Honeysuckle fully-fledged

New blog!

2010-07-13T11:35:00.000-07:00

Hi there,

Three Bags Full now has its very own blog at:

Threebagsfullwoolshop.blogspot.com

Bit of a mouthful, eh? Anyway, if you're a yarn-lover - or even if you're not - it would be great to see you there.

Getting going...

2010-07-11T02:17:00.000-07:00

Well, I'll have a couple of hours unexpected leisure time this afternoon and, with a choice of ways to fill it, what I'm favouring at the moment is a first attempt at setting up a website for the shop. My friend is very kindly hosting a page for us over at partythings2go.co.uk (thanks, Lorraine!) but I'm trying to limit the items on there to those which tie in with partythings stock - so far I've managed pom pom maker kits, but there's more to come! (I put the pom pom maker kits together myself and felt pathetically proud when I sold a couple yesterday morning...)

Weaving kits anyone? French knitting? Hmmm, what else can we do...?

Am turning into a real yarn freak. Am now convinced there's more to colour therapy than meets the eye. Have just ordered some of this:How gorgeous is that? Doesn't it lighten your mood just looking at it?

Now you can find us!

2010-06-19T00:04:00.000-07:00

This is our new Three Bags Full sign, up on colonnade level and clearly visible from the courtyard. Mike took the original photo of the lamb (thanks, Mike!). More on his great photos later, but in the meantime...

Next Saturday we're having the official Three Bags Full opening...yes, I know we've been open since the 5th, but it was all a bit of a low key rush. Low key's good for me, but rushed less so. So next Saturday (26th) we'll be having nibbles and soft drinks, great offers and we'll just be really pleased to see anyone who wants to buy, browse, or just pop in and say hi. And if you fill in the short survey you get the chance to enter the draw for £15 of TBF gift vouchers.

Really must get that other blog started; have been hi-jacking Honeysuckle's webspace long enough...

Three Bags Full

2010-06-13T01:14:00.000-07:00

OPEN FOR BUSINESS!

Falling behind here - the new blog and the website are both on hold till I get my snazzy new laptop and dongle so I can work online in the shop...

Yes, I now have a shop!! We're open - yay!! Come visit us Tues to Saturday at the Piece Hall (Unit 3). We have some lovely yarns - Debbie Bliss, Mirasol, Artesano and many more. Or, if you don't knit, we have some little gifty type things - with lots more still to come - and gorgeous buttons, handmade cards and gift tags. I'm also selling my niece's canvas shoulder bags, which are sold purely in aid of her fundraising project aimed at supporting cancer charities.

But it's also lovely when people just to call in and say hello. So please do!

Nearly there, kind of

2010-05-16T21:08:00.000-07:00

Signing for the premises this morning, so have slept about two hours tops, and each time I woke I had buttons, yarn and needles running through my dreams. If I get the keys today the pace will increase dramatically. Or as dramatically as possible with me at the helm. Still have no yarn, altho' I'm set up to order some once the banks sort themselves out. Why does it take four days for a telephone transfer of funds to clear? They could send a member of staff across town with the cash in his back pocket quicker than that.

To have a cash till or not to have a cash till? That is the question. If I don't have a cash till, am I telling the cosmos I'm not expecting to get many sales? If I do have one, does that introduce too much an aspect of financial motivation into my little woodentops world? So many decisions; so little brain power.

Lambs, chickens, eggs...

2010-05-01T08:03:00.000-07:00

I have a lamb. Sadly, not real, but lifesize and very pretty nevertheless. She stands in front of the television at present exuding benign vibes - the sort of smiley lamb you can't pass without wanting to stroke. We've also amassed a once scruffy (and therefore very cheap) oak trolley that I've Nitromor'd, waxed and buffed back to beauty, and various disparate items that might or might not look good in a small shop aiming for the Scandinavia meets English country cottage look. I've bought my spotty bunting from dotcomgiftshop and my baskets. I'm on course.

Amongst various disasters of the not-knowing-what-I'm-doing variety last week, whilst on a jaunt seeking out said items, I managed to embarrass myself in the local joiner's shop. This isn't any old joiner's shop; this is two floors of old England, reclaimed pine at its finest, rustic cupboards, wardrobes, thick-topped tables, children's school desks complete with inkwells and childish carvings, old trunks. I love it. We bought a few baskets, a towel rail, a chair. Not unique things, but not mass-produced modern, either. So I think the owner was a bit surprised when he asked for payment and I tried to fit my Ikea Family card into his machine. I love Ikea, but his look was one of amused disgust. Ah well, room for all sorts. Next week I'm going back to ask him to make me some shelves and, just in case, I'm leaving the Ikea card at home.

What I don't have yet is yarn. A nice man's coming to see me on Tuesday morning about that and what he'll say is something about needing proof I'm a bona fide trader. I think. And I don't have any proof because the tax office moves very slowly. They actually say you shouldn't register as self employed until you're trading, but if you want to buy wholesale, you can't start trading till you're registered. Chickens. Eggs.

A change isn't as good as a rest, but can be more interesting

2010-04-18T00:57:00.000-07:00

Well, I haven't been here for so long, maybe no one drops by anymore...

Lots has changed in the last few months: I was made redundant for a start! I don't quite understand why the first job I've really felt was worthwhile should also be the one which has its funding stopped and from which I'm made redundant. That's life, eh? And, of course, as it had been relatively short-term employment, there was no redundancy payment and I don't get Jobseekers' Allowance. Hmmm, good job I'm not one to complain.

But, I have a new scheme. I'm opening a wool shop. Well, all being well, I am. I'm not counting any chickens because counted chickens are so inclined to bite you on the bum. But, that's my plan. I've been to my silver entrepreneurs workshops, I've registered as self-employed, I've contacted people about property to rent, I'm opening a business bank account and when the final pieces slot into place, I'm away.

How exciting is that? Well, it's fairly exciting for me. Actually, it's terrifying.

Whoops...almost forgot to mention: new blog coming soon, I hope, with lots of lovely close ups of lambs and rainbow-coloured hanks of gorgeous yarns and...well, I'll try to make it nice...

Phew, wish me luck!

The sensitive, the considerate and the plucky

2009-10-26T12:20:00.000-07:00

There's a famous quote, an excerpt from a longer piece by E M Forster, that goes:

I believe in an aristocracy of the sensitive, the considerate and the plucky. Its members are to be found in all nations and classes, and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding when they meet.

I thought about this when I was watching Nick Griffin on Question Time, because I know I'd sooner have a member of that over-arching aristocracy - someone sensitive, considerate and plucky - living next door to me, whether their skin's black or white, whether they're old, young, gay, straight, disabled or non-disabled, than I would a home-grown thug.

Is there a newspaper that just tells it as it is?

2009-10-18T01:13:00.000-07:00

I've always been willing to admit (with a sizeable dollop of embarrassment) to being a Daily Mail reader. Daily Mail during the week: Guardian on Saturdays - we like to be even-handed. And while the Mail irks me with its over-the-top, right wing paranoia, the Guardian irks me with - well, it just irks me. Everything about it shrieks going-to-hell-in-a-handcart champagne socialism. It's a pity that both papers have readable bits that I quite enjoy. And they're familiar, y'know? I can easily find the bits I like.

