grey, and then sickly yellow. The sea I was watching smashing into the headlands, and rocking the little ships. I was glad to be indoors, when I was, and wishing I was after heading out to buy milk. I got in after my first sojourn having willed myself along with the promise of a cup of tea, only to arrive sodden in the kitchen to discover I had no milk. I hate that. So out again, thankfully Tescos is not far. Tea never tasted better.
One more trip out to catch up with Rob and Carlo, then I chained myself to my chair and the computer. I have to stop distracting myself with boiling the kettle, even getting lunch takes up time, but I’m not prepared to give up food just yet, even for writing.
I also took a couple of hours after doing some work and treated myself to another chapter of my epic story, which I was totally awed to discover has received over 10,000 hits on the website! I’m stunned. I also had a short story written for me following a request, and to my huge enjoyment yesterday, I discovered that two people would like me to play parts in the scripts they are writing. So nice, I’m really flattered. I will have to return the favour.
Fortunately my script scenes that I tortured myself writing last week seem to be okay after my tutorial this morning - my first and most valid reason for leaving the house. Which was a relief, I’d written them, emailed them, and let them go. Now I have some things to work on and focus on. Maybe I’ll get there. I hope so.
I braved the weather to leave the house three times today, three times more into the blistering cold. The sky was a very strange silver grey, and then sickly yellow. The sea I was watching smashing into the headlands, and rocking the little ships. I was glad to be indoors, when I was, and wishing I was after heading out to buy milk. I got in after my first sojourn having willed myself along with the promise of a cup of tea, only to arrive sodden in the kitchen to discover I had no milk. I hate that. So out again, thankfully Tescos is not far. Tea never tasted better.
One more trip out to catch up with Rob and Carlo, then I chained myself to my chair and the computer. I have to stop distracting myself with boiling the kettle, even getting lunch takes up time, but I’m not prepared to give up food just yet, even for writing.
I also took a couple of hours after doing some work and treated myself to another chapter of my epic story, which I was totally awed to discover has received over 10,000 hits on the website! I’m stunned. I also had a short story written for me following a request, and to my huge enjoyment yesterday, I discovered that two people would like me to play parts in the scripts they are writing. So nice, I’m really flattered. I will have to return the favour.
Fortunately my script scenes that I tortured myself writing last week seem to be okay after my tutorial this morning - my first and most valid reason for leaving the house. Which was a relief, I’d written them, emailed them, and let them go. Now I have some things to work on and focus on. Maybe I’ll get there. I hope so.
Struggling
April has gone by too fast, how did we get here? Am I going to say this every month? Well, I haven’t been neglecting writing, far from it. I sit at my laptop every day and type, and at night I sit up in bed for hours with a notebook and pen, more words. They keep coming, but I can’t always make them work for me. Maybe that’s good though, that I’m struggling and having to think more about the words I use, and how I use them.
I keep thinking at the moment about all the language I lack, languages of subjects that I have no knowledge of. I read a story where a city was described as an ‘endothermic organism’ and it was just the most perfect description, but one I could not have come up with because I am not a scientist.
I am also not an architect, or an engineer, and yet they use words that I love and striked chords within me such as architraves, buttresses, beam engines. I know very little of the language of music, but if I did it would inform my writing. I need to know more. Maybe that realisation is the start of it.
So I just keep writing and reading, trying new words, new forms and seeing what happens. I’m struggling to write what we have to though. I have to complete and Industry Analysis on my work experience placement, and I cannot do it. And it has to be in on Monday. Website too, that is completely stuck. The worst is a horrible creeping feeling that at the moment I just do not care. I don’t want to do it. I have stories in my head and until they are out, I can’t do anything else.
Sometimes it feels like I just want to crawl away and scream go away. Oh dear, this is getting dark. It’s really not that bad. I think I have been troubled by writers’ envy, after reading such a good story it made me cry, and it’s not finished, and I am in such fear for the characters. I wish I could have written it. I guess what I need to do is to try and write as good as. Keep writing.
I keep thinking at the moment about all the language I lack, languages of subjects that I have no knowledge of. I read a story where a city was described as an ‘endothermic organism’ and it was just the most perfect description, but one I could not have come up with because I am not a scientist.
I am also not an architect, or an engineer, and yet they use words that I love and striked chords within me such as architraves, buttresses, beam engines. I know very little of the language of music, but if I did it would inform my writing. I need to know more. Maybe that realisation is the start of it.
So I just keep writing and reading, trying new words, new forms and seeing what happens. I’m struggling to write what we have to though. I have to complete and Industry Analysis on my work experience placement, and I cannot do it. And it has to be in on Monday. Website too, that is completely stuck. The worst is a horrible creeping feeling that at the moment I just do not care. I don’t want to do it. I have stories in my head and until they are out, I can’t do anything else.
Sometimes it feels like I just want to crawl away and scream go away. Oh dear, this is getting dark. It’s really not that bad. I think I have been troubled by writers’ envy, after reading such a good story it made me cry, and it’s not finished, and I am in such fear for the characters. I wish I could have written it. I guess what I need to do is to try and write as good as. Keep writing.
