Ageing news

I think something I might try and deal with occasionally is the ageing process.  Obviously it begins in earnest in one's 50's, and periodically I have a mini-crisis which makes me feel really weak and ancient.    Because of losing weight and feeling more active, recently I haven't suffered much age-related angst, but all it needed was a toe collapse yesterday for me to revert to this state.  My second toe on my right foot began hurting when I was walking home, there was a little pop of some sort and it began to hurt when I put it on the pavement.  I limped about Waitrose and bought some food, but succumbed and asked M to come and collect me.

After that I didn't notice much, but this morning it was hurting again - a sort of ache, and numbness.  I decided to try and work out what it was - but while I was briefly intrigued by the prospect of bursitis, terrified that it might be gout, or neuropathy, in the end I couldn't quite diagnose it.  None of these are terribly desirable ailments, I worried that it was arthritis - I occasionally get mild arthritic pain in my little fingers, so the toes struck me as another possible site for it.  However, perhaps, and this is what I'm hoping, it's just a bit of ligament trouble - unpleasant, but not quite such a symbol of deterioration.

I am winging it, this ageing business - much to be thankful for the continuing presence of oestrogen in my system - so the skin's OK, and there are occasional spots of blood to show it hasn't all packed up completely, so I'm not even tempted by the thought of HRT.  Most of the physical problems I have are connected with being overweight - and that is slowly being sorted out.  So although I sometimes feel twinges, most of the time I am in denial about it.

More dreams

Yes, I know other people's dreams are boring - and have been considered so since at least the 16th Century, as I discovered when I read Il Galateo  (spelling), but there's been a bit of a theme - first I dreamed a dream where I was doing normal things - but small pieces of money kept slipping through my fingers - cheques were dropped, slipped out of my hands and floated away.   Last night's dream was odd.  M and I were in a stately home gift shop - picking up lots of silly little things - but we couldn't pay for them, we were given a lot of tokens to use - but they had to be used by 4.00pm.  There was a young woman there researching for a PhD - she had research tokens and failed to cash them in and somehow lost her day's research.  We didn't have a disaster with ours, but there was a great anxiety.  Then we wandered around and found a room where a jazz band was playing - something by Miles Davis - one of the musicians flunked out and I found the rather good music was being made by me - on what looked like a clarinet, but sounded like a trumpet.  I was playing quite effortlessly - or rather my fumbling efforts were producing a clear, beautiful sound.  At the time I was anxious but when I woke up I felt rather positive about it - perhaps it is saying that my attempts to get things right are bearing more fruit than I realise and creating something good.  Well, I hope that is what it was saying.

Constructive

OK, I admit, haven't taken down all the decorations yet - I'm maintaining that liturgically it is still Christmas (till Candlemas) so it doesn't matter!  I have tidied up the kitchen a bit, but I haven't done the tax - and so on.

Things have looked up a bit - yes, we still have virtually no money till the end of February, and the potential Australian visitor proved to be a time-waster - so goodbye £75... sigh!  But on the plus side, we have a small, quick job - about £1200 - which is good, and some other stone related work, and we will probably get the Hammill job, although they aren't going to like the expense (not our fault - KCC specifications rule).  It doesn't improve the immediate prospects, for the next 6 weeks or so, but it does mean that the medium term prospects are better, and that if we get the Hammill job, we should be able to keep going until August.   Nevertheless, I still think the economy drive now is a good thing - it will teach us all to take our resources more seriously - and that we can't just borrow every time things go wrong.   If used carefully, we might manage to actually save some money this time - as long as the tax bill isn't too awful.

And I have had a constructive day - re-writing and adding more dialogue to the novel - in a desperate attempt to make it less narrator driven.  And we will have a delicious meal of left overs soon too - so all is well!

I feel almost cheerful - having felt desperate yesterday.  There was snow last night - the crab apple tree looked as if it had been sprayed with crazy foam.  Although it was a grey, dim sort of day, it didn't depress me, and I think praying, and talking to M helped somehow.

M's father seems very ill - M was upset after he saw him yesterday, he thinks he won't last another month.  I had an idea at the end of last year that someone might die in January, but then again, I have these ideas occasionally, sometimes they are right, well, I was right about my mother.

Back to work/Creative visualisation

Creative visualisation is all very well -  but it's a bit useless and the reality is often disappointing!