But now, maybe the Mail has crossed the line. I coped with them printing a story on 'Down syndrome' rather than Down's because, apparently, 'the writer's Australian and insisted' (writers don't insist on things - they say: 'Gosh, do you mean it? You'll really publish it? Thanks!'); I've coped with very many articles on how women's bodies have changed over the last three decades; with articles on this or that woman who gave up her high-flying job to look after her children and how much happier she is as a result; on sisters who are different from each other in some way(without ever working out why I should care); on Kerry Katona, who the Mail thinks should stay out of the limelight but whom they photograph every time she changes her cardigan; and I've coped over and over with features on people who have rejected their disabled child at birth only to discover an upswell of devotion to said child three, six or twelve months later...I've coped with all that, and even with the pieces recently on a new kind of iron and the Lakeland catalogue, for pity's sake. I've read enough serialisation announcements with the words 'searingly honest', 'coruscating', 'hilarious' and 'brilliant' in them to last me a lifetime. But, in and amongst all this drivel, I quite like some bits, even some that I suspect are near-fiction. And I like Liz Jones, mainly because she's such a weirdo and, I feel, a kindred spirit.

But, y'know, while I can deal with all that other DM rubbish, there really wasn't any need for that nasty piece on Stephen Gateley. I wasn't a Boyzone fan and I don't feel all holier than thou about it, but what sort of paper publishes something that nasty about someone just after they've died? It wasn't necessary. It wasn't kind.

So, I'm looking for a new read. But what is there? The Independent? - looks a bit big. It'd be like navigating the streets of Bristol when I'm used to finding my way round Dewsbury. The Times? - I don't think so. Is there anything out there that just offers a non-biased, non-sallacious, non-judgmental view of what's happening?

No, I didn't think so.

Exit, pursued by a ...

2009-10-01T02:25:00.000-07:00

This was going to be a jolly post (yes, it was, really!). I was going to describe our pathetic attempts at jiving (probaby best I don't tho') and how we arrived home on Tuesday to find Sweetie Pie had all but broken her foot when a scary spider chased her out of the living room. In her terror, she ran straight into the open door. Ouch. After a mere two hours in A & E, she was told it was 'just' a sprain and strapped up, and she hobbled off to school as usual in the morning. Well actually, I don't suppose that is that jolly, is it? Sweetie didn't think it a laughing matter - well, not until after she'd had a couple of painkillers anyway.

I was going to tell you about that, but then I spotted the info on the Brit Writing Awards in Writers' News and wanted to check if I'm the only person in the UK who can't understand the need for a 'Diverse unpublished writer of the year award' or, if we must have something which is so badly worded, why it should only be diverse enough to include black and ethnic minority writers but not white ones. That's right: the 'diverse' category is strictly limited in its diversity - if you're diversely white, forget it.
Seems like they don't understand the meaning of diverse. You can't have a diverse writer. It's like having a diverse bus or a diverse cooker. You need more than one thing to be diverse. Or, that's my understanding. I could be wrong.

But even apart from that, why do we have to separate ourselves into categories all the time? Why should a person's sexuality, race, religion, etc, matter in writing? I'm dead impressed by those people who can paint with their feet, and I can see that it's significant in their case that they're a separate category from other painters. I can also see that the writings of children or people with learning disabilities might be judged differently from those of non-disabled adults.

But are we really suggesting that the only way for black writers to get a break or a fair chance is by creating a separate category for them? What does that indicate about the underlying prejudices of the people who think that's necessary? To my mind, it says that they think white writers are superior and would run off with all the prizes. How patronising and plain wrong is that?

Students 65: Management 0

2009-09-24T01:31:00.000-07:00

For the first time in ages we have a great group of students. They're fairly well-motivated and usually pleasant. Well, that is, they complain endlessly about the cold and other stuff, drink all our coffee without washing up, and one of them disappears periodically for a nap on the settee, another just disappears altogether...but apart from all that and lots more, they are actually quite nice, funny, and we're enjoying teaching them.

So it's a pity that my manager has turned into, well, I'd like to say psycho-bitch but that would make her easier to deal with. If someone's acting like a complete nutter you can do stuff about it but when they start just trying to chip away at your self-confidence and tell you openly that they can't support you in certain situations because other, more influential, people 'have to be kept happy', well, what can you do? Just slink off home and have a few sleepless nights, I suppose.

So, should I just give up on the main teaching job and stay home and write, maybe do a few adult classes for my second string employer? Or is that what she wants me to do?

What's afoot? Definitely more, as John Lennon said, than twelve inches.

Whoops a daisy

2009-09-18T01:23:00.000-07:00

Another report in the paper yesterday about a man following his satnav's instructions to the letter and ending up perched over a drop at a curve in the bridleway he'd driven down. The fact that he was a BMW driver engendered much hilarity and caustic comments, but in fact this happens regularly round here - it's either drivers driving along footpaths or waggon drivers trying to steer their HGVs round tiny corners in hillside lanes that we struggle with in the Jazz. What is it with this people? Are they so seduced by a sexy satnav voice that they disengage their brains when they turn the thing on?

Well, that's the basis of many people's criticisms, but me, I'm saying nothing. Some years ago, after a lovely Elizabethan banquet at a nearby stately home (during which I'd drunk nothing, honest) I was the last one out of the car park. For reasons I've forgotten, but possibly by dint of gormlessness, I turned right where everyone else had turned left. It was very dark and it caused me some concern that the road seemed to be getting narrower and narrower until it was no more than, oh, just a grass footpath really. I did stop and gingerly manouevre the car back round the other way - I didn't like that bit as there were drops on both sides - and go on my way but obviously, it's easily done...

I'm just glad I wasn't driving a BMW to add to my embarrassment.

I've said it before...

2009-09-10T02:48:00.001-07:00

...and I'll say it again: those people at The People's Friend are so lovely! Really, they'd make ideal favourite aunts or next door neighbours or...well, I'd like to see them running the country - a bit of politeness and integrity wouldn't go amiss there, would it?

From a writer's point of view, they may be a little tardy these days making decisions - altho' no tardier than any other mag -but they certainly make up for it in encouraging words and just general loveliness. I'm a big fan.

............................

Barney went for a drink yesterday lunchtime, meaning he was unable to pick me up in the car as he normally does from the station. He decided to make up for this lapse by meeting me on foot at the bus stop, with a welcoming glass of red wine in his hand. Aw, bless.

A bit of a moan, kind of

2009-09-03T09:49:00.000-07:00

So what's new, eh?

I had an interview yesterday for a job at the college which is near my home - still the same kind of job but slightly more money and of course I'd save the train fare. I didn't get it and, to be honest, I wouldn't have given me it either. They asked about how I use IT in teaching - I use it loads: we watch Youtube clips, do interactive exercises, we update the blog, loads of stuff. But at the time the only thing that came into my head was Skillswise, which is like the most basic website literacy teachers use - couldn't think of anything else!

And then today the course that I was going to take at the nearby university next year has been shifted elsewhere, so I can't do that either. Despite the fact that I need the course to continue to be fully qualified, I was already in two minds as my employers reneged on a promise to pay for half of it, but even so I'd have like the chance to make a choice...

Anyway, it frees up a year to study something I'd like to. What shall I do? Italian? Spanish? Maths GCSE? Something crafty? The world's my lobster, as Hilda would say. Can't be Tuesday evenings tho' as that's the day we're taking up jiving lessons. Can't wait!

Benefit Busters

2009-08-29T02:05:00.000-07:00

Have you been watching this?? I'm hooked!

What are they like at A4E?? That poor guy last week who got the job and then was 'let go' after a couple of weeks! The way that old guy spoke to him when he walked out to save himself from death by boredom! The tutor sitting in front of a room full of desperate people without jobs, completing his paperwork!

Where were the basic skills classes? Where was the ICT training? Where was anything except humiliation?

It all makes me so mad. And sad. And outraged. There are people out there milking the system, there's no doubt. There are also lots of people who want jobs, and who are made to sit in a boring room all day looking through the few same job adverts over and over, demotivated and patronised. How does that help them?

Is all publicity good publicity for A4E or will the govt look at the programme and think: hmmm, not such a good system after all. Let's actually give them something to do...

Passive aggression anyone?