Tuesday, 8 April 2008
Aunties and fairies
Sunday 23rd: Easter day it was. But it wasn’t too. Family situations being slightly odd at the moment, only mum and I were at home, and we had received our Easter eggs the day before. So it was a quiet day. We went to visit my relatives in Chester and I spent the day running round Auntie’s house chasing after, and being chased by my little cousin and having great fun. We let the adults have grown-up conversation, we talked about fairy wings and fairy cakes and swiped biscuits from the table to eat in secret corners. I love being an honorary Auntie.
Mountains
Sunday 6th: something is going wrong with my writing, I can’t just write anymore. It’s a struggle, and I realise I am sitting for hours tapping a few words, and then deleting nearly all of them. Writing more, hating them closing the computer down and going out for a walk, or washing dishes, or making a cup of tea. The other day the kettle boiled, and I didn’t even remember switching it on. But Pavlov would have wept to see me; it whistled and I got out my teabags.
Maybe I’m not meant to be a writer. The mountain of things I have to write are just appalling me, and as I know, I just can’t do them. I switch the computer on and stare at it. I just need to somehow break the barrier.
I had a small success in that I got the editing work I’d been putting off for ages done, that helped, and it felt very satisfying to send the files off. Just the small matter of now of worrying that my email will have let me down again and not sent the damn things. That’s another problem though, so many of them. Even this is hard to write. I can’t even remember properly what I did today. Other than forgetting that I was supposed to meet someone until it was too late and they sent me a very nice text which made me feel even worse. Things must get better.
Maybe I’m not meant to be a writer. The mountain of things I have to write are just appalling me, and as I know, I just can’t do them. I switch the computer on and stare at it. I just need to somehow break the barrier.
I had a small success in that I got the editing work I’d been putting off for ages done, that helped, and it felt very satisfying to send the files off. Just the small matter of now of worrying that my email will have let me down again and not sent the damn things. That’s another problem though, so many of them. Even this is hard to write. I can’t even remember properly what I did today. Other than forgetting that I was supposed to meet someone until it was too late and they sent me a very nice text which made me feel even worse. Things must get better.
Saturday, 5 April 2008
Food of the gods
Saturday 22nd: Finally, a good night’s sleep, and I didn’t wake up at 6am, no it was 7am instead, but an hour makes a big difference. And I didn’t have to get up for work! I’m slipping back into working habits already, after all this time.
It was nice to be at home, but I caught myself missing both Falmouth, and Oxford. Even in the week I’ve been there, I’ve found a routine and a place. I know there is still a place at home, and I always slip back into it, but it’s different.
It was a family day at home, my father was going off to play trains at the Severn Valley railway again, in the evening, so we had Easter a day early. Apparently, the ‘Easter Collie Dog’ had called instead, taking on the job from the bunny so dad says, and we had chocolate deliveries. Oh my. So much chocolate. My youngest sister calls it the food of the gods, and she's not far wrong. I could feel the pounds clambering back on to my hips just stroking the ever so shiny wrappers. I may be grown up, but I still have a delight in Easter eggs, especially when you find overspill - lovely thick sections of egg where the chocolate has run over, and it snaps with that rich chocolatey sound when you break into it….
They won’t last long.
Today was a total sugar rush, I’m amazed I didn’t explode in a spray of sweetness. Mum went mad in the kitchen and made truffles, crispy cakes, sponge cakes, trifle and more. That was just for breakfast. They had bought biscuits, cakes and mini eggs as well, just in case there weren’t enough calories around.
It was a fun day, despite eating far, far too much. And making poor mum turn over from the film she was watching so I could watch CSI. It wasn’t a great film, (the one where New York freezes, see, even the title isn't memorable) and I happily told her the ending anyway, plus I am the eldest child, back from her travels. She agreed in the end to my reasoning.
It was nice to be at home, but I caught myself missing both Falmouth, and Oxford. Even in the week I’ve been there, I’ve found a routine and a place. I know there is still a place at home, and I always slip back into it, but it’s different.
It was a family day at home, my father was going off to play trains at the Severn Valley railway again, in the evening, so we had Easter a day early. Apparently, the ‘Easter Collie Dog’ had called instead, taking on the job from the bunny so dad says, and we had chocolate deliveries. Oh my. So much chocolate. My youngest sister calls it the food of the gods, and she's not far wrong. I could feel the pounds clambering back on to my hips just stroking the ever so shiny wrappers. I may be grown up, but I still have a delight in Easter eggs, especially when you find overspill - lovely thick sections of egg where the chocolate has run over, and it snaps with that rich chocolatey sound when you break into it….
They won’t last long.
Today was a total sugar rush, I’m amazed I didn’t explode in a spray of sweetness. Mum went mad in the kitchen and made truffles, crispy cakes, sponge cakes, trifle and more. That was just for breakfast. They had bought biscuits, cakes and mini eggs as well, just in case there weren’t enough calories around.
It was a fun day, despite eating far, far too much. And making poor mum turn over from the film she was watching so I could watch CSI. It wasn’t a great film, (the one where New York freezes, see, even the title isn't memorable) and I happily told her the ending anyway, plus I am the eldest child, back from her travels. She agreed in the end to my reasoning.
Who?
