An experi'ent

Which has already proved not to work - I wanted to see if I could paste the letter ' ' fro' the character 'ap - so that I could write 'y blog, but I can't, so will have to be satisfied with an 'less text - and substitute apostrophes.... the laptop is going in for a service to'orrow - which fills 'e with dread since last ti'e it was serviced 'y store of saved e'ails was re'oved fro' the hard drive.  I've just discovered I can do background colour on 'y text - that's really interesting.  I often think that the blog doesn't look as attractive as it could, due to the failure to upload photos etc.  But perhaps the coloured background could give it a certain je ne sais quoi.

I could use the coloured background to denote chance of subject perhaps?  Very synaesthetic... and perhaps too hard to read.  We shall see.

Now - here's the change of subject - I have just been to hospital in Canterbury - which necessitated two trains and 4 taxis, due to #y weakened state - a cost of about £25 - a nuisance not having the car.  It is, after a brief renaissance, off the road again.  I had hoped they would do a biopsy today - but they haven't.  Instead I #et a nice Nigerian?Ghanaian consultant called Ike - who ordered a hysteroscopy soon, i.e. within 2 weeks, which would enable the to do a biopsy and a s#ear test and everything else.  That's cheering - #eans they probably don't think it's cancer.  The bad news is I'll probably have to have a general anaesthetic before Christ#as.  Hope it won't knock #e out too #uch. 

I'# afraid this entry is co#ing under the general wittering category of blog - but I a# pleased about the colour thing - I could use different colours for different topics - then readers could skip fro# the bits that interest the# and avoid the boring bits.  So I could use this colour for "general wittering"

Politics and current events?  Not very legible - perhaps this one would be better... OK - Politics

Literature - including #y own efforts such as The Ro#antic Fe#inist - plus dealing with agents etc.

Gossip - celebrity etc?

Do I write about anything else?  Oh yes -

Other blogs!

Health - see above...

Or is it just plain stupid?  Have to see how it looks when I post it.,    Interesting how little one does actually use the letter # - perhaps that's why it scores relatively high in Scrabble.

Anniversary

We always celebrate the anniversary of our meeting - it is a nice thing to do.  But over the last few years it has not been celebrated, we don't have enough money to go out etc.  This year however, M has given me two nice presents... and according to Finn one was expensive.  I bought him two very boring little pressies.  I was looking forward to going out though.... anyway, he has cried off the dinner - and I am really disappointed.   I think I would rather have just a dinner then have presents - it's extra money and stuff we don't need.  Now, because I am tired and hungry, I feel a bit cheated so rather longing to eat something nice.  But we are having fish and chips instead.  Himself has gone off to snooze.   I hope I feel better after supper.  At the moment I just feel rather miserable.  I have been finding these festivities difficult since 2010 - I think part of the problem with our relationship was our lack of going out and having fun.  Now when we go out it feels like an enforced jollity - but we need to talk to each other.  I really enjoyed just having a drink on the terrace at the Bellvue a couple of weeks ago - doing something nice together, spontaneously.  This never happens, or almost never. 

Wish I didn't feel so gloomy about this.  It's that horrible feeling - I expect I'd have it about anyone I'd been with for 20 years - probably!

Low-key weekend

I woke up at 8.00 on Saturday morning: the radiators weren't working; the hot water wasn't working either.  Plumbers don't usually work on Saturdays - except for ludicrous amounts of money.  So I left a message for one, and concentrated on other things. 

We had a wonderful "family hour" cleaning out the kitchen - both the boys worked hard and things looked a lot better, although Mark worked hardest.    On Saturday night we had a nice supper together, and had a fire, and it wasn't too cold - so didn't matter so much about the heating.

On Sunday Mark Finn and I went to Canterbury - we had lunch at the Gaol Cafe, which is nice, v. good value. Finn was really funny: he didn't know what to eat, so I suggested he had chicken with couscous - it came covered with a pile of rocket and parmesan... the chicken was dressed with a caesar salad dressing and some spiced chutney - but he really liked it - said it was one of the best things he'd ever had.  He even ate some rocket - wonderful.   Then we did a bit of light shopping - and came home again.  Somehow it was very enjoyable.  Another fire, some pasta and woke up on Monday morning, refreshed and ready to meet the plumber!  He came, charged £204 to buy and replace a fan - so our heating is on again.    The car is going to cost a further £427 for the replacement of the head gasket... but we won't get it back until next Wednesday - so, more walking and taxiing etc.