2009-08-07T00:47:00.000-07:00

Being passive and being aggressive...hmmm, aren't they mutually exclusive?

Don't you hate it when someone makes up a technical name for something when they could just say sulking or obstructive or obnoxious or just bone idle? For that very reason I've made great use of passive aggressive recently as a term of light-hearted abuse for Barney. Neither of us knows what it means, but it sounds impressively 21st century.

Try this fun quiz to determine whether or not you're affected by any of several personality disorders. Well, I thought it was fun anyway...

Diggin' an 'ole

2009-08-02T02:36:00.000-07:00

We have a hole - well, holes - in the road outside the house, courtesy of the electricity board, or whatever they're called these days. There are many orange barriers which many men come and lean on at various times, gazing into the depths of the holes, looking for...what might they be looking for? There are also road cutters which are revved into action outside Sweetie's bedroom window about 9am and which do not please her one little bit...don't they know it's the school holidays? is the gist of her complaint.

Meanwhile the Guardian reported that in Scotland, 'Louise Brown' (you'd think at 91, she'd merit a 'Miss' or a 'Mrs' before her name) is on the brink of borrowing her 25,000th book from Stranraer library and is running out of large print items to borrow. I'm sure some would direct her to the talking books collection but, while I'm a big fan of talking books, it's not the same, is it? There are times you want reading matter piped directly into your head and times you want to curl up with an actual book. Go on, Stranraer, buy her some more.

Being a woman of few words...

2009-07-25T01:21:00.000-07:00

I sold a story!!

And I was shortlisted in a comp!!

Yippee!!

This Ole House

2009-07-18T01:30:00.000-07:00

Short story writers make use of every little thing that happens in their lives, don't they? That's why we walk round with notebooks in our pockets and pencils behind our ears. So, when Sweetie Pie and her friend started banging about and giggling loudly in the middle of the night I tried to see it as the basis of a story. Honest, I did. And then I fell asleep.

Next morning, without a hint of sheepishness, they asked if I'd heard the noise. Turns out when one of them needed the loo in the night, the door fell off its hinges. It's obviously finally taken its bat home at the regular kickings it took to persuade it to shut. Bottom hinge now hanging by a thread; top one dangling in mid air. Health & Safety R'nt Us.

I went and looked and touched the door, positioned carefully upright like a corpse, and the thing wobbled and fell over. And it was pretty funny.

So...story tie-ins...faulty door representing last straw? relationship spoiled by wife nagging about house faults, door finally falls on idle hubby? noisy kids misjudged? house renovations gone wrong? door represents something else that's wrong?...

And talking of being unhinged: can anyone expain why I requested, on Barney's supermarket list, 2 x chimney breasts?

Rise of zombie-girl

2009-07-11T01:37:00.001-07:00

A MILD sedative, that was what the doctor said he was prescribing for the sleeplessness which was taking away my ability to think. Not sure how mild mild's meant to be, but anything which knocks you out for not only the night but also most of the next day surely doesn't qualify? I sleepwalked through the end of term party, went back to bed in the afternoon and mumbled replies to anyone daft enough to ask me a question, till about teatime.

Barney and Sweetie say they didn't notice any difference.

Don't send this man to the US

2009-07-04T00:47:00.000-07:00

OK, it's embarrassing to be lining up beside the Daily Mail, but if you'd like to keep Gary McKinnon in this country, please visit here.

And there's a touching article, explaining why Mr McKinnon shouldn't be extradited, by Jane Asher, President of the National Autistic Society, here.

Twits

2009-06-27T00:59:00.001-07:00

Do you Twitter?

I'm struggling to understand the usefulness of a system that allows you to say 'I've had a bad day', but without being able to cover why or how or what you might do differently tomorrow. How much satisfaction would you get from that?

If I've had a bad day I want to tell the world in full, with exactly who's done what wrong to whom and what I'd like to do to them. And in return I want sympathy, lots of it. Do you get that on Twitter? Nope.

And if I'm simply 'wishing it was Sunday' (the basis of one Twitter I spotted over Barney's shoulder) - well, I think even I could have had that thought without announcing it to anyone at all. I could just think it, inside my own little head.

Go on, tell me I've missed something and there's more to Twitter than I realise.

Want your story published in the Guardian?

2009-06-20T06:04:00.001-07:00

Okay, well, have a look here to be in with a chance.

But wait...make sure you read the rules first!

I can cope with the only prize being that you get your story published in a major newspaper. It's a free comp and if you're wanting to raise your profile as a writer, or hoping to have a novel ready for sending out soon, that might be a very good thing indeed.

On the other hand, it says in the rules that the winner may be needed for promotional activity and will be responsible for all other costs associated with winning the prize. So, if you live in Aberdeen and suspect the promotional activity might involve a costly trip down to London, I'd give it a miss.

My name is Honeysuckle and I'm a Youtubeaholic

2009-06-13T09:34:00.000-07:00

I really didn't mean to spend two whole hours on Youtube. I meant to plant some baskets up, plan some lessons, mark some work, write a story, strip some walls, maybe make a cake and clear my wardrobe out.

Instead I found myself re-visiting my childhood: Andy Stewart singing A Scottish Soldier, and some guy in a car singing Seven Little Girls. Then I moved on to the Monkees - re-living the many hours I spent in the summer of '67 watching their TV show on a Saturday teatime - and from there to Michael Nesmith, who's as unashamedly Country and Western as my tastes get. Then it was back to Twinkle and Boy of My Dreams - I remembered the long blonde hair but not the way she stood on stage in a frumpy dress, hardly moving. I once sold a story based on Twinkle singing that song, so I suppose it could've been research (albeit after the event). But how do I justify North Sea Gas, Francoise Hardy and Eric Bogle? Not to mention Harry Worth muttering: 'My name is Harry Worth..I don't know why, but there it is...'

Well, I've wasted all that time now. It hardly seems worth starting work at this late hour. I wonder if there's a good version on there of Love Minus Zero? I'll just drop by for a quick look. Just the one, you understand.

New Romantics

2009-06-04T06:10:00.000-07:00

Buster has a girlfriend. Sort of.

What happens is, we take him to the pub or a neighbouring town or somewhere else. And if on one of these jaunts he's spied by his lovely pal Lola, she stomps across to him, plants a hand on each side of his face and kisses him enthusiastically for quite some time. Then she smiles at him and walks away. No words are exchanged. Buster usually emerges from the encounter looking fairly bemused. Occasionally there's a shy, little smile on his face. Once he asked afterwards: Is Lola my girlfriend now?

It probably won't be a lasting relationship, but for now an occasional, sloppy kiss in public seems to be sufficient for both of them. Aw.

No help from the A Team

2009-05-28T01:39:00.000-07:00

After many years of trying to persuade the relevant people to please consider the evidence we were putting before them in terms of his behaviours and obvious anxieties, we've finally got a diagnosis of autism/Asperger's for Buster. He's nearly twenty!

What does this mean for him? Well, very little now. He's living in a small home which is probably as good as any institution's going to be. Probably nothing will change there because the behaviours which have now been given a name were already there and are for the most part (I think/hope!) responded to appropriately.

But how much help might've been available in his early years? The local authority has a dedicated ASD team - maybe they all do.

How lovely to have been able to ask for advice on different issues.

How great to have been able to join a support group.

How wonderful to have been able to use a name for Buster's condition rather than people around thinking he was just miscellaneously strange.

How great it would've been to be able to explain better to Sweetie the reasons for his rages, the fact that he couldn't control his responses, the way his mind might be working. How different might their relationship have been?

Sounds like I think life would've been hunkydory if we'd only known! Not really tho' - life's not easy with any child with disabilities, and many with autism are farther along the spectrum than Buster. But with a bit more knowledge and support we could've done a better job so this morning I just felt like indulging in a few 'if only's.