Saturday 5th: the 5th of April already? Where has the year gone? This means there’s only a matter of weeks until hand-ins, oh lord. Someone said to me the other day when I asked how their work was going, that they had ‘mountains to climb’ I see exactly what they mean. I’m still somewhere in the valleys, of denial. I think I’m getting there, rock by rock, not to overstretch the metaphor.
I am so cold though, my hands are too stiff to write. That’s my excuse anyway… they really have turned blue and lilac though this time Still corpse-like. And my head hurts. But I can’t draw myself away from the laptop screen, or stay away from its light. Typing, typing, typing. In a draught from the catflap.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately as it stops the distraction, I can’t check my email today, something has gone wrong, and I am frustrated. Which must be a sign I’m addicted to it, it just won’t let me log on, and I’m almost crying at it. That’s not good.
Only managed one walk so far. I realised as soon as I stepped out of the front door that I’d made a bad choice of clothing: a flared skirt is not a sensible item for a windy day. So it was proved when the whole walk along into town I was clutching the folds of the material to save my embarrassment. Not an easy feat when you have a heavy bag on the way back. At least the top road was quiet. I tend to walk that way rather than along Arwenack Street.
The road above King Charles’ church has a fabulous view over the harbour, and across to St Anthony’s lighthouse, Flushing and St Mawes in the distance. There are many little paths down to the main streets to, winding steps and tracks. It’s quite fun at times to disappear off down them, and imagine you’ve surprised people by vanishing in front of their eyes. It inspired a story, that imagining in fact. But my character vanished for a more sinister reason off a crowded street. If it happened to me, maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about my work anymore. No, it’s not that bad, really.
Tonight is going to involve a tough decision: do I go out for a drink (I have no money) or do I go round to the warmth and comfort of my friend’s house to watch the new episode of Doctor Who? How do I explain my decision though to the first lot of friends? I’m sure they’ll understand, it’s a big event, it’s even on the cover of the Radio Times, in 4 different editions, wow!
I am so cold though, my hands are too stiff to write. That’s my excuse anyway… they really have turned blue and lilac though this time Still corpse-like. And my head hurts. But I can’t draw myself away from the laptop screen, or stay away from its light. Typing, typing, typing. In a draught from the catflap.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately as it stops the distraction, I can’t check my email today, something has gone wrong, and I am frustrated. Which must be a sign I’m addicted to it, it just won’t let me log on, and I’m almost crying at it. That’s not good.
Only managed one walk so far. I realised as soon as I stepped out of the front door that I’d made a bad choice of clothing: a flared skirt is not a sensible item for a windy day. So it was proved when the whole walk along into town I was clutching the folds of the material to save my embarrassment. Not an easy feat when you have a heavy bag on the way back. At least the top road was quiet. I tend to walk that way rather than along Arwenack Street.
The road above King Charles’ church has a fabulous view over the harbour, and across to St Anthony’s lighthouse, Flushing and St Mawes in the distance. There are many little paths down to the main streets to, winding steps and tracks. It’s quite fun at times to disappear off down them, and imagine you’ve surprised people by vanishing in front of their eyes. It inspired a story, that imagining in fact. But my character vanished for a more sinister reason off a crowded street. If it happened to me, maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about my work anymore. No, it’s not that bad, really.
Tonight is going to involve a tough decision: do I go out for a drink (I have no money) or do I go round to the warmth and comfort of my friend’s house to watch the new episode of Doctor Who? How do I explain my decision though to the first lot of friends? I’m sure they’ll understand, it’s a big event, it’s even on the cover of the Radio Times, in 4 different editions, wow!
Roads and egos
Friday 21st: I decided to go home. The home in Wirral. I have so many different addresses now. My car almost feels like one as well. I can fit all I need to live in it, the back seats would serve quite nicely as a bed. It hasn’t come to that though, yet.
I didn’t even have to be in work, but my infallible internal alarm system had me up and wide eyed at 6am. Great. I have never managed to do so much in a morning however, always the optimist. I had a full cup of coffee to start with, no halves. And no water.
Knowing I would not have the internet for, gasp, 3 whole days, I checked all my emails (more reviews, yes!) and bid it goodbye. Am I becoming too dependent? Maybe.
It was easy to pack the car up, I’m really getting good at this now. My favourite item to be packed was the little stash of sweets and chocolate I’d been saving for the whole of Lent. I was so impressed with myself for not eating a bag of jelly belly beans for over a month. Not one. They would soon find their resting place though. I had chocolate and other sweets too; Mars planets and a single Lindt truffle, heaven; and a pack of love hearts, some of my favourite sweets ever. Chalky, sweet goodness, mmmm. It constantly surprises me that I still have all my teeth and no fillings.
It was a lovely bright day, the nicest it had been so far in Oxford. Never mind culture shock, I’d had temperature shock. So I set out in high spirits across and up country. Almost immediately on leaving Oxford though, I was downcast. Traffic. The main A road out of the city was jammed. We crawled along for 20 minutes, only to see NO REASON at all for the delay, one minute we were waiting, the next moving. I hate that.
