More Staycation

On Sunday 11th August we went to Cobham Hall near Gravesend - it was an amazing house, rather scuffed around the edges...as it is a commercial girls' school most of the time.  There was an affable but rather dithery guide - got a few fab facts wrong - I made allowances for his age, but it was a bit boring.

Before that we went to St James's Church Cooling, which gave Dickens some inspiration for Great Expectations - rather less atmospheric than I had hoped - no longer at the edge of the sea, it is now surrounded by a few suburban houses, a very nice village hall and some polytunnels.  There is a distant prospect of the Canvey Island refinery... we thought it very fine.

The "holiday" continues

After our weird visit to Cobham Hall last Sunday M wrote to them suggesting some improvements to their tourist "offer" - instead of being offended they noticed the letters after his name and invited him to come in for a chat about how to spend their Heritage Lottery Fund grant... wow!  So that was one strange and positive thing.

Wednesday was a good day.  I finally swam and enjoyed it, and lay on the beach and read The Barber of Seville as part of my attempt to immerse myself briefly in Beaumarchais... then we had a small lunch at Miles' Bar...and sitting in the sun with a glass of wine is the holiday feeling in miniature so that was it.

Thursday was a less good day - the car not unexpectedly failed its MoT test - and needs £300ish worth of parts, and the washing machine also went into a coma...this precipitated another depressive crisis - weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth and on Friday impassioned emails to various chums to make appointments to use their washing machines... so things improved after that.  I took washing to Anna's on Friday, on Saturday another load was done at Kirstie's while she fed me Pimm's, oatcakes, cheese and rhubarb chutney.   This was at the end of an oddly exhausting day - we went around some of the open studios - one friend's, the others people I didn't know. It was fun and interesting, the houses all as interesting as the work almost.  We eschewed certain houses - brightly coloured flummery doesn't interest me greatly.

One of the artists Brian Bushell paints death and decay - and waves.  He uses a really limited palette and lots of impasto... very effective - there was a particularly striking crucifixion, which I'd love to have.  He said that colour distracts people from the subject - makes them look in a more shallow way.  I've been to his house before - it's a wonderful house, which I very much want, because it has a 100 foot garden that goes down to the abbey.  Just the kind of garden they would love to build on.

Mike's pottery studio was amazing in quite a different way.  He had shelves and shelves of stuff - we bought a vase for M's mother - and a butter dish stamped with elephants on it for ourselves and an irresistible green dish because I loved it - this did not represent a vast expense, I think these are the first "things" we've bought for ourselves for ages.  I did buy a book recently - but that was for my talk - Beaumarchais' Figaro plays.

We had a long trek over to the "other side" - ie the Far EastCliff - which is getting the gentrification treatment too - the Farrow & Ballistas have arrived with their lichen and verdigris front doors and their acid etched glass.  Very tasteful.  (Just jealous).   After the last studio I rather ran out of energy - went home and had a nap, and a bath and fell asleep in the bath... then up for laundry and Pimms, back home for a quick shout at everyone "Where is my phone charger?  Who asked you to take it out of the socket I left it in?  Does it not occur to you I may have left it there for a reason?"  And out again, with another load of washing to supper with Anna's, gorged on lentil and mango salad and a couple of bottle of organic rose and the trusty ginger beer... came home at one, slept until 5 and then could not get back to sleep.  So today was a rather low-key affair - but I did a bit of gardening and so on, otherwise there was resting, writing, editing and so on.  Not unsatisfying,.  Even doing a bit of editing on TRF makes me feel I'm not totally wasted my day.  Am delighted that I have managed to prune back about 1300 superfluous words - writers are told to "show not tell" - in quite a lot of places I've done both... so it's good to cut.   In case anyone wonders, these blog pieces are scandalously unedited, I type 'em, read 'em through and post 'em - no messing!

Staycation 2013

OK - given that I am not working much - apart from on the festival - I am going to try and see the pleasant activities I have indulged in as a holiday.

Despite living by the sea, I have still not been to swim properly - and to get a real sense of "holiday" I need to get away from Thanet.    So last week I went to Deal with Finn... and we shared a sandwich and some garlic bread in the Bohemian.   On Thursday I went to Sandwich with Mark - and we ate lunch at the No Name Bistro - which consisted of a number of platters of charcuterie - which weren't bad, but not wonderful either.  I liked the fact they sold wine by the pichet and it was cheap, but it was fairly bland wine.  We then went to see the Guildhall Museum - which is truly one of the most inane museums I have ever visited (and in this area there's a good deal of choice).  It is tiny, and they have managed to make Sandwich's rather interesting history extremely dull.  In a sense a museum is a sort of 3-D book - but this was more of a postcard really.