Give that girl a scrunchie

2009-05-23T12:09:00.000-07:00

My mother was a master of over-statement. It's probably a trait many mothers share, little realising that their tales of chewing gum sticking to ribs and eventually causing some kind of catastrophic blockage, or people getting untold terrible diseases due to walking about with bare midriffs, or some disaster befalling anyone who was foolish enough to sit with their back to the fire - what is it with fires and backs? - are too fantastically over-egged to really register. You knew someone who got double pneumonia from unaired sheets? Yeah, right!

Anyway, this all came to mind this week when I read about the little girl who nearly killed herself through chewing on her hair. Like a cat licking her fur, she'd managed to create the hugest hair ball which was in danger of strangulating her vital organs. Six hours of surgery later and she's out of danger, but this is definitely one for the grandchildren: 'Stop chewing your hair! Don't you know you can kill yourself like that?' Nah, they'd never believe it.

Dog washing machines. Wrong on so many levels.

2009-05-17T01:03:00.000-07:00

I'm probably more of a cat person than a dog person, altho' I like dogs and was as captivated as anyone by the pair of labrador puppies sharing our evening in the pub recently.

So, this caught my attention this week - you may have seen it. Reactions seem to vary from: 'a great idea' through: 'can I put my kid in one?' to: 'get the RSPCA onto him'. Personally I don''t think I'd like being shut in a metal tub and having soapy water thrown over me, even if it was followed by a balmy breeze electronically wafting me dry.

Actually, you could just stop that sentence at not liking to be shut in a metal tub. Who would?

Copyright

2009-05-09T01:09:00.000-07:00

I am such a goody goody when it comes to copyright. It's not just the fines if you're found out, it's the embarrassment and the fact it's just plain wrong to steal someone's work. No wonder so few writers can make a living from writing. Anyway, like I say, I'm a goody goody.

But...I'll come clean. My Weekly - possibly last week's now, I'm not sure - has an article about writer Lorraine Jenkin setting off for South America, which would be brilliant for my literacy students. Interesting, nice photos, etc. Except, of course, it's much too hard for them to read, so I need to abridge it. Savagely. And, being the polite person I am, I'd like to know that's okay. But can I find a contact for this lady? No, I can't. Can I find a dept at My Weekly that seems remotely interested in copyright? No I can't.

Not sure why I'm worrying seeing as my writing has no single sentence in common with the original and there's no copyright in ideas, but I'd like to take the mag in and say: this is about this lady, shall we read our version? without even a smidgeon of doubt about the legality of it. Why does that have to be so hard to organise?

Sometimes you reach a fork in the road...

2009-05-04T04:00:00.000-07:00

Well, that was an unintentionally prophetic statement about 'going it alone' a couple of posts back. Yesterday there were big changes on the writing group front resulting in me leaving the email group I've been a member of for several years. 'This wasn't just any email writing group, this was...' etc - you get the picture. Sometimes things just come to the end of the road tho' and a quick break is less painful than a resentment-filled, more protracted one.

Loads of nice things and warm support to look back on - I'd never have been published at all, I'm sure, without this group of women behind me. And some of us remain firm friends with intentions to keep on supporting and keep on writing. A win-win, I hope, for everybody.

If you sometimes feel ever so slightly sorry for yourself

2009-04-25T10:51:00.002-07:00

- and obviously it's a bit of a speciality of mine - you might like to check out Rosie's blog.

To be or not to be PC

2009-04-25T10:51:00.001-07:00

It seems like everyone's falling over themselves these days to take offence at some minor infrigement of the PC rules, so when I realised that one of the assessments I was planning to give my Pakistani students had a pet dog in it I wondered what I should do. Would they really, as Muslims, be offended by just a picture of a dog? Certainly the staff who observed my last year's training classes would regard it as 'culturally insensitive' but they tend to be over the top and I'm not sure we should kowtow to nutters.
In the end, I did the only sensible thing and copped out. I didn't change the questions but I haven't used them either. Not till there's some definitive answer, or preferably precedent, that doesn't involve people being given warnings or losing newly acquired jobs.

Entered this competition this week. Don't know anything about it, but sometimes that random element makes it all the more fun.

Writing mags

2009-04-19T01:19:00.000-07:00

It was when I realised that the Writing Magazine I'd just picked off my 'unread' pile dated back to 2007 that I decided it was probably time to unsubscribe. But what's frustrating is that this means also giving up Writers' News - which I do read - because, of course, the two of them come as a package. Why??
This seems so perverse to me. Sainsbury's don't make me buy bread before they'll sell me butter. The local chippie's happy for me to have just a fishcake or a small carton of curry sauce - I'm not obliged to take unrequired mushy peas as well.
Weird. Anyway, I've taken the plunge. I'm going it alone. Which should leave me a bit more time for actually writing.

Singing trees and sadness

2009-04-13T05:47:00.000-07:00

Well, the week off did the trick, thanks, and we've had a couple of days out locally this weekend. Yesterday we went to see a panopticon - its more descriptive name is the Singing Ringing Tree - very Enid Blyton. It only sings in the wind, so was very subdued yesterday. Silent even.

Time to get back to work...

I decided I'd change my play idea into a story, and to offer it to WW as a serial. Seeing as I've only ever sold them one story that's probably - almost certainly - pushing my luck. But still, it's good to have an aim. Further to Pat's recent post - I think it was Pat - about getting to know characters, I dutifully wrote a half page on each of the characters and - as if by magic! - more plotline elements presented themselves. Brilliant! I must do more of this getting to know the characters. Sadly, now a story which was going to be light-hearted with odd touches of pathos is in danger of becoming 98% heartbreak. Must rein that in. I'm not sure how other people manage this because it seems to me that the further you find out about anyone, real or imaginery, the more sadness you unveil. Most people have regrets or tragedies or events that make them feel at best winsome and at worst suicidal, in their history. And that's what seems to attract me. Wow, miserable or what? and this is me when I've got a grip!

So, can you write light-hearted stuff and still have fully-formed characters? I'm not sure that the characters in all the TV sitcoms are fully-rounded, are they?

The embarrassment...

2009-04-05T01:17:00.000-07:00

A week ago I had a day off. A day's sick leave. And nowadays when you return to work you have to have a Return To Work Interview. This is dressed up as a benign, can-we-help-you-in-any-way thing but really it's designed to stop you from having the day off in the first place. Or to think twice next time. Obviously it'll be most effective with those people who feel gulty ringing in sick even when they've got raging appendicitis, while the ones who take a day off to go shopping with their bezzy mate will carry off their fibs with aplomb as usual. That's life, I suppose. But I digress...

Anyway, I had this day off sick, and on Thursday I had my return to work interview. Well, things have been pretty stressful for...well, ever since I started work there, and what happened, I got into the interview, and cried. I actually cried in the bloody return to work interview!

So, now my line manager thinks I'm an over-emotional nutcase. I could see her shrinking backwards from the table and gazing at me with wide eyes full of horror. I think she was very glad indeed that I have a week's holiday scheduled for next week. Me too. I need time to live it down.

Hope you all have a lovely, chocolatey Easter.

All quiet on the teaching front. Or not, as the case may be.

2009-03-30T12:01:00.000-07:00

Well, 2009 has been rubbish for me so far writing-wise! Probably Mars and Pluto up to their old tricks but honestly, how long does a Cancerian have to wait for a favourable heavenly wotsit?

And on the teaching front - just as bad! - a series of misadventures among the students involving suicide threats, drug dealers hanging round, self harm, petty theft, and final warnings, has made life interesting to say the least. Bring back the calm old days. I'm assured that the Asian ladies I'm soon going to be teaching for 4 hours a week will be a doddle to someone used to dealing with disaffected youth. Let's hope so...