Now that the new prospective agent has the MS, I am dreading seeing anything from her in the letter box - in case it's the rejection.... but I expect she'll have some suggestions - so I'll have something to work on.

Defamation

Last night I couldn't sleep, because now that an agent has got interested in The Romantic Feminist my mind has leapt forward to the next stage.  Even if she doesn't take me on, this is going to be an issue that will arise.

When she wrote her memoir, Maggie had to get the permission of everyone she mentioned in it to be included.  I've already made changes at the request of Polly and J - the next major obstacle would be my ex-husband, the other J - I have made him very recognisable... now I need to totally re-write him, and perhaps the circumstances of our relationship.  I thought I might make him Irish - from Belfast?  Or not.  Perhaps remove all the Catholic stuff - and maybe remove Tom - the character based on his friend P - he only appears briefly, and I've already edited my comments... he could be cut.   Maybe make Philip a lawyer...  And Doug - part of me thinks K is dead - but I can't be sure.  I Googled him and there doesn't seem to be much trace of him.  Rosey and Russell are in there, and my father, and all the C's - well "Jack" and "Beata" - both of whom tragically are ailing, and might even die before it gets published.  I've effectively got J's permission - but is there something he would have to sign - a release of some kind?

It's a bit of nightmare - change Ed's name - to make it less Ted like - and Paddy?  no, I don't think anyone - er, no, that's not true - well, turn "Niall" into two different people.

I must deal with the problems - whether she takes me on or not.  A nice defamation case, by one of the characters would wipe out any profits and a lot of my credibility.... 

Heart in mouth time...

I've spent the last two days furiously re-editing The Romantic Feminist - and today I sent it off to the agent who asked to see all of it.   It is somewhat nerve-wracking - one feels that somehow the first 3-4 chapters must be infinitely better than the rest - and this will be immediately discovered by the agent.  I have anxiety about the strength of (or is that lack of?) plot.  I can do plots - no probs, and there's a bit of a reveal - but it's not exactly about plot... as indeed great chunks of life aren't - narrative isn't just about plot, observation, comprehension, humour can all contribute to it.

A local(ish) writer, Maggie Harris was talking about her memoir last night at the club - she is a poet, and included some rather poetic passages in the text, all of which were deleted by the publishers.   They said they didn't further the narrative.  Surely atmosphere, the creation of images, enriches the narrative.  I wonder which publishers it was - that sounds such a very "creative writing course" objection to her work.  One can't say without seeing the text and what was deleted, but it does remind me of those people who bellow "Show, don't tell!" at one and behave as if there were only one kind of novel: a straight narrative with a tight plot... and not much else.  Rather like all those well-meaning people on the Authonomy website who gave critique based on what?  A creative writing course?  The people I wanted to hear from were people who were really writing all the time - not people who just churned out the criticisms and produced rather pedestrian work.  But it's horses for courses - plenty more people want to read the kind of novel that they wanted to write.  I fear I may have produced a book which may appeal to a smaller audience, but I also think that although the book may seem a bit high-falutin' in places, probably flatters the intelligence of the book group readers.  I am going on the basis of my book group... I know Muriel wouldn't like it (too much sex) and some of the others would find Lucy a bit wild, I think the Ann(e)s would like it, and Liz and Mary... with reservations.  It would provide a good topic for argument... so a good thing.

Editing the book in 2 days flat was a bit of a shocker - I found a couple of places where I'd repeated myself, thought Ch11 (or was it 10) really needed work - and thought that perhaps there were too many literary references.... oh dear. Also, now that I've got rid of the 1st person, I'm left with an accidental narrator and I'm not sure what to do.  I put some of the 1st person stuff into Lucy's "journal".  Quite a useful device... but the effect I had originally wanted, of the book being L's memories to some extent has gone...

What will the agent think?  Watch this space.... just hope she understands that I am willing to take instruction if she has any ideas on changes.