Last week, before the End of Christmas Party, I saw myself bouncing up on Monday to the bank to sort out finances etc. then I thought I would tidy away all the Christmas stuff. Then I imagined I would get to grip with planting the last few bulbs.  On Tuesday I was going to be getting back to the books.

Life is what happens when you're making other plans, and life engineered a car break down, some wet miserable weather, a hangover, and so on.  I managed to remove some of the decorations.  All the Christmas tree ones.  On Tuesday I cadged a lift to WW with Clare - we ended up having lunch (omlette and mixed veg - butternut squash, mushrooms and spinach) and frequent cups of tea and conversation.  It was very cheery and energising.  I had only put on 2.5 lbs over Christmas - so that wasn't too bad.  I was expecting to go to the Society of Authors do, but the car precluded it.  So... another evening in, somewhat marred by the fact that I felt very ill - constipated, light headed, dizzy, grumpy, aches and pains.  God knows why my bowels have chosen to misbehave - they're usually terribly reliable (TMI?) - but I read on the NHS website that it can be caused by anxiety and depression.

This morning I intended to change my plans - and work on Conscience and to submit that to 10 agents instead of submitting TRF until I'd had a little more time, and Tara's feedback... I felt the proximity of WWI centenary was a good thing for marketing purposes.  I ploughed in to read the first 3 chapters and found I'd already done some work on them - and saw that it was good.  However, halfway through the project I felt so grim I had to go back to bed.  I slept for a few hours, got up, had another row with Mark (I got up to do something about making him supper - even though I was ill!) and he started moaning at me.  He then apologised, but this is the second row today.

I am not Little Miss Sunshine just now - but he seems to be worse.  I found myself listening to him this morning and thinking "how can I possibly carry on like this?"  But behind that thought is the "creative visualisation" that things could be better in a smaller, tidier house on my own, or with Finn (Ned being off to university).  But some of the problems are related to my own anxieties, indolence - writing is more agreeable than housework - and easier to do when you're feeling under the weather.  And anyway, I have no money.  Perhaps I need to give myself another deadline - get a novel with a publisher by the end of the year or give up and find a job.   I jokingly look at job pages in the papers - there really aren't any. Maybe I should go to the private job agency in town, see if I can get a bit of temping.  We don't have any students at present, and no prospect of any.  And it's hardly peak time for tourists!  In some ways I feel as if this will be a "make or break" year - but I don't know if that's just the misery talking.

Last night I dreamed TRF was being published - and I thought "that's fantastic - that's within the two years" - this being the notional 2 years I anticipated in October 2011 - no, not anticipated "heard" - but did I hear from the deceptive voice?

Andrew Mitchell - no plebs were hurt!

I had a chat about the former Chief Whip with my brother in law.  He says with blazing integrity that AM did not say "pleb" - and that my ideas of him are based on what I knew of him 25 years ago, and that people change in 25 years.

I recognise the truth of this - I also see that the wind is blowing in AM's favour now that peculiar and deceitful police behaviour has been detected.  I am open to believe he did not say "pleb" on this occasion, although I wouldn't have been surprised to hear him use the word 25 years ago.  I am also surprised that he admits "swearing at" the policeman.  Why is this acceptable exactly?  And how is it more acceptable to be rude than to be class-conscious?  

The Final Day of Christmas

Several people said they were feeling a bit low about the end of Christmas - and that it was great to have a last party to look forward to. I'd said end Christmas with a bang, not a whimper, on the invitation. Everyone said how lovely the house was - all the candles - it is quite magical to have a room completely lit by candles - and the fires and the decorations, the ivy and evergreens withering on the mirrors etc.  We had a great mix of food and booze, since people brought left overs - or bought stuff especially - so lots of cheese and cake... which we didn't get through.  It was a very happy-making party - and we thought about all sorts of other future social events - and Sue even invited us to one in February - so more to look forward to.