Everything's ticketyboo

2009-03-13T11:50:00.000-07:00

Aren't some words just lovely? And isn't 'ticketyboo' chief among them? A Flanders and Swan kind of word, if ever I heard one. Doesn't saying it instantly lighten your mood?

What about licketysplickly? How fantastic a word is that? And which singer-songwriter managed to get licketysplickly into his song lyrics? (I'm assuming there's just the one, but who knows? Maybe it's a lyrical regular...)

There must be dozens - peripatetic's nice; frilly - I quite like the simplicity of that; perspicacity... Oh, I can feel a visit to the freerice site coming on...

I'm writing! Or am I?

2009-03-08T00:53:00.000-08:00

Why do fictional characters taken on a life of their own? How do they do it? They're make-believe, right? They shouldn't be able to do that. When writers say stuff about characters deciding on their own lines and adding levels to their own personalities, I tend to huff and puff about affectation and literary arty-fartiness.
But I've just had a germ of an idea - this in itself is a rarity. Well, more than a germ; I knew exactly what I was going to write. And it's taken on a life of its own. The minor supporting strand has become the main feature. The main plot's been shelved for another day and, even at that point, maybe some other idea will barge it out of the way? (Given that the main idea heavily featured grumpy dustbinmen, maybe that's not too bad a thing?)
It's a bit like automatic writing, aided by some long-gone spirit of a writing antecedent. Well, bring it on!

Not everyone's truth is the same

2009-02-21T06:35:00.001-08:00

If there's one thing guaranteed to raise my blood pressure it's the tale of yet another mother who's selflessly decided to keep and look after her disabled child and - give them a medal, someone - now thinks that child is the best thing since sliced bread and writes their disability-enhanced life story in the Mail or The Guardian. I'm pretty sure that usually these stories have their hearts in the right place - showing the population at large that children and people with disabilities are actually all individuals just like the rest of us is good. But still they make my blood boil...

All too often there's a tendency to over-egg the 'Hey, it's a great life' pudding, and I find myself wanting to write in and say, actually, it's not always fun bringing up a disabled child. I love my learning-disabled son to bits, not just because I'm his mum but because there are lots of very lovable things about him - he's enthusiastic, affectionate, polite, funny and often kind. He offers insults and compliments with the same disarming honesty because he doesn't know how else to be but straight with you. Now that I'm not faced with always having to be at his command I see how truly lovely he is and I'm happy when we meet with him at the weekends.

But bringing up a disabled child isn't always fun so why give people the impression that it is? It's not fun if yours is the one who never stops moving, who wants entertaining all day after a sleepless night, when you're dead on your feet and just want to nap. When you have the one who can't walk but is becoming too heavy to carry up to bed at night. When you're a dad needing to take out your un-toilet-trained twelve year old girl. When their temper's uncertain and you're passing a group of young lads who might be okay but equally might rise to the bait of your youngster's anxiety-fueled aggro. When school's cancelled at the last minute and you're suddenly panic-stricken, wondering how to fill another day. Or worse, when he hates the respite place and you just can't bring yourself to send him for that overnight stay even tho' you know that another night without peace and quiet is going to put a load more stress on you and the rest of the family.

How is any of that fun? Is it me? Am I missing something? In our case, my daughter had depression and IBS for the two years before her big brother moved out. How do you put positive spin on that? Despite his overall loveliness, Buster was, as a child, iron-willed and constantly demanding and, as a young person, capable of some pretty bad/physical/dangerous behaviour.

But quite apart from all that, what sort of effect do these writers have on people who are struggling with their lives? The ones who don't always see the sunny side because life's so flippin' hard? Just like talking about someone battling cancer and defeating it can make others who 'battled ' it without success feel worse about themselves (obviously didn't battle hard enough!), those articles can make good, caring people feel like bad parents. 'Hey, you just have to love enough and have a sunny enough disposition and you'll be fine. I managed it, why can't you?' - that's what they seem to be saying.

Makes me cross. Can you tell??

Cheeky boy...

2009-02-18T12:59:00.000-08:00

One of my students reminds me of Cliff Michelmore. Reputedly 17, he looks and dresses at least 65, has Cliff's hairstyle and general demeanour, the only obvious difference being a very dry sense of humour. All things considered, therefore, I took it pretty well when he looked me up and down recently and advised me kindly: 'Honeysuckle, don't wear those clothes tomorrow; they're not very 21st century.'

And then he shuffled off to watch some more trains.

Snow days and bouquets

2009-02-13T14:16:00.000-08:00

Last week I worked everyday, despite ice and snow and a two mile walk to the train station. On two days I was the only member of staff in the place because no one else could get in. I'm not one to complain but it would've been more comfortable without the power cut which turned off the central heating, but hey ho...

Anyway, Tesco have caused a furore by expecting their snowbound staff to pay back the time. Another place is expecting staff to pay back time even tho' the place itself had closed. (Huh?) I can kind of see the thinking but - Moses! - who'd be a parent of school-age children when the snowflakes start flying?

So, for the future, this is my proposal:

All teachers, by law, have to live within walkable distance of the school they teach at.

All schools which close for a day due to snow, have to open for a different day some other time during the year, because it's hard enough already finding and paying for childcare for thirteen school holiday weeks, when mum and dad only have four weeks holiday apiece, without having extra days tagged on.

All school approach roads will be gritted first. (Second will be the pavements around old people's homes.)

All people who genuinely can't get into work because of either bad weather or school closures get paid as usual.

All those who actually manage to turn up day in, day out without even a word of thanks (and what I find is that those snowed in at home get sympathy for their plight. Sympathy. How does that work? You can't come to work today? You're having to snuggle up with a pint of hot chocolate in front of Pingu? - you poor thing...). Where was I? Yes, those of us who make it in should, in addition, get a bunch of flowers from The Management. Just a gesture, that's all. Just a little 'hey, you did a great job'.

So, is that agreed then?

What do story ideas and hamsters have in common?

2009-02-01T01:17:00.001-08:00

They're both nocturnal.

Plots, characters and settings slumber their way through daylight hours. Then at 3 am they wake me up partying hard - 'hey, look at us, we've got streamers, balloons, exotic locations, unbelievably clever twists and a few cliff-hangers! Come and play!'

Well, y'know, at 3am I can't even be persuaded to reach for the obligatory notebook at the side of the bed. And the last smidgeon of a story idea that now remains with me is something about a wronged wife being told by her ne'er-do-well husband that she looked like a white rhino.

I think it needs work before I send it off to TAB.

If you could be...

2009-01-24T11:54:00.000-08:00

...a different writer, who would you be?

I think I'd be Lucy Mangan, who writes a column in the Guardian Weekend Magazine on Saturdays. I don't want to live with Toryboy. Well, it's not like he's offered. Or like I know who he is. And, come to that, I'm not keen on the idea of a dad who doesn't know my name. But I'd love to be able to effortlessly put together long, clever sentences and display all my weirdnesses in a funny way instead of a way that just makes people think I'm...well, weird.

Who'd you choose?

Being writerly, in a disparate kind of way

2009-01-10T11:45:00.001-08:00

That's what I'm doing tonight - probably as a result of crummy Saturday night TV and trawling through, for the first time, the new Writers' News. First trawl: I mark stuff and fold corners down. Second trawl: I deal with whatever it was I was intending to look into further. Second trawl takes forever and sometimes never gets done or at least not till the comps are out of date etc. But that's not going to happen this time. Oh no, sirree.

Where was I? Oh, yes, writerly stuff. Okay...

1. Does anyone know what happened to Shortalk? I uploaded some stories for consideration, never heard a sausage and now, while the website's still up, the latest blog entry dates from about a year ago, I think. I'm sure some people said they'd had official acceptances...anyone in the know??