The Romantic Feminist again

Well - this morning there was a rather odd looking email in my inbox - in the title it said Contains sexual material... but it was from the last agent I sent TRF to.  And, mirabile dictu, she wants to see the rest of it.  I felt absolutely sick - how strange.  I am delighted of course, this is the first who wants to see the whole work and it doesn't mean she's going to take it on.  The reason I am sick is that I am part way through converting it from a partially 1st person narrative, to a completely 3rd person narrative.  And I know agents don't like to feel that they have been misled by authors.  So the plan is to get it sorted out tonight/tomorrow and get it to her tomorrow afternoon - or Friday.  Which is why this is a short entry.

On with the editing!

Shocks!

Yes, things are getting better, but there has been a setback on the health front.  I had a scan on Friday and saw a doctor afterwards, a new South African doctor I've never seen before.  He said there were 3 worrying things about my scan, I needed an immediate blood test to check my hormone levels, and he would get me a hospital appointment in 2 weeks "because of my age."

In the UK if there is a potential for cancer you get a hospital appointment in 2 weeks.  This is what they are worried about.  Officially I am completely blase about cancer - no one in my family has died of it (except my grandmother, when she was 91).  So I am enjoying the drama - although I am pretty sure it will be all right.  However, what is upsetting is how calm Mark was about it all.  I didn't get an arm around the shoulder or anything.  I was told I was always so brave.   I wonder if it is courage, or lack of imagination, or an uncanny ability to stick my head in the sand and ignore what is happening around me?  Actually, what is really happening is that I am getting on with things and believing nothing bad is happening.  Part of me wonders whether I have generated these symptoms myself to get a bit of sympathy.   It's all a bit useless really - when I do get sympathy I just feel embarassed.  Then later I feel cross and unhappy.

Why didn't Mark respond until I started crying - does he not have any independent feelings about me, but only takes his cue from me?  I was really unhappy on Friday night because he didn't seem to realise I might need a bit of special care because of the shock I'd had.   Yes, yes, I'm sure it's not cancer - but that doesn't mean I want him to ignore me.  I hate having to make a fuss to get attention.  Finn was heroic and gave me lots of spontaneous hugs - Ned did not, but showed some concern (like Mark, he's probably worrying about what will happen if I die).  Once I'd made a fuss (sobbing in bed when M was trying to sleep - how inconsiderate!) he began to amend his behaviour.   We even had quite a nice time on the weekend. 

On Sunday we went for a very quick drink at the Bellvue.  This is a pub which has a huge terrace overlooking Pegwell Bay.  It was incredibly warm about 15 degrees? - and windless, but rather hazy.  The tide was out, there was a slight, seaweedy smell and occasional bird calls, mostly oyster catchers, but there was a solitary curlew which we heard calling a couple of times. It was extraordinary for the end of November.  We have still had no frost here, and the leaves are still on the trees - lovely yellow and gold.  So beautiful.  So much for the very cold weather they keep promising.  Apparently like last year it will come in early November.

I spoke to A today - he has not yet gone to Java - he is sorting out his paperwork... oh dear.  He was meant to be coming for a drink tonight.  He didn't.  Mark is at a reception at St. Paul's Cathedral... very high powered, I hope he enjoys it.

Better? The return of the car?

I think - nervously - I may say that I am now better.  I am only slightly giddy, our financial payment is in the bank, I haven't had any more gynaecological horror since Tuesday (scan tomorrow), a man is coming to look at the car tomorrow and I've finally had an answer to an email from someone I thought was going to ignore it.  And I made a stunning chili con carne for supper - which every one of them praised.

To celebrate I have sent flowers to a sorrowful friend and signed up to Love Film and begun to think about Christmas....

It may be that we will shortly have the car back - this week I have had another grocery delivery - it's interesting - when you see how much your bill is when you buy on line you tend to whip things out of your basket - something you can't do at the supermarket - this has lead to some catastrophic under-buying - with the result that we are lacking one of our staple foods - ham!  On Monday I went to the doctor, which doesn't have the decency to be on a bus route - and is the opposite side of town (having moved from a building 5 minutes walk from here) so had to take a taxi.   Tomorrow M is hiring a car for work plus the weekend - so perhaps he can collect me from the doctor in the afternoon.   I want the car back, but am glad that we haven't been spending ££££'s on petrol in the last 2 weeks (it's nearly 3 weeks actually).  