Had some terrifically enjoyable conversations with people - those sort of warm bonding conversations which aren't intellectually stimulating necessarily (though they can be), but where you discover shared values - or feel stronger affinities with friends.  I think we are so lucky to know so many good people - ridiculous to think that the room was full of people I didn't know about at Christmas 2008... The only people at the party I knew then were Catriona and Michael... Robert - who now qualifies as almost our oldest Ramsgate friend - couldn't make it.  Others couldn't make it, and I am feeling guilty about people I omitted to invite - rather than excluded.  No one was deliberately excluded, I even asked a few people I didn't really want  (but fortunately they couldn't come) rather than exclude them.   But there are people who are not on my mailing lists.   Another strange feature was that a lot of my closest 1:1 friends, apart from Clare, Denise and Kirstie, couldn't make it for various reasons  - but it all seemed to work perfectly.  There was an interesting incident of middle-aged drunken groping... most unusual and indiscreet - but with quite a happy backstory to it - so have to hope it will have a happy ending and not be something he regrets in the morning!  It would be great if it worked for them both.

Considering how poor and miserable we have been feeling in the last few days - especially since the car broke down again - it was a very warm, rich-feeling party.  No champagne or caviar - but emotionally rich.  Ooh - I'm getting all Charles Dickens now - almost feel a quote from A Christmas Carol coming on.  Of course we are not "poor" in the classical sense - just intensely cash-strapped.  We must have faith in better times, and that we can earn money ourselves, rather than await inheritances - which is pretty sick.

Clare took a the wonderful photo of our tree/window/lights... might have to use it as our Christmas card next year!

Still a bit hungover - haven't removed all the decorations yet - but HAPPY!

Post Christmas omne anima triste sunt...

It's still Christmas - Day 10, and we are enjoying it on the whole, but I have begun to feel depressed.  When I began the Christmas "holiday" I was reluctant - I was taking my novels by the throat and shaking them up and looking forward to getting on with them.  The appalling financial situation we are in (£1200 to last until the end of February!) is a very marked source of depression.    (OK, there'll be some little bits to add in, but it's not enough to pay the mortgage or the tax bill).   And of course, there is no clear indication what piece of work will come in next - so we'll find ourselves with 2 month's money - but no real indication of when the next bit will arrive.  It's always been difficult, ever since we started the business - but in the past we had the cushion of credit cards behind us - and we had savings too.  We have neither now - I do save a little every month - but every two or three months we are called upon to use that money.

I have sworn not to borrow any more money from Ned's account.  There is a big part of me which knows something will turn up - something always does and God's never failed us yet - but if my faith is being tested, then I'm continually failing.  Actually, a lot of the time I am optimistic and not too worried, but the last two or three years have really tested my resilience, and the thought of another year like this gaping ahead of us with more fiscal voids and uncertainties is something I can barely believe is happening.   But we are living in the "new normal" - there is less work around.  Surely, I think, surely the government will do something to encourage housebuilding as a way of stimulating growth - which will help that side of the business.  But "stimulating growth" is an alien concept to this government.

And now, the weather...

Fiscally, when things are bad, we can barely afford to leave Ramsgate (an occasional trip to Margate for art and Pegwell Bay for nature can be allowed), and being trapped in Ramsgate is no good at all. I need to remember that I live in a house full of books and music - five minutes' walk from a library, three minutes' walk from a really good art gallery (since November) and that stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage - I still have intellectual freedom, but there is something a bit like adolescence now - stuck in the house, with people who are fond of me but also rather angry with me. Ned was so negative about the food last night that I began to cry and he said "Don't give me that!" or something similar.  I quite like lentils etc., and we are going to be eating a lot of them - so it isn't a great problem for me, but having to struggle to sell this idea to Ned is just the bitter end.  I think it is unfair of him to be beastly like that.  I so seldom cry.  I am spending all my time controlling my sorrows, repressing them - and actually, I don't usually write them in my blog - I have another place for this.  But I am quite angry really, and the depressive feeling is because I can't do much about it.  But quite frankly, would being able to afford to go to London or Oxford or somewhere more agreeable for a day make much difference?

I think this year I do not feel 2013 is a "New Year" - it is simply the continuation of 2012 by other means, and 2012 started absolutely brilliantly - it was so exciting - and then it tailed down into disappointment.  Then again, I finished another novel - something I had longed to do - and I am really in a better situation than I was this time last year.  It just doesn't feel that way.  I don't think 2013 can get worse, if only because I will be more inured to the misery of the unpublished novelist's life.  But as M says - I am in the top 0.1% of unpublished novelists - I have two novels, I have had one of them taken seriously by a good agent, it is getting around.  It will happen in the end.