Then the motorway was blocked, for no discernable reason, huge, depressing queues, then clear roads. Whenever that happens I wonder if it really is that someone has braked. Quite possibly. If so, that someone was braking on every single road I drove on. The M40, the M42, the M5, the M6, Stafford service station… yes, even the service station had a traffic jam. I chuckled to myself eventually at the drivers who hadn’t realised that you could get all you needed from the petrol station, which was not jammed. Which I did, and felt not at all smug.
Then the A550 which I escaped onto from the M6 clogged up, and the M53, even the B road into Wirral
I didn’t even have to be in work, but my infallible internal alarm system had me up and wide eyed at 6am. Great. I have never managed to do so much in a morning however, always the optimist. I had a full cup of coffee to start with, no halves. And no water.
Knowing I would not have the internet for, gasp, 3 whole days, I checked all my emails (more reviews, yes!) and bid it goodbye. Am I becoming too dependent? Maybe.
It was easy to pack the car up, I’m really getting good at this now. My favourite item to be packed was the little stash of sweets and chocolate I’d been saving for the whole of Lent. I was so impressed with myself for not eating a bag of jelly belly beans for over a month. Not one. They would soon find their resting place though. I had chocolate and other sweets too; Mars planets and a single Lindt truffle, heaven; and a pack of love hearts, some of my favourite sweets ever. Chalky, sweet goodness, mmmm. It constantly surprises me that I still have all my teeth and no fillings.
It was a lovely bright day, the nicest it had been so far in Oxford. Never mind culture shock, I’d had temperature shock. So I set out in high spirits across and up country. Almost immediately on leaving Oxford though, I was downcast. Traffic. The main A road out of the city was jammed. We crawled along for 20 minutes, only to see NO REASON at all for the delay, one minute we were waiting, the next moving. I hate that.
Then the motorway was blocked, for no discernable reason, huge, depressing queues, then clear roads. Whenever that happens I wonder if it really is that someone has braked. Quite possibly. If so, that someone was braking on every single road I drove on. The M40, the M42, the M5, the M6, Stafford service station… yes, even the service station had a traffic jam. I chuckled to myself eventually at the drivers who hadn’t realised that you could get all you needed from the petrol station, which was not jammed. Which I did, and felt not at all smug.
Then the A550 which I escaped onto from the M6 clogged up, and the M53, even the B road into Wirral
Friday, 4 April 2008
Sweets
Friday 4th: Loads of writing today, sometimes it’s like that. I slept so badly (this is becoming a refrain) and then woke up at an ungodly hour, unable to go back to sleep. Falmouth was drowning in mist first thing, very strange to look out and not see the harbour at all, or even the railway line.
So I got up and made the best of being awake, by eating. I think I wake up because I’m hungry, and my stomach is craving toast, sugary cereal and coffee. I had to disappoint it with plain weetabix though. It’s cheap.
It ended up that I stayed in the kitchen the whole morning, still in my pyjamas, disgraceful. Then I went and set up in bed trying to keep warm and wrote some more vagaries in my notebook. I got on a streak though, and filled a few pages, very satisfying.
It’s much colder today, how can that be? Yesterday summer was not far, today winter has only just gone. I haven’t been able to get warm all day. I guess sitting in front of a laptop or a notebook doesn’t do your circulation much good. Maybe that’s why my fingers go dead-looking so easily.
After a while I headed to Tescos to stop my eyes from seizing up. Unfortunately, I was struck by a need for sugar, and was pulled towards the deli nearby where they sell the best liquorice allsorts ever, RJ’s allsorts, luscious. All different colours, and the colours even taste differently, so pink does taste of strawberry. The whole bag, I’m ashamed to say, is now gone. So I took another long walk, a very long walk winding round the castle and headland, then along the front.
Couldn’t stay away from the laptop for long though, it’s becoming an addiction in itself. I did manage though to set up a few things online I’ve mean to for ages, and yes, I posted another chapter of my story. That was some of the draw for the laptop, I needed my fix of reviews. And I’m still sitting here now, writing, checking, reading. I really, really need to go to bed before I start falling over. Just a few sentences more…
So I got up and made the best of being awake, by eating. I think I wake up because I’m hungry, and my stomach is craving toast, sugary cereal and coffee. I had to disappoint it with plain weetabix though. It’s cheap.
It ended up that I stayed in the kitchen the whole morning, still in my pyjamas, disgraceful. Then I went and set up in bed trying to keep warm and wrote some more vagaries in my notebook. I got on a streak though, and filled a few pages, very satisfying.
It’s much colder today, how can that be? Yesterday summer was not far, today winter has only just gone. I haven’t been able to get warm all day. I guess sitting in front of a laptop or a notebook doesn’t do your circulation much good. Maybe that’s why my fingers go dead-looking so easily.
After a while I headed to Tescos to stop my eyes from seizing up. Unfortunately, I was struck by a need for sugar, and was pulled towards the deli nearby where they sell the best liquorice allsorts ever, RJ’s allsorts, luscious. All different colours, and the colours even taste differently, so pink does taste of strawberry. The whole bag, I’m ashamed to say, is now gone. So I took another long walk, a very long walk winding round the castle and headland, then along the front.