Yesterday, a Saturday, we went, at Mark's desire to see a Roman display at Dover Castle.  There was a tremendous turnout - cars parked on the next hill in a vast field.  There was some fairly lack-lustre gladiatorial combat - in which the crowd all predictably gave the thumbs down to the vanquished gladiators... plus ca change!  Then there was about 50 minutes of seeing the Ermine St Guard (a group of Roman re-enactors) going through various Roman military drills etc.  I learned a lot and it was quite pleasant, but I am so sorry that joy and delight seem to evade me.

It occurred to me that this would be a good day to visit a pub at St Margaret's Bay called The Coastguard.  It is almost on the beach and we were able to sit outside.  I had heard the pub had very good food.  I don't remember who told me that, but it isn't true.  The usual ding-food whitebait and twice-cooked chips that tasted bland and unpotatoey... my prawns were fairly tasteless - watery and full of roe, maybe there's a connection.  So glad I only had half a pint, not the whole thing.  The greek salad was an outrage.

Today's holiday treat is to drive to Gravesend and see a house that is only open 3 times a year, so that could be fun.  But I suppose what I am questioning is "why am I now enjoying this?"  I mean I quite enjoyed yesterday, it was nice to go to St. M's even if it was a bit dull.  I wonder if I am suppressing  my feelings for some reason.  And in fact I know that I am, I have successfully suppressed thoughts of the LO, which is really excellent, because they are really unhelpful.  But now I feel as if I am on anti-depressants, a bit numb, a bit underwhelmed by things.  I know that if I suddennly had the money to fly to Rome or Madrid or somewhere new I would be stimulated and excited, so perhaps all I am talking about here is boredom.  Oh dear, who said only the boring are bored?  But I feel, much as I love Ramsgate, that I have extracted a lot of the juice from this area.

Despondency

When one is subjected to repeated buffetings by life, one gets used to it - one rides with it most of the time - until the 27th Wave - or whatever the magical wave is - that somehow pulls you under and half drowns you and leaves you attempting rise from beneath it and scramble back up the beach.

So the 27th Wave - or agent's rejection email arrived today.  Clearly I just need to get back on the horse and so on, and not be thrown by it.  At first I just ignored it, but as the evening wore on I thought "when? why?" "how" can/will I be published again?  Is it really so dire? No, I've read much worse books by well liked authors, is it really my lack of contacts?  My failure to have studied a creative writing course?  Or chummed up with the Granta boys?  Why do badly written books by idiots get published?  Because agents and publishers will take a punt on them because they feel safe with them.   And then I go back to the matter of personal taste... assuming they've read the first few pages, these are people who don't like the way I write, and nothing will endear me to them - even if I were writing about rap and crack addicts and the latest technology.  So it isn't my age or anything like that.  I am arguing with myself, because I do not like to cry unecessarily.  I am beginning to feel "it's unfair!".  Other people are getting their place in the sun, their lucky breaks - so how about mine?

Never mind, nice things happen too.  Stops, scratches head and tries to remember: well, today I went to Deal and sat in the sun with Finn and talked about smoking and drugs and other matters of mutual interest.  He has been fairly good about the film course in Deal - it's his "holiday" basically.  I really hope he enjoys it and it leads somewhere.

And this is leading me back to the question - why is my work not leading me anywhere?  Is it the lack of a sub-plot?  Is it the complex language?  Is it some bizarre fault in me that I just can't quite see?   Or is it because I am living in God's time and the kairos is still a bit of a way off.  It is made all the more frustrating by the fact that I have virtually no time to work on the other book at the moment.  At least if I were making progress with that I'd feel things were looking up.  Not sure how to get out of the Slough of Despond and on the road to the Maidenhead of Endeavour...

Susan Miller's forecasts - July

She means well, she means so well, but she is doing us a disservice.

July was an extremely difficult month for me, starting with the argument with my mother in law on 30th June, followed by a week or so of preparations for the funeral in which she continued to have go's at us in various ways.  The funeral itself (12th) was fine, but afterwards I  became progressively more exhausted and by 19th July was wishing I wasn't here (or anywhere) any more and going to the doctor to see if I could have anti-depressants again. I worked hard on submissions, and managed abour 4.  As the month closed I was under incredible pressure with the work involving the Open Exhibition.  I felt angry, stressed, horrible.  I saw friends but nothing really seemed to reach me - occasionally an evening of booze and chat relieved the tension.   It was hot and beautiful, but I never made it to the beach.  I was indoors on the laptop.  I was submitting the novel, and not being able to write the other one.  I realised what I needed to do to the other one, but I also realised I couldn't start doing it now, so a frustrating time creatively too.