We've not lived an exemplary car-free life.   If I was feeling better I would have walked to the doctor, but the fact is, one doesn't usually go to the doctor when one is feeling full of oojah-cum-spiff... so walking to the doctor is a bit of a fantasy really.

This weekend we will be having maximum use of the car: we will go to a supermarket, to the cash & carry, to the farm shop, to the rubbish dump, to the plastics re-cycling place... oh, the places you'll go!  Not having a car creates pent-up demand, and I wonder how we would be dealing with these things if we continued without one.   Perhaps just one hire every month to do that stuff - or we'd begin to investigate car-sharing. I doubt very much whether there's a scheme around here; even the greenest people seem to have 2 cars (they NEED them)... so getting them out of the habit would be hard.  But perhaps we could reduce some of them to 1 car.   However, it's another scheme I don't really have the energy for.

BRICS & Conspiracies

Yes - the blog is going global - the discerning few in Brazil have joined the Indian and Russian audience... sadly I doubt whether China will be joining in - think I'll have to make do with Singapore - and as for S Africa - well, given that half my family is white S African I know for a fact that reading isn't one of their favourite activities (and that was before the internet and tv).  What on earth does this audience make of this rather parochial worldview? - or perhaps they are all ex-pats craving some crusty and bewildered comments that remind them of good old Blighty? 

Had a fascinating chat with D today - a newish friend (let's face it all my friends down here are newish...) I really like him - there's something about one's fellow cradle Catholics that... well, there's some sort of shared culture - and he's Irish too.  He is also a bit of a conspiracy fan.... he was jokingly talking about the Illuminati - Finn overheard him and said afterwards "Does that man really believe in the Illuminati?"  I thought not - and said that I was a fan of the cock-up rather than the conspiracy theory... I felt the world was in its current state because of a combination of greed and incompetence, and lack of foresight and short sighted governments who have no real ambition beyond winning the next election.  However D thinks there could be some vast Establishment plot that's caused it.   I personally don't think it's in anyone's interest to bring the Western Economies to their knees - unless it's the BRICS - which seems unlikely since all the major players are US-owned transnationals.  

On the subject of the US he feels that they have done plenty of harm around the world and should now understand that it's China's turn.   As an ex-nurse he's afraid of what will happen as the UK health service is slowly privatised.  The first hospital has been privatised - by a nice, softly spoken, not-for-profit company - clearly chosen to put everyone at their ease, before the Megadodo International Insurance and Facilities Management Corporation starts getting into its stride and buying up the rest, sacking everyone and charging for the use of wheelchairs (they are free to use in the UK, or used to be).

D is an interesting and thoughtful man - like a lot of us he has slightly odd ideas about things he doesn't understand - I am all too prone to developing my own theories - which is why I crave a proper conversation with knowledgeable persons to get some light on the dark subjects.  In this case I think I was playing the role of knowledgeable person - certainly when it comes to understanding how the City works (a bit).  

The problem neither of us could resolve was why Tony Blair - a religious man - a convert to Catholicism - could square 800,000 dead in Iraq with his faith.  (OK, first person to mention medieval manifestations of Catholicism will be disregarded - that was 500 years ago - Catholic social and political teaching has moved a long way since then.).  Iraq was clearly not a just war.  Did Blair think they'd drop a few bombs and it would all be over by lunchtime?  I do understand though the desire to intervene and "make better" and that was, I think, was what he thought it would do.  Or did he just enjoy sucking up to Bush (oh dear, I'm getting my tenses mixed up - due no doubt to my day of editing the novel - changing persons and tenses everywhere).  Whatever it was, I don't buy the idea that he was somehow blackmailed into it.    Clearly I don't spend enough time reading the conspiracy blogs...

Strange Smell - for lovers of trivia/mindless witterings

For the last few weeks there's been a faint, almost subliminal smell, in my nostrils... I've been trying to work out what it is.  I have elminated myself as the source - but it's definitely an organic sort of smell.  At first I likened it to a distant whiff of public loos - amoniac, with bleach on top.  Now it's taken on a slightly fishier quality - a bit like certain types of glue.