Couldn’t stay away from the laptop for long though, it’s becoming an addiction in itself. I did manage though to set up a few things online I’ve mean to for ages, and yes, I posted another chapter of my story. That was some of the draw for the laptop, I needed my fix of reviews. And I’m still sitting here now, writing, checking, reading. I really, really need to go to bed before I start falling over. Just a few sentences more…
Spring sadness
Thursday 3rd: Another couple of small achievements. At the very least I sent some text messages and emails I’d been meaning to for ages. I mean to do many things, it just takes time. Most satisfyingly, I overcame my block with bloc online and did my editing for that, and got the articles up live. We all met up in the base room at Tremough, the bloc team and I think because we were all there, got a lot done.
Most of us did anyway. Someone I am having great difficulty tolerating found it difficult to do what we were there to do. I’m ashamed of myself, having recently had people be very kind towards me having a difficult time, but they bring out (and I know that’s blaming them again) a very bitchy streak in me, and everything they said and did yesterday afternoon grated on me, or made me pull faces unseen. One of the problems I think of a fairly intimate course, you have to get on with people as much as you can, or at least pretend to. Sometimes that’s nearly impossible. In the end I said something to them, and ignored the cues that were for me to ask what was wrong. I couldn’t face it. I’m not a nice person at times.
So I felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day really, and even walking down the old lane past rich scatterings of primroses didn’t help. It was such a beautiful day; warm, bright, a soft breeze and flowers everywhere. And the grass has been cut all around as well. As soon as I smell cut grass, Spring awakens inside me. It’s one of the nicest smells in the world. That and chocolate. I felt in need again of sugar, and ate a fudge bar and a bag of jelly sweets. I can’t seem to stop myself buying them, then I feel so guilty afterwards. The weight will pile back, and I’ll have to give up my new clothes, awful.
Another walk then, round the castle once more, but down right along the coast this time. Stopping off on the way at Castle Beach to take a few photos. I’d decided it was time to create my profile on my fan fiction site, so I took a photo of my notebook by the sea, in an attempt to seem interesting and different, without showing my face. I did try to take a photo of my shadow, but it just looked creepy and weird. Fun though.
In the evening I dragged myself away from my laptop again, not difficult, and went out to Chris’s house in Penryn for a select pizza party. Somehow though I wasn’t feeling sociable, so left early, and then ended up staying awake freezing until 2am writing, and listening to my most mournful CDs. Mybe I’ll sleep late though.
Most of us did anyway. Someone I am having great difficulty tolerating found it difficult to do what we were there to do. I’m ashamed of myself, having recently had people be very kind towards me having a difficult time, but they bring out (and I know that’s blaming them again) a very bitchy streak in me, and everything they said and did yesterday afternoon grated on me, or made me pull faces unseen. One of the problems I think of a fairly intimate course, you have to get on with people as much as you can, or at least pretend to. Sometimes that’s nearly impossible. In the end I said something to them, and ignored the cues that were for me to ask what was wrong. I couldn’t face it. I’m not a nice person at times.
So I felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day really, and even walking down the old lane past rich scatterings of primroses didn’t help. It was such a beautiful day; warm, bright, a soft breeze and flowers everywhere. And the grass has been cut all around as well. As soon as I smell cut grass, Spring awakens inside me. It’s one of the nicest smells in the world. That and chocolate. I felt in need again of sugar, and ate a fudge bar and a bag of jelly sweets. I can’t seem to stop myself buying them, then I feel so guilty afterwards. The weight will pile back, and I’ll have to give up my new clothes, awful.
Another walk then, round the castle once more, but down right along the coast this time. Stopping off on the way at Castle Beach to take a few photos. I’d decided it was time to create my profile on my fan fiction site, so I took a photo of my notebook by the sea, in an attempt to seem interesting and different, without showing my face. I did try to take a photo of my shadow, but it just looked creepy and weird. Fun though.
In the evening I dragged myself away from my laptop again, not difficult, and went out to Chris’s house in Penryn for a select pizza party. Somehow though I wasn’t feeling sociable, so left early, and then ended up staying awake freezing until 2am writing, and listening to my most mournful CDs. Mybe I’ll sleep late though.
Possession
Thursday 20th: A day of cold, grey rain, but the last day of my first week, Good Friday tomorrow of course. I discussed plans with my temporary colleagues, only they don’t make me feel like that. The only discordant note has been with one person whose chair I inadvertently sat on my first day when she wasn’t in. I noted this morning that she has stuck a post-it note with her name on the back of it, and doesn’t speak to me unless I speak to her. Oh well, it doesn’t bother me now like it might have done in past years.
I had a very nice day; checking and exercising my inner pedant in the morning, spending plenty of time online researching places to visit from the lists in the back of Shire books, to make sure they still existed. My eyes were beginning to feel a little bit fuzzy after a while though. In the afternoon, I enjoyed myself helping to choose pictures for a book on the traditional shop in Britain. So many gorgeous images that the author himself had taken. This was something I hadn’t entirely realised before, that authors are usually expected to provide their own pictures of their subject, other than in exceptional circumstances. That’s something I would find challenging.
There were well over 100 images, and we looked through each one, surveying, judging, deciding, and putting little pencil marks against their thumbnails on paper. Finally we had our choices and I was really pleased to feel that I’d made a small contribution to getting a book into print.