A bloody awful month, so it is just as well I didn't believe Susan Miller's prediction - for Scorpio, my ascendant, she said  A wonderful month ahead.   After 9th July money improves - well, we had a couple of extra students, but no new work, and on 22nd the boiler broke down (£300) and we had to be bailed out by my father.

From 8th July we were under the "golden triangle" which should have been especially fantastic because it was conjunct my ascendant - and Mars was in it too... it would be hard to find any way in which the last few weeks have been full of golden opportunities for me (apart from the submissions) - although Mark has actually been finding new potential sources of funding.  17th-19th  Peak of Golden Triangle - this will be a marvellous month for fun and love and you could find someone new in your life.... well, maybe I've rediscovered Mark's virtues...

My actual Sun sign horoscope was more accurate, it stressed that it would be a hardworking month.  It was, but I was not working hard for money, or for my own satisfaction, but on keeping other people happy... looking after the students, supporting the loathesome Stella, supporting Anna T (a bit) and then sorting out the open exhibition.  The only period when I was working for myself (potentially for money) was the period when I was doing submissions (15th-19th).  Apparently the work is going to continue until October - oh great!  Will I ever manage to write again?

Warm glow continues...computer allergy

It must be hormonal - I am still feeling good, I went out to Anna G's last night, and even though I drank another bottle of wine, I still feel good this morning.  Again, conversation and laughter has a great effect on things.  But I'd had a pretty agreeable day with Mark too - despite lack of funds (down to £5 in the bank account until Tuesday, and no credit cards!)  And in fact rescue came, in the form of a BnB guest whose £50 will be in the bank on Monday - so we have sailed close to the wind, but just made it.  Might have enough money to go out and buy some double cream for this evening's meal...

The only fly in the ointment, apart from the almost predictable fiscal meltdown - was my eyes. I have been doing an enormous amount of data in-putting and checking stuff on the imputer... and my eyes began to feel weary and watery.  Yesterday sitting on Margate Harbour in the sun, we were also in the teeth of a howling (but warm) gale, one of my eyes began to water so badly that I thought I had repeated my awful scratched cornea experience.  By the time we got into the Turner it was unbearable - nothing seemed to make it better, although light seemed to make it worse.  I went and sat down in the reading area.  I couldn't read, because I'd left my specs somewhere - so I sat - apparently weeping - amongst the books.  Walking back to the car I felt almost disorientated - the journey home was agony.  But I knew that what I needed to do was rinse my eye out and lie down.   I did this, snoozed for 10 mins or so, and my eye felt better.  So, force of habit, I went and sat at the computer and began looking at a couple of websites.   Soon it began to feel worse again.  And the other eye began to water.  So I repeated the process and had another snooze... got up feeling nervously better.   Didn't touch the computer and went to Anna's feeling a bit fragile and bloodshot and made a full recovery.

I would like to say it's all over, but as I type this my left eye is beginning to itch and water again.  Am I developing some sort of computer-generated ailment!  Will this be the last blog...? Watch this space.

A warm glow & Family culture

Well - I am trying to work out why... can it be alcohol?  Could it be 3 or 4 hours of hard and interesting talk with people... can it be the general bonhomie engendered by being in the UpDown Gallery with lots of pleasant free wine circulating.  Is it the fact that I managed to finish all the bumf about the Open Studios - er, well, what...?   The truth is that I am full of love and compassion for everyone.... even dear Mark, who does give good chat when we go out.  The fact that people love meeting archaeologists and are interested in what they do is great.

When we came home we found Finn hanging around outside the house.  We didn't have our phones so he couldn't call us, but we found him in time, went in, sat and had coffee and drinks with him and chatted pleasantly.  We were all 3 of us rather drunk.  But it was a jolly, amenable time.

I had an insight into poor old Ned, he always feels slightly in the wrong.  I think it's because he's got an inherited tendency to certain characteristics, and these characteristics are at odds with the prevailing "culture" in our family.  Which leads on to questions of why the culture is at odds with our temperament and the answer is, to some extent because I set the culture, but it's a culture Mark approves of, and Mark is at pains to conform to it - Finn fits it easily because he's temperamentally similar to me, but Ned naturally wants to rebel against it - because he must rebel against something, but finds himself rebelling against something fundamentally agreeable - so he is made to feel in the wrong a great deal.  I don't wish it to be like this, but it did provide me with a great idea about how families work.  It feeds the work.... But the problem is  for Ned, not feeling he quite fits, makes him feel unloved and everything.  I hope he doesn't feel, as some children do, that he doesn't "belong" - but then again, I often felt I didn't "belong" as a child.  It's not an exceptional way to feel, but perhaps that feeling of not belonging makes one (as adopted children often are) very keen to stamp your own pattern on your family when you create one.