And...

2. Does everyone subscribe to Marian Keyes' mad newsletter updates? You probably do already, I'm sure. She's wonderfully bonkers but so entertaining and lovely. If perchance you haven't subscribed so far...well, get along to mariankeyes.com and just do it. It's like having your mad sister write you a lovely, long, chatty letter. If you haven't got a chatty, letter-writing sister, it's doubly great.

A small, sad yippee...

2009-01-09T00:50:00.000-08:00

...goes to the Parliamentary and Health Ombudsman who, according to the Daily Mail (I know, the Daily Mail! I'm sorry...) is going to deliver a 'withering verdict' in her report, supporting Mencap in their concerns about the treatment of learning disabled people in hopsital.

The 'yippee' is, sadly, inappropriate because, in the lead-up to the ombudsman's input, so many learning disabled people have died unsupported and ignored in NHS hospitals. Mencap's own report, Death by Indifference, had me in tears when I originally read it.

See here for more info.

Best not hold our breath waiting for things to change tho'.

Happy New Year

2009-01-02T00:49:00.000-08:00

And it's back to the daily grind of trying to come across as a normal person...Ever feel like that? No? Oh, it's just me then...

Over Christmas I was introduced to a gentleman whose name denoted a kind of fabric - not Serge; think Velvet, Tweed, Hessian, something that was a bit unusual. My brain, like the robot in Lost in Space, was totally unable to process this: Does Not Compute. I stared at him in confusion for what seemed like several minutes, till he said kindly: You can call me Peter, if it's easier.

So, what has the new year in store for you? Personally I'm considering happy pills and/or HRT. I need my bloom back. And my memory. And my decision-making processes. Where have they all gone? Same place as all the flowers? Who knows?

Oh, how they've changed

2008-12-21T00:58:00.000-08:00

For four days over the Christmas break we're staying in a Youth Hostel with extended family. We have the whole thing to ourselves - all 29 beds and massive kitchen, real fire augmented by recently installed central heating. All supplemented nicely by a real ale pub in the village. Youth Hostels have changed a bit since my youth. More than a bit, really. Many a summer's morning I had to clean out the toilet block before being allowed to collect my card and head off. I ALWAYS got the toilets.

Anyway, now is the time to say goodbye...as Pete and Dud would say. See you after Christmas. Hope you all have a fabulous time.

A bit of shameless self-promotion, or...

2008-12-12T07:58:00.001-08:00

...I sold a story! Yippee!

I don't want to be uncool about this, but it seems to have been so long!! - well, to be fair, I haven't been sending off much in the last eighteen months but still, lovely to sell just before Christmas. And even nicer to sell to the lovely Jill Finlay at The Weekly News.

A while ago, in a discussion on writerly etiquette, someone more experienced than me said they didn't thank editors for buying their stuff, as it was a 'professional transaction'. Or words to that effect. With this in mind - and I can't quite bring myself not to say thanks at all - I limited myself to a very prim 'Thanks very much' when what I wanted to say was: 'Yay, you're such a sweetheart!' Or something like that. Still, don't want to scare her off, do I, so probably best I didn't.

Oh what a tangled web...

2008-11-30T00:55:00.000-08:00

I'm useless at lying, but for the last two or three years I've been blogging without the knowledge of my family and friends. Well, apart from the friends I've met through the blog, obviously. Now, it's getting to the stage where, as soon as a conversation turns to things technological, I get prickly heat just trying to remember what camp someone's in - do they know? do they not? does it matter?

It was never meant to be like this...I started the transition blog anonymously because Buster would've hated me writing about him. And probably Barney might have too. So it was kind of a discretion/respect kind of thing. And then when I started this one it seemed sensible to stick with Honeysuckle. And now I'm in a pickle because home and virtual lives are interlinking and the people who know me best are excluded from one whole area of my life and...

Time to come clean?

Anyone else living a double life?

Being watched

2008-11-17T11:32:00.001-08:00

My first observation today since I've been fully-fledged. This is how it went:

...well actually, just don't ask. There were elements of :

*lateness (we started the class on time with just one student)

*poor communication (I was expecting him for the more endearing morning class; he arrived for the unenthusiastic afternoon class)

*unwarranted cannine visitations (two students arrived with a dog in tow - huh??)

*cannabis (by the time I got my verbal feedback at 3pm the observer was complaining of feeling woozy, having spent an hour breathing in the druggy fumes coming off the two boys opposite him).

So, apparently I'm just satisfactory with good aspects.
'But I wanted to be totally good!' I wailed pathetically. He just breathed the cannabis right back at me and stumbled out into the rain.

Fully-fledged what?

2008-11-06T03:56:00.001-08:00

Fully-fledged teacher, that's me. Yes, indeedy. Much to my surprise.
And hff was meant to be a blog on teaching and writing, altho' so far there's precious little of either in evidence...

A letter in this month's Writing Magazine tho' really brought out the newly-trained teacher in me. Jacquie Seddon from London wrote to the mag to say that, having taken up writing after years of drug addiction and other difficult stuff, her first assignment 'came back marked poor'.
POOR? Who marks someone's first assignment as poor? What happened to medals and missions? Things to work on? Areas for development? First rule: don't tell someone they're crap at something; suggest ways they might improve their performance.

Well, okay, she went on to get three 'excellents' (it's all very black and white with this tutor, isn't it?) and has been on an upward path ever since. And I'm glad because a lesser person could well have thrown the towel in after that first assignment. Good on you, Jacquie. Poor indeed!

Just go to the doctor, why don't you?

2008-11-01T05:33:00.001-07:00

Bo gleefully told me, now that The Sex Education Show has come to an end, she's found another programme for us to watch: Embarrassing Teenage Bodies. Now, don't get the wrong idea, but I really liked TSES. It was non-salacious; the presenter was cheerful, non-judgmental and willing to undergo intimate procedures on our behalf; it allowed Bo and me to watch together, affording her the chance to fill in the gaps in my knowledge.

But have you seen ETB? What is going on there exactly? - gurning presenters; pus-filled tongue piercings; too-sudden-switches to close-ups of fat-reducing surgery. Oh, yucky! Give me a break, do.

And the question I'm left with is this: what is it with teenagers who are too embarrassed one minute to even consult their GP over their condition, but the next minute are willing to undress and display their bits for the entire nation to gawp at?
Just don't get it.

Me Me Me Me Me...

2008-10-19T04:44:00.000-07:00

Thanks, Womag, for passing on this meme. (And wow, look at that, I even uploaded the image!)

Just one word answers tho'...I can't go for that, no can do. (Okay, if you don't remember the song, that would sound really iffy. Maybe it would anyway.)

1. Where is your cell phone? In my bag - switched off, as usual.

2. Where is your significant other? Car.

3. Your hair colour? Red, at the moment.

4. Your mother? Sadly dear departed.

5. Your father? Also sadly dear departed - way too long ago.

6. Your favourite thing? Daydreaming.

7. Your dream last night? Forgotten.

8. Your dream/goal? Happiness.

9. The room you're in? In turmoil - being decorated.

10. Your hobby? Writing! (I'll just stick with Womag here, I think.)

11. Your fear? Being required to do something brave in order to save someone dear to me, and the likely failure on my part to succeed.

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Here.

13. Where were you last night? Here, mostly.

14. What you're not? Clever, interesting, oh, don't get me started...

15. One of your wish-list items? Can't think of anything very material but a lovely holiday would be...lovely.

16. Where you grew up? Spen Valley.

17. The last thing you did? Planned a literacy lesson.

18. What are you wearing? Dressing gown and pyjamas.

19. Your TV? Portable.

20. Your pets? Rabbit and two guinea pigs.

21. Your computer? Working, thanks.

22. Your mood? Guilty.

23. Missing someone? Yes.

24. Your car? About to be sold.

25. Something you're not wearing? Top hat.

26.Favourite store? Junk shop.