I also had a go at editing some back cover blurbs, something I prided myself on being quite good at, getting a piece of work to a strict number of words without losing the meaning. This was to fit them onto the newly designed book covers. It was very satisfying to see them up on the InDesign spreads.
Most of the staff were travelling to places after work, I was still unsure where I was going to spend Easter weekend, so put off my trip to wherever until tomorrow. So Thursday evening, I found myself meeting with friends of my host family, a lovely husband and wife, who lead a bible study group in the upstairs office of the house.
After staying up pretty late posting up another chapter of my epic fan fiction story, I was in bed late, regretfully, knowing there was probably no escaping my 6am start.
I had a very nice day; checking and exercising my inner pedant in the morning, spending plenty of time online researching places to visit from the lists in the back of Shire books, to make sure they still existed. My eyes were beginning to feel a little bit fuzzy after a while though. In the afternoon, I enjoyed myself helping to choose pictures for a book on the traditional shop in Britain. So many gorgeous images that the author himself had taken. This was something I hadn’t entirely realised before, that authors are usually expected to provide their own pictures of their subject, other than in exceptional circumstances. That’s something I would find challenging.
There were well over 100 images, and we looked through each one, surveying, judging, deciding, and putting little pencil marks against their thumbnails on paper. Finally we had our choices and I was really pleased to feel that I’d made a small contribution to getting a book into print.
I also had a go at editing some back cover blurbs, something I prided myself on being quite good at, getting a piece of work to a strict number of words without losing the meaning. This was to fit them onto the newly designed book covers. It was very satisfying to see them up on the InDesign spreads.
Most of the staff were travelling to places after work, I was still unsure where I was going to spend Easter weekend, so put off my trip to wherever until tomorrow. So Thursday evening, I found myself meeting with friends of my host family, a lovely husband and wife, who lead a bible study group in the upstairs office of the house.
After staying up pretty late posting up another chapter of my epic fan fiction story, I was in bed late, regretfully, knowing there was probably no escaping my 6am start.
Thursday, 3 April 2008
Lists and sugar
Wednesday 2nd: What have I achieved today? I wrote myself a list last night, a short one, having learned that long and well-intentioned ‘to do’ lists never work, and just get put away with horror. So, three things on the list. One I did manage to do, I wrote my piece, finally for bloc. Satisfying, and bloody hard work. I discovered I’d not made as many notes as I needed, so was cursing myself and extrapolating, and making much use of the internet. NOT wikipedia though. Nothing wrong with the site, it’s a good start point for information, but maybe not infallibly reliable.
Anyway. I wrote the piece, and rewarded myself with another walk along the front and round Pendennis. It was much colder, and my fingers chilled to blue and purple again, which has developed into an unpleasant recurrence. But Spring flowers were everywhere, violets, periwinkles and others I wish I knew the names of. Another thing to do. The little wooded paths were almost fairyland with blackthorn blossoms overhead and grassy banks shimmering green. The sea was the colour of blue steel and I sat on a turf bank to watch it for a little while.
I’ve almost completed the second thing to do, which is writing this, but one thing remains. Which shouldn’t be difficult, but is. A letter to the family of my pupil to explain why I haven’t been in touch for the last couple of weeks. All my fault, and one of those stupid things I do: instead of just calling round or ringing before I went to Oxford to re-arrange the lessons, I didn’t, I put it off, and on the day I was due to go for the lesson, from Oxford I left a message. Then didn’t call back again. Now I’m too embarrassed to, so a letter seems the only option. Except it’s very difficult to write. I need to write a lot of letters, the worst one that I keep avoiding is to my friend who I’ve lost touch with, in embarrassment for forgetting her little girls’ birthdays. I have a lot of embarrassment I think.
So that’s not done. I took back some clothes to the shops, and felt a bit better for returning a little credit to my over-used credit card. A dangerous thing to own. I really shouldn’t keep it in my purse. Town was nice, though today as sometimes, I avoided the main streets, and explored the lanes that twist and turn above and beyond the shops. There’s something intriguing and fascinating about walking up a lane or side street and vanishing. Taking an unexpected turning.
Then I had lunch with my friends, Cornish pasties and a gingerbread bunny, I threw calorie caution to the winds, as apparently, according to Jo Wylie on Radio 1 (an infallible source of course) today is Fat Wednesday, when you are expected to eat a lot of calories and put weight on. So for good measure I ate a pink sugar mouse as well. I kept its string tail in my pocket, perhaps I’ll collect them. The recklessness didn’t last though, and I stuck to a bowl of soup for tea, and took another walk. Then ate 3 spoonfuls of sugar. Oh dear.
Anyway. I wrote the piece, and rewarded myself with another walk along the front and round Pendennis. It was much colder, and my fingers chilled to blue and purple again, which has developed into an unpleasant recurrence. But Spring flowers were everywhere, violets, periwinkles and others I wish I knew the names of. Another thing to do. The little wooded paths were almost fairyland with blackthorn blossoms overhead and grassy banks shimmering green. The sea was the colour of blue steel and I sat on a turf bank to watch it for a little while.