This morning I woke up at 4.30 am and it began to impinge on my conscious almost at once.  I realised that I always smellt it in the bedroom (it can be eliminated by hiding under the duvet) or in the dining room - both of which rooms have open fireplaces... now I can smell it in Mark's office, which doesn't.  That's a shame, as I thought I had solved the mystery - I concluded it must be a dead seagull decaying in one of the chimneys - hence the fishy quality.  Now I will have to re-think.   Perhaps a seagull has dropped some fish down the chimney - but why can I small it in here?  Maybe it is some kind of glue M has been using.

The other mystery is that only I can smell it - I have some vague memory of hearing about a disease which manifests itself at first through a mysterious smell... in the nose of the sufferer (hypochondriac - moi?!) but I must have imagined/invented this. I wish I knew what it was - most of the time I don't mind, I have other things to worry about, but waking up early in the morning with it is bad.

Version 12

I think this must now be version 12 of the Romantic Feminist I'm working on.  The last agent said too much 1st person not good, too many layers of introspection ditto.  So I am finally killing the last of my darlings - adding a few details and putting it nearly all into 3rd person - reserving 1st person present tense for exceptionally vivid passages... will this do?  I am sending the first 50 pp. off to another agent  (or possibly 3) tomorrow.   This bloody books IS going to get published - whatever M says (supportive husband?  nah - now that he's discovered I'm not dying and supper will be cooked, he's back to normal).

The Armed Man & Remembrance Sunday

Last night M's choir gave a performance of Karl Jenkins' The Armed Man - it was rather wonderful - in part because it uses lots of familiar forms of music in turns - so the juxtapositions are interesting, and help one to continue to pay attention.  The words are important too - there is a section from the Mahabharata called Torches - which is truly gruesome and pathetic.  The music is interspersed with a series of readings... a lot of it deals with WWI - so it was a very appropriate piece to go and hear, gave me lots of thoughts about the book - and was inspiring.   It did not however move me to tears.  Usually this sort of thing does, and I think this is because of the medication - I miss having my emotions.  Of course, when I am really upset, as I am today, it does not make any difference and I still feel sad and angry and tearful - that's another story though...

The Armed Man really was a joy, even though parts of it were difficult to listen to.  I really liked the mixture of genres - an imam came and sang the call to prayer - then there was a psalm - No 56 - which I shall now be calling the feminist Psalm - since it is called "God save me from Bloody men" - it was sung as plain chant, and the opening and closing pieces were sung like a medieval marching song.... the end is beautiful and it seems an odd combination of an historical and religious piece.  I wonder whether KJ is a believer?  The ending is an affirmation that wouldn't suit atheist.   

Apparently there was a 15thC tradition of "armed man masses" - dealing with what?  Asking God's protection from them in war time?  Or praying for their success?  The performance last night was billed as connnected with Remembrance Sunday - and everyone wore poppies.

I was not wearing a poppy - we gave some money - the chaps all have them - but I decided this year that the pressure to wear one was getting silly and that choice in the matter was important (oh what an adolescent I am!).  I am a little concerned that the nationalistic aspect is getting out of hand.  Apparently this year people have sold more poppies than ever.  I know it is about remembering the sacrifice of those who died in wars - our soldiers and other people's soldiers - but I can't help feeling that people aren't really sorry about all the Germans, Afghans, Iraqis and Libyans we've whacked over the years.

I think we are selling more this year because people have become very concerned about the armed forces - they are dying in smaller numbers, but in nastier little conflicts that we at home don't feel emotionally engaged with.  I also think our relative poverty at the moment, and powerlessness in the world makes people keener to assert something that is very British.  Other countries do other things - on different days. 

My sister P and her husband J say that one should wear a poppy because one is wearing them for the right reasons... and "reclaim" the symbol from the baddies - it's a good theory - but how do people know that one is "reclaiming" it - rather than just asserting it as a nationalistic thing?   All this fuss about the footballers wanting to wear poppies makes me think there is something a bit bonkers about it. 

The more I read and think about WWI the more convinced I am of the horror, but at the same time it doesn't stop me feeling that our armed forces should when possible give a hand to countries trying to liberate themselves from injustice and dictatorship.  Of course this can be seen as imperialist, and I am not offering to go myself.... clearly there are wars and wars... we haven't been under much threat ourselves since WW2 - so should we have fought anywhere else?  Debateably we shouldn't have fought in WW1 - but we were in an alliance that called on us to do so.   Would the Germans have attacked us if we'd just left them to get whichever bits of France they wanted?