27. Your summer? Stressful.

28. Love someone? Yes.

29. Your favourite colour? Yellow.

30. When is the last time you laughed? Possibly yesterday.

31. Last time you cried? Friday - I made the mistake of playing Slipping Through My Fingers on Youtube.

I can't believe there's anyone left who hasn't done this already. Will have to have a think...

Quiz time

2008-10-17T04:34:00.000-07:00

This is a quiz to assess your Asperger's leanings - it's been on loads of blogs in the past but if you haven't already tried it, have a go. My family and friends all turned out to be gloriously normal whereas Barney had a range of Aspie and neurotypical traits, and I was 'very likely an Aspie'. So, he's weird, but I'm weirder. Yah boo.

I started filling in online self-tests on Buster's behalf, altho' it wasn't very helpful once-removed - I don't know how Buster thinks all the time - but meantime I kept coming across questions that made me go: 'What? That's me! How did they know that?' or, in Johnny Cash's words: 'You been reading my mail.'

If you've ever felt like you've just dropped in from Mars or Lithuania, and you don't know the local customs and appropriate responses, have a look.

Just look anyway. It's interesting. It's fun. Just do it.

Foot - mouth: mouth - foot...

2008-10-09T11:56:00.000-07:00

...as Tommy Cooper could've said, but probably didn't.

At the Centre, we have a wide variety of students with an equally wide variety of problems. Some just haven't fared well in mainstream; some have had too many family issues to deal with too young; some have specific learning difficulties; some have mental health problems. Bearing the latter in mind, it was probably unwise of me to murmur "nutter!" affectionately at one young lad -a lad I like a lot - when he said something funny and unexpected.

I realised about half a second too late that he'd been referred that very morning to the local mental health facility, and stuttered a retraction gormlessly while he grinned at me.

Whoops.

Ho hum and avoiding demands

2008-10-05T01:04:00.001-07:00

September 26th, that last post was dated. Over a week since, and what's been happening in the meantime? Well, little bits of nothing here and there really. Barney has taken to being home like anyone who's hated his work for the past ten years or so would. He makes meals; he ferries us here and there; he sweeps up. The other day I realised he'd cleaned the kettle. I didn't even know kettles were meant to be cleaned.

At work, we assessed a young man with PDA for a place on the course. What do you mean you've never heard of it? It stands for Pathological Demand Avoidance. One careers advisor described it as being 'an awkward so and so'. It's related to autism and Asperger's, but unfortunately doesn't respond to the techniques that usually work with young people with those conditions. (I questioned him closely about how we could help but didn't get much information. If there's anyone out there knows anything about teaching students with PDA...help!)

I don't really know what to make of this...how far can we go giving names to collections of symptoms that are only collectively experienced by a very small number of people? And PDA is really pretty rare. On the other hand, if this young man and his family experience real difficulties because of these symptoms, and if there are ways of enabling him to learn despite them, then we should make whatever allowances are possible and reasonable to accommodate him.

I think the problem that might arise with this situation is that the allowances we'll have to make will mean him maybe not having to do stuff which other students are already doing very reluctantly anyway. We could end up with a whole class of them claiming PDA and telling us how difficult they find the demands of life's routines and rules. I think I might have a touch of it myself.

Shay moments

2008-09-26T09:37:00.000-07:00

Barney, not knowing I've seen it before, has just forwarded to me the email that's been doing the rounds for a few years now about the disabled boy, Shay, and the baseball game incident.

We've had one or two little Shay moments of our own. Probably anyone with a disabled child has.

I always thought if I ever wrote a book I'd dedicate it to the lovely, elderly man in Linton who, years ago, took the trouble to come over to our table as I waited for Barney and four-year-old Buster to return from the toilets. The pub we were in, empty when we arrived, was by now heaving with blue rinse ladies trailing expensive scents and self-important attitudes, and I'd been feeling stressed about Buster in this company and the real possibility of a glass going flying or the table over-turning or sausage fat ending up on an alien tweed coat.
Anyway this gentleman came across. 'Do you mind me asking how old your little boy is?' he started, and then went on to detail quietly how much he'd enjoyed seeing Buster eating his meal (he's always eaten with gusto), how well-behaved he'd been and how the whole experience had 'made his day'. It was unfortunate that, recognising this as an unexpected act of kindness, I then found myself unable to speak for a few minutes and I hope he realised that what I really wanted to do, rather than just force out a choked 'thank you', was to kiss him.

It's not just adults tho'. I've probably mentioned before that Buster's Junior School teacher told us about him being allowed, in a one-off inter-school soccer match, to take a penalty. Normally Buster wouldn't even be invited to play football due to his slowness and lack of skill. Anyway, he took the penalty and when he scored, both sides - his schoolfriends and those who didn't know him from Adam - cheered. Aw.

There are probably lots of these tiny incidents happening every day. Lovely things that strangers do through an instinct to help or support or something. It's not linked to class or intelligence or age. It just is. And when you come across it, it's heartwarming.

Making a lot of feetmark, as my mum would've said

2008-09-21T03:58:00.000-07:00

I think it would be true to say I make heavy weather of life. I make heavy weather of all its constituent parts (driving, say, or travelling on trains, going up stepladders, ringing people up, you name it...) and of life as a whole - sometimes you think: what for?

Just recently the buggeration factor has staged a take-over. I'm caught, it seems anyway - maybe I'm overstating (how would I know?) - in the middle of two or three arguments that are not at all of my making; they landed slap bang on top of me like poo from a pigeon. Homed in on me, even. Now is that fair or not? Not, I'd say. And buggeration on top of heavy weather is, well, y'know, a bit depressing.

There's stuff at work, there's stuff at Buster's home, there's stuff elsewhere. What am I? - Argument Central? Am I sending some subconscious cosmic message that I love a good scrap? I don't. I really must start checking out that meditation stuff. If ever a body was in need of a good meditate, it's me, now.

The Recovery Position

2008-09-17T22:22:00.002-07:00

So, the situation is this:

For a while I've been thinking it odd that my new colleague was making small. unilateral decisions; that she'd appointed herself spokesperson in certain situations; that our admin assistant treated her slightly differently. But it was all stuff so little that I convinced myself that I was imagining it. You know what writers are like for imagining things? At the same time, I've been giving my all to the job, working in rubbish conditions and thinking that it'd all get sorted if I just hung on.

And then yesterday she told me that, although it was 'meant nothing really', she'd actually been appointed Team Manager! Last straw. Red rag. Cue one very angry email to management detailing my grievances. Did they really think I'd have spent so much of my own time on the job if I'd known? Did they think they'd acted professionally over this? On and on and on. Oh, it was proper shouty - capital letters, the lot.

Five minutes later, I got a reply email - no, it was all a mistake. There was no Team Manager's job, someone on management had made an honest mistake. A big, honest mistake.

So, now. Will there be one person in this situation who doesn't feel a fool? My colleague has been told she's the boss and therefore acting the part, and now she'll be told she's not. The management team just look incompetent. And me, well, I lost my temper over something that turned out to be wrong, so all that prima donna huffing and puffing was in vain. Oh, woe is all of us; Monday will be interesting as we try to rearrange ourselves and jiggle our way back to normality, each of us struggling to retain as much dignity as possible.

In another incident, tho', a newish student, one of the more civilised ones, after witnessing me fielding a lengthy verbal abuse situation earlier in the morning, asked to speak to me in the office.
'I know the students give you a hard time in this job,' he said, 'but I want you to know, I think you're really nice for doing it.'