I’ve almost completed the second thing to do, which is writing this, but one thing remains. Which shouldn’t be difficult, but is. A letter to the family of my pupil to explain why I haven’t been in touch for the last couple of weeks. All my fault, and one of those stupid things I do: instead of just calling round or ringing before I went to Oxford to re-arrange the lessons, I didn’t, I put it off, and on the day I was due to go for the lesson, from Oxford I left a message. Then didn’t call back again. Now I’m too embarrassed to, so a letter seems the only option. Except it’s very difficult to write. I need to write a lot of letters, the worst one that I keep avoiding is to my friend who I’ve lost touch with, in embarrassment for forgetting her little girls’ birthdays. I have a lot of embarrassment I think.
So that’s not done. I took back some clothes to the shops, and felt a bit better for returning a little credit to my over-used credit card. A dangerous thing to own. I really shouldn’t keep it in my purse. Town was nice, though today as sometimes, I avoided the main streets, and explored the lanes that twist and turn above and beyond the shops. There’s something intriguing and fascinating about walking up a lane or side street and vanishing. Taking an unexpected turning.
Then I had lunch with my friends, Cornish pasties and a gingerbread bunny, I threw calorie caution to the winds, as apparently, according to Jo Wylie on Radio 1 (an infallible source of course) today is Fat Wednesday, when you are expected to eat a lot of calories and put weight on. So for good measure I ate a pink sugar mouse as well. I kept its string tail in my pocket, perhaps I’ll collect them. The recklessness didn’t last though, and I stuck to a bowl of soup for tea, and took another walk. Then ate 3 spoonfuls of sugar. Oh dear.
Everything new is old
Wednesday 19th: 6am waking. Yes, this is becoming a habit. Damn. And it was a very cold morning. Bet Falmouth is warm and sunny… I explored the flat a little more last night. I’ve never lived in a basement before, and it was different to how I had imagined. For a start, it wasn’t as dark as I’d worried about. I was a little below ground level, but the light came through, there was just a measure of twilight. It was a little weird looking up to see the driveway and street.
One thing the family who own it asked me was if it was too big! Definitely not. After just having a room in Falmouth, it was a luxury to be able to walk from room to room, and wander about through doors. I think they understood when I told them this. Very true though. Stairs too. There was an office level above me, and at night, feeling slightly naughty, I slipped upstairs to peep.
The house is an old house, close to Keble college in a road filled with old houses, which delighted my heart. Something I fell in love with in Oxford - the extravagance of old architecture, which is still standing. Not like Birkenhead where streets of dignified Victorian houses have been felled. This house had been converted in the 1930s into two flats, a lady who was a Don at one of the colleges had lived there, to a great age. And somehow, she had never quite left. The rooms had old furniture in them, and had a breath of times past, faded gold brocade on armchairs, sage green standard lamps, dark wood side tables. But not unpleasant. There was something strange about the upper bathroom though, which had the luxury of a bath and the invitation to use it. Something about the noises of the house breathing maybe, and the tick of the water meter. It made me think of ghost stories and memories. But I wasn’t scared any of the time I was there, it was a good house.
I felt very welcomed, and by this day, my third day, I felt a part of it. The cupboards had my food in, I knew where to buy milk, and I had chosen a chair to sit in whilst working or watching TV. In the office, I had a peg to hang my jacket on, and a parking space I had used for the third time. People’s names had sunk in and I could begin to feel more confident that I knew what I was doing.
I had a slightly strange encounter in the office with the lady who worked on reception and admin. She gave me a guided tour, which I’d already had, and gave me lots of sheets of paper, and left me for a long time sitting rather unsure of myself while she went to fix a telephone. I found it quite disconcerting talking to her as there were very long pauses between sentences, and just as I was feeling maybe it was a cue for me to say something, she would continue. Subsequently, I made ridiculous detours through rooms to avoid seeing her, as when I did speak to her, it felt like I was about to become trapped in a strange void. Possibly I imagine too much about people.
One thing the family who own it asked me was if it was too big! Definitely not. After just having a room in Falmouth, it was a luxury to be able to walk from room to room, and wander about through doors. I think they understood when I told them this. Very true though. Stairs too. There was an office level above me, and at night, feeling slightly naughty, I slipped upstairs to peep.
The house is an old house, close to Keble college in a road filled with old houses, which delighted my heart. Something I fell in love with in Oxford - the extravagance of old architecture, which is still standing. Not like Birkenhead where streets of dignified Victorian houses have been felled. This house had been converted in the 1930s into two flats, a lady who was a Don at one of the colleges had lived there, to a great age. And somehow, she had never quite left. The rooms had old furniture in them, and had a breath of times past, faded gold brocade on armchairs, sage green standard lamps, dark wood side tables. But not unpleasant. There was something strange about the upper bathroom though, which had the luxury of a bath and the invitation to use it. Something about the noises of the house breathing maybe, and the tick of the water meter. It made me think of ghost stories and memories. But I wasn’t scared any of the time I was there, it was a good house.
I felt very welcomed, and by this day, my third day, I felt a part of it. The cupboards had my food in, I knew where to buy milk, and I had chosen a chair to sit in whilst working or watching TV. In the office, I had a peg to hang my jacket on, and a parking space I had used for the third time. People’s names had sunk in and I could begin to feel more confident that I knew what I was doing.