Carefree is by bus?

Well, after 2 weeks of not going very far (and having had a second Ocado delivery) I finally had to go to Margate for a meeting.  I am now aware of where the nearest bus stop to Margate Old Town is.   I was late - not that it mattered, but on the whole I enjoyed the bus journey.  All human life is there, well a cross-section.

On this occasion unfortunately the passengers were a bit lacking in the picturesque - but I was able to stretch my legs - as I got one of the two seats with leg room - and look out of the window.  The bus has been cunningly constructed so that very few of the windows offer a good view - there are horizontal and vertical bars at crucial spots, or no leg room, or stickers at the base of the windows that obscure the view.   The view is very familiar - but it was a nice day - the sun always looks good on the harbour - however bleary it may seem.

At the end of the meeting Jon offered me a lift to Ramsgate - he claimed he had one or two things to do here (if so, why didn't we have the meeting here in the first place?).  He drove via a very odd route, and then went back to Margate.   I have to say this has resulted in negative carbon impact - it was nice to chat with him - but he really should not have offered me a lift (but I think, being a more traditional socialist) he is less concerned with la vie en vert.  Alternatively, I could have been very right on - and refused and taken the bus, but I thought - well, if he's going anyway....    Must do better.

Jimmy Savile - and a repressed shudder

What a mysterious character.  I once saw him live on the Beatles Christmas Show at Hammersmith in 1903  (I think it was 1963 actually).  And then he was around on the telly all the time, and he seemed amusing when I was a child.  And then gradually, as I grew older he began to give me the creeps.

There was something so constructed about his persona I felt uncomfortable with it.  Everything seemed controlled beneath the faux-chaotic surface.  Yes, the charity work was marvellous - and relentless.  But why?  Well, he obviously had no personal life.  But why?

Two things I have heard: most journalists have heard rumours that he was a paedophile - there is no evidence of this, it is only a rumour.  However, I heard him interviewed once and he said he hated children - apparently he did - although not apparently enough to stop him earning lots of money hosting a children's tv programme and working with them.  His hatred of children may have been a transferred self-hatred for the feelings they evoked in him.

The other thing is not so much what I've heard, as what I've deduced.  He was insanely proud of his intellect and membership of Mensa - he believed he was a totally rational person (apart from being a devout Catholic - which isn't totally rational in the sense the word is usually understood).   If he was, then I guess he must have been aspergic... so that might account for the carefully constructed persona... and my feeling of unease.

Alternatively, this is an entirely subjective response and has no validity. But I wouldn't be surprised if other people didn't have the same response.

Without the car

...I was forced to go all the way to the Harbour on foot today - which meant that on the way back I went to the bank and paid a bit of a debt, then to the shop and bought some urgent items.  I got a bit giddy and nauseous after climbing the hill home, and as I sat on the bench near the almshouse in the dark, waiting to recover, I wondered whether they had put the almshouses there to keep the indigent old people fit - or whether they planned to ensure that there was a rapid turnover of elderly paupers as they consistently conked out from heart failure or apoplexy as they struggled with the gradient.

So I had a healthy walk and did the bank, the shopping and a meeting and spent no money on parking or petrol.  I splurged my savings on some smoked salmon pate....but I'm half celebrating the fact that Mark has another job in the pipeline.  A small sigh of relief may be permitted I think.

The Romantic Feminist

When I have a lot of things to do, I try to do the one that I'd enjoy most (if there's nothing extremely urgent).   While I was ill The Romantic Feminist was returned by another agent - she said there was a bit too much introspection, and that 1st person novels weren't fashionable at the moment.  So I've been re-writing it a bit.   Actually, a lot of the book is in 3rd person - but some of it is being changed in the hope of making things more detached.   I feel that I'm losing some of its identity, but it is "crisper" - certain things sounds totally stupid when you put them in 3rd person, so they have to go.  I've hacked away anything that looks too self-pitying in the introspective sections early on.   There is a lot of work to do - but I'm determined to get it sorted out and publishable.  I regret the loss of some of the intimacy - but I suspect the market for breathy, in your ear, intimacy is a bit limited. 

When I have a lot of things to do, I usually do something completely time wasting which avoids confronting the tasks that need to be done, but today has been an exception.  I now feel much better (after 6 weeks), so hope that my recovered strength is going to continue to sustain me through the four current issues: the 2 books, the Thanetarium, and Ramsgate Arts.   The small matters of housework, finance, family life, cooking etc. will just have to find their place.  And soon there will be Christmas.... and more cooking.

Bonfire Night

I really like Bonfire Night - to me it has always been a simple evening of enjoyment without any of the political-anthropological-NewAgey-social-religious overtones common to Hallowe'en.

Of course this isn't true - it's just that I have chosen to ignore them - it is actually an anti-Catholic celebration - but yet, as a Catholic family we always celebrated it with alacrity... I remember that waiting period when it got dark after one came home from school but we still had to wait until our father came home before we could have the bonfire and the fireworks.   Going into the garden and being excited by the sight of other people's rockets in the sky.  The weather being frequently appalling - vast amounts of smoke blowing into one's eyes, whereever one stood as the wind direction changed.   Sparklers - and the smell of sparklers.

When I was a child we used to make a guy for the bonfire - now I wouldn't dream of it.  Waste of good clothing!  One could theme one's guy - with masks.  In the 80s Mrs Thatcher masks were popular.  Children used to make guys and use them to raise money for fireworks.  Nowadays children aren't allowed to buy fireworks.   I remember poring for hours over the fireworks cabinets that appeared in newsagents' shops, and wondering how many we could afford to buy. I made price lists and tried to work out how much we could have of each type.  We saved up to buy ones we really liked which our parents didn't want, like jumping jacks.  I don't think they make them any more - much too dangerous!  Catherine wheels that didn't light - or got stuck.  Bengal matches which burned with a green or red flame.  And they were so cheap.  Even the biggest rockets weren't more than 25p - or five shillings.

Last night's bonfire night one of the most beautiful fireworks, called The Wrath of the Gods cost £25.  It was spectacularly lovely though.  There was another called Many Flowers in a Village Garden which lasted for ages, about 12 different bursts with different colours and effects.   Last year's favourites Monkeys Throwing Coconuts and Crabs doing something unusual were no longer available - the crab one had been particularly good, so it was rather a shame. 

As usual the fireworks were chosen and organised by Ben - and he, my father and James paid for them.  Which is why we have such fantastic displays.  None of the little mixed £25 boxes of fireworks, of the kinds we usually enjoy ourselves - or would have if we had our own firework do.   The trouble is, our display is usually rather better than the neighbours' shows.  At one point one of the neighbouring houses had a rather good aerial firework that make a lot of light and noise.  "Who dares to challenge the might of our fireworks?!" I thundered in my best Ming the Magnificent voice.

The tradition is - we (M and the boys) arrive in the afternoon and build the bonfire.  I cook a bit and make mulled wine.  Other people then arrive with different kinds of food.  When everyone is there, we start drinking the mulled wine, and admire the bonfire - then we have sparklers - and then we watch the fireworks - we admire the bonfire a bit more and then we feast.

Last night we feasted on chili wraps, guacamole, baked potatoes, pork and beans, coleslaw, parkin (traditional gingery cakes), brownies and a very delicious gateau au fraises from a posh patisserie in SW7 - and some v. good Chateauneuf du Pape and some quite good Cotes du Rhone.  Toffee apples? Pah!

Actually, this is becoming a food blog entry.

Bonfire night - before Hallowe'en was rediscovered in the UK - was obviously the descendant of the pagan fires of Samhain - but I've always experienced it as more friendly and sociable - it's not about huddling together in fear of the forces of evil - it's about being outdoors - with fires and light and being with other people in a positive way (even though the explosions of the fireworks might be about scaring away evil spirits).  It always feels more like a festival than Hallowe'en does.   Of course, the answer might be to reclaim Hallowe'en as a Christian festival - assert and proclaim the lives of the Saints and Souls.... which is clearly why the festival was put at this date (the earlier All Saints day was established in April - this one came about in 8th or 9th C - when no doubt pagan festivities connected with this time of year were still going fairly strong in Europe.   So although I decry the fact that Hallowe'en seems a more popular event nowadays (there are far more retailing opportunities), it's clear that Bonfire Night is very closely related to it.  Bonfires were part of Samhain I believe.  The best thing would be to have a joint festivity.