I had a slightly strange encounter in the office with the lady who worked on reception and admin. She gave me a guided tour, which I’d already had, and gave me lots of sheets of paper, and left me for a long time sitting rather unsure of myself while she went to fix a telephone. I found it quite disconcerting talking to her as there were very long pauses between sentences, and just as I was feeling maybe it was a cue for me to say something, she would continue. Subsequently, I made ridiculous detours through rooms to avoid seeing her, as when I did speak to her, it felt like I was about to become trapped in a strange void. Possibly I imagine too much about people.
Tuesday, 1 April 2008
Not the new girl
Tuesday 18th: second day. 6am awake. Again. Oh well, looks like it’s going to be that way. I was much more confident. I drove the route with very little hesitation, remembering which lanes I needed to be in, feeling exasperated at the long traffic light changes like I’d been doing it for years. It’s strange how quickly I’d adapted and become the person who drives to work through the centre of Oxford. And arriving in the office was different, I knew people now to say ‘hello’ to them, and to ask if they’d had a good evening, I received the same also. I knew how to power up the Mac I’d been using, and I even had a little pile of work to start off with straight away.
The day went well. The day before, very kindly, I’d been treated to lunch, today I’d brought sandwiches, and sat with my new colleagues to eat them. I knew I was only there temporarily, but it felt comfortable and we got on well. Finding share interests in pets and sports, important things for getting to know people. I think I’m good at listening to people and that works well in a situation such as I was in.
My only struggle in the day was having to have lunch at a set time; I’ve got far too used to eating when I choose, so my stomach was literally growling. I drank gallons of water.
I tried out some more editing and proof-reading, and felt a great burden of responsibility in doing so: what I was checking would end up in an actual, printed book, and that kind of scared me. I had felt fairly confident at first, but then after finding mistakes on second and third readings through a proof I realised how painstaking it really is.
I got a chance to, briefly, to look through the archives, which was brilliant. So many different subjects. I love knowledge, and a shelf of books filled with intriguing information was hard to resist. I really would have been more than happy to have spent the whole two weeks reading the back catalogue. That was not to be though. I finished the day feeling I’d done a good day’s work and that was very satisfying.
Evening was exploring. Weather was cold, far colder than in Falmouth, and once again, I was laughably underdressed. No longer owning a coat, I only had a thin black cardigan over my dress, but set out anyway to find the parks. My direction triumphed, and I found the park at the back of Keble college. It was beautiful, full of flowers: daffodils; bluebells; snowdrops and a strange blood-red bush of flowers that I’ve never seen before. I walked on and enjoyed the peace.
There had been rain, a lot of rain the last week before I arrived and the evidence was in the drowned field by the river. There was something quite unsettling about it; trees surrounded by swirling water, rippling waves lapping at the grass. Something dream-like and unreal about it. I hung over a bridge for a while, mesmerised by the water. And then walked on again. Very cold, my fingers turned blue and white, and then gradually completely numb. Which was entirely my fault; I had brought gloves, but vanity overcame practicality - the colour of them didn’t match my dress. So I hurried back to the flat. Enchanted and frozen.
The day went well. The day before, very kindly, I’d been treated to lunch, today I’d brought sandwiches, and sat with my new colleagues to eat them. I knew I was only there temporarily, but it felt comfortable and we got on well. Finding share interests in pets and sports, important things for getting to know people. I think I’m good at listening to people and that works well in a situation such as I was in.
My only struggle in the day was having to have lunch at a set time; I’ve got far too used to eating when I choose, so my stomach was literally growling. I drank gallons of water.
I tried out some more editing and proof-reading, and felt a great burden of responsibility in doing so: what I was checking would end up in an actual, printed book, and that kind of scared me. I had felt fairly confident at first, but then after finding mistakes on second and third readings through a proof I realised how painstaking it really is.
I got a chance to, briefly, to look through the archives, which was brilliant. So many different subjects. I love knowledge, and a shelf of books filled with intriguing information was hard to resist. I really would have been more than happy to have spent the whole two weeks reading the back catalogue. That was not to be though. I finished the day feeling I’d done a good day’s work and that was very satisfying.
Evening was exploring. Weather was cold, far colder than in Falmouth, and once again, I was laughably underdressed. No longer owning a coat, I only had a thin black cardigan over my dress, but set out anyway to find the parks. My direction triumphed, and I found the park at the back of Keble college. It was beautiful, full of flowers: daffodils; bluebells; snowdrops and a strange blood-red bush of flowers that I’ve never seen before. I walked on and enjoyed the peace.
There had been rain, a lot of rain the last week before I arrived and the evidence was in the drowned field by the river. There was something quite unsettling about it; trees surrounded by swirling water, rippling waves lapping at the grass. Something dream-like and unreal about it. I hung over a bridge for a while, mesmerised by the water. And then walked on again. Very cold, my fingers turned blue and white, and then gradually completely numb. Which was entirely my fault; I had brought gloves, but vanity overcame practicality - the colour of them didn’t match my dress. So I hurried back to the flat. Enchanted and frozen.
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