Car-free life begins

Yesterday I went to the bank and the shops on foot - well, that's no problem, except that I'm still a bit ill - the vlirus won't let me go.  So when I had bought a flea-collar and some washing powder, I felt nauseous and giddy - a bit like being pregnant really - and too ill to go and buy barley flakes and belly pork.  So I staggered home, and was extremely glad of the benches near the library.  Realised that if I had felt this ill under normal circs. I would have called M to collect me in the car.

I mentioned carlessness on Fb and one friend offered me trips to the shops which would be fun.  I hardly ever shop with anyone else (except Finn occasionally, which usually adds about £15 to the bill).  I am feeling particularly cross that I can't go to the farm shop though, since it isn't on a bus route - I could take a taxi of course, but if I were to do that I might as well buy all the vegetables at Waitrose. 

With fantastic timing - because I realised I wasn't quite ready for the walk back from Aldi with heavy bags in my current state of faiblesse - I had an email offering 25% off a shopping delivery at Ocado, so I gladly did this, and the shopping will arrive tomorrow - apart from the pork I need to make the traditional pork and beans for Bonfire Night.  (It's only traditional to my family - not to the British at large).  I rather hope that I am better next week - because I find with online shopping I always forget something crucial.

The other thing I notice is that because we are having a car for a whole weekend - Friday to Monday - I am now plotting all sorts of car-related things we can do: go to a party in Margate on Friday, go to the farm shop on Saturday.  I almost thought of going to Oxford on Sunday to see S - but I expect he will be visitored out... and it might appear alarming if a seldom seen cousin suddenly turns up - if I was ill and all my extended family started visiting from afar I would assume I was on my death bed.

Is a hire car cheating?  Interesting really - used judiciously it may not be - see it as a form of commercial car-sharing.   Wonder if I could interest any of the 2-3-car couples we know in a bit of that?   But if we hired a car every weekend that would only be £160-80 a month - not much more than we spend on the car anyway?  Unfortunately, we sometimes need the car for site visits etc.  so we can't really do without it long-term.  But then again, we could hire a car to go on site.

The obvious benefit of the car thing is that I will get more enforced exercise - and perhaps I will even try the bike again.  I used it in the summer for an interesting shopping trip.  It was bloody terrifying - and it will be a while before I can enjoy it the way I used to when I was young.  It's the derailleur - can't get used to it!  And it's sod's law that I have to start using the bike just as the weather gets revolting (it's fine now - but cold).  Also the bike has very little accommodation for shopping - wicker basket - but no room for panniers, so can't buy much more than milk and about 3 other items - and the farm shop is much too far and on too scarey a road - for the bike.   It is exciting - will I rise to the challenge of this situation, or will I sink into further depressive torpor?  Alternatively, I can wait until the new Asda opens at the end of the road (it will be about the same distance away as Waitrose - but less of a hill!) - or will my aversion to Walmart keep me ideologically pure?

What fresh hell 2?

Ok, forget everything I said yesterday - nothing in the world matters except having a healthy, loving family/friends.   This morning I discovered that my favourite cousin S, has "widespread" cancer.  He sent an early morning email.  I thought before I opened it that it was something ominous.  It is an absolute disaster.   Of course I hope and want him to recover but I've had sanguine feelings about other people's cancers when they've told me - expected them to get well, and this time I don't.  I hope I'm wrong and that my rather negative feeling is just due to the generally depressing nature of life at the moment, which is clouding my judgement. 

I rang my father.  He seemed depressed too.  Perhaps I should stop blogging and go back to bed and stay there for a day of mourning and grief.  My friend L's truly obnoxious old father died last week - a man who only remained alive through his own horrifying demandingness, as far as I could see.  I only encountered him once, mercifully, but none of the local care providers would work for him he was so difficult.   It is one of life's anomalies that someone like that lives into their 90s, while S who is one of the kindest, most thoughtful people should be threatened with death in his 50's.

When he came to my mother's funeral we all agreed we should have family picnics to meet up occasionally - and we duly had one in 2010.  The idea was that funerals shouldn't be our only chance of family reunions.  I didn't think about one this year, thought it might be too soon - now I wish we had, as I don't know if S will be well enough next spring but he may be.  Prayer, prayer, prayer and more prayer is all we can do.