Oh, calamity

2008-09-07T01:10:00.000-07:00

What are these scientists up to? Just re-creating the Big Bang so we can all disappear in a black hole of our own making, that's all! Madness. It's fine, of course, they're not really expecting that to happen. Well, there's only a very small chance...y'know, not enough to worry about.

I'm telling you this is a bad idea. Circumspection would be a very, very good thing here. Scientists aren't circumspect - they make bombs, and drugs that have devastating side effects, and stuff that causes pollution, and it'll all turn round and bite us on the bum one day.
We don't advance through science, we just create a different set of problems. Wipe out one devastating disease and you get another in its place. Like the police trying to stay one step ahead of the criminals, we try to get the better of nature - and we do for a brief moment - but then she hits us with something else because she's cleverer than us.

It's not knowledge we need, it's kindness.

Anyway, this experiment. Today one of the critics is quoted as saying that if it has the effect they fear then nothing will happen for four years and then stuff will start going catastrophically awry. So, let's see, four years - that'll be 2012. The very year that the ancient civilisations always said the world would end.

Rain-lashed Tod

2008-09-07T00:53:00.001-07:00

Well, I had a great time on Friday morning sharing coffees and writing tales with a couple of lovely, local writers - Pat and Shirley. And yup, next time we'll make it to the pub. And we'll order some sunshine in advance...
Of course, in some ways I'm a fraud as I've written so little this year (a PGCE takes up about 98% of the week!) but I'm going to get back to it, really I am.
Pat, I'm enjoying Sunlight on Shadows - thanks very much. I particularly appreciated it in the station waiting room, when I'd arrived to find my train just disappearing down the track...your story offered a lovely way to while away a spare half-hour.

A cunning plan

2008-08-31T01:00:00.000-07:00

Not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to start decorating the living room three days before I started a new job, but it was probably the totally correct feeling that if I didn't start at that point then I probably wouldn't start at all until I retire in a few years' time. So now, two weeks later, we have one and a half stripped walls, one newly painted section of ceiling and a bit of plaster patching completed on the windowsill. Everything else still awaiting attention: very many small items dumped in boxes and carriers, very many shelves upturned along corridor, table dumped in hallway, settees covered in loose bubble wrap (nearest thing to hand at the time). I'm not a tidy or a speedy worker. And the chimney breast turns out to be damp - huge surprise there, as you can imagine. As this means that the wallpaper strips off with very little help from me I'm taking it as a positive.

Have been advised to sell the house with outline planning permission for conversion into two dwellings - one ground floor, one first floor - which would allow a builder to totally block off the staircase area, which is the most badly affected by damp. This should cover all the angles - we could sell without feeling we were foisting a dodgy house onto some unsuspecting innocent, and both we and the buyer/developer might possibly get a reasonable deal. It might work!

Whoops, don't go getting optimistic - you know what happens when you get optimistic...

Happy (Bank Holiday) Mondays

2008-08-23T01:38:00.000-07:00

My new job is nuts! Students who turn up apparently stoned, very little in the way of resources and scruffy, isolated accommodation which seems to suggest to already disadvantaged young people that that's all they deserve or can be trusted with (that latter bit might be true - we'll have to work on it). Wonder whether I'll beat the last tutor's few short months in the post?

Anyway, Bank Holiday weekend so I'm going to try and find time to enter the Words Mag union members' comp - closing date is 30th August, so I'll have to get my skates on. Not much writing, reading or well, anything much, getting done lately.

Hope you all have a fabulous weekend in the sunshine.

Cobwebs, jobs and hot chocolate

2008-08-16T01:02:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm a fully fledged, bona fide teacher I've had to get a job, so I start Monday teaching basic skills to young people who've offended. I suspect this might not be a terrifically easy gaffe - it won't be all sweetness and charm (on their part anyway, I'm sweetness personnified...) or even the benign stoicism you often get with adult groups - but it's similar to what I did on part of my teaching practice and I'm looking forward to it in a 'what was I thinking of - I can't do this!' kind of way.

The school holidays rumble on with Sweetie Pie rising at noon most days and then, if she has sufficient energy, arranging to meet a friend for hot chocolate in town towards the end of the afternoon. Meanwhile, I'm doing a little painting in my last remnants of spare time, disturbing cobwebs that would be awarded squatters' rights if they lingered any longer on the picture rail and bravely dealing with spiders who think it's already September. We've put so many outside these last few days I'm hoping they don't have a homing instinct.

See ya when I'm not only fully fledged, but practising too...

The best laid plans

2008-08-10T01:18:00.000-07:00

Well, last week didn't go quite as well as we'd hoped. Family dynamics, dismal weather (thick fog, lashings of rain) and illness all played their part. Buster requires more attention than is fair to Sweetie Pie, who's fourteen and therefore unlikely in any case to enjoy a family holiday at all, let alone one on a caravan site in the rain-soaked UK. I did what I could to alleviate the situation for her - I paid inordinate amounts of money for a week's internet access from her laptop and for a couple of spa treatments, but what cheered her up most was getting her bum squeezed by a passing lad in the entertainment centre.

Me: You should've turned round and slapped him.

Sweetie: Are you mad? I liked it!

I think maybe there was a mix-up at the hospital...

..........................................................................

What do the following have in common?

Barry White Line

Porter Waggon-er

50 (per) Cent

They're all my (ingenious, I think you'll agree) attempts at concocting names of celebs from things we passed on the holiday car journey. Barney's, Buster's and Sweetie Pie's contributions obviously weren't quite as high-class as mine but oh, how we laughed, as they say. See, it really doesn't take much to make us happy.
............................................................................

The high point of the week tho' came the day we walked on the beach to Embleton and lunched at the pub. Usually when we go to a pub we're the worst family there - the family that everyone else looks at thinking, why did they come along spoiling our peace with their bad vibes and truculence? On this particular day tho' there was a family even more snarly and scratchy than us. They had the two best behaved little boys ever, but kept telling them off for misdemeanors indiscernible to other diners. Finally, grumpy dad stood up and yelled very loudly at mum:
'Stop sitting there like flippin' Winston Churchill, barking out your orders! Go and sit in the corner!'
Sweetie Pie and I exchanged glances and what started as muffled giggling ended up as something a bit rowdier. Not sure what Winston Churchill thought of us but for once we were very, very proud to seem almost normal by comparison...

We're all going on a...

2008-08-01T09:23:00.000-07:00

...Summer Holiday.

No pressure, no waiting for flights, no claustrophobia on the car deck, just a few moderate walks and a few good pub lunches.

See you in a week or so...

And I'd like to thank...

2008-07-31T01:07:00.000-07:00

...the wonderful and very kind Casdok, for the lovely award. I understand (thanks for the help, Maddie Moon!) that tradition deems I should now pass this on to someone else but at present I'm still tangling with actually copying it to my page. I'm such a dummy, but I will get there, I will, I will....

Wet, wet, wet (or 'damp and blast')

2008-07-25T11:47:00.000-07:00

If you're ever inclined to buy an old house which is built into the hillside on three sides, don't do it. Unless it's our house. In which case, do.

'Why is the wall wet?' That was Sweetie Pie on her way upstairs, unwittingly presenting to us the news that the stairs wall is - well, not just damp. Damper than that. If it were any damper it'd be a river. And in the middle of this vertical marshland is the light switch. Now turned off for the foreseeable future.

Yikes. I foresee a visit from the builder and a very big bill. Another one.

Houses? On hillsides? Nope. Avoid them.

Summertime and the living is easy

2008-07-20T23:41:00.000-07:00

For fourteen year old Sweetie Pie at least. She's still snoozing and may well still be when I return from my now voluntary stint at the centre. Six weeks of late nights and late mornings. Her main problem at the moment seems to be that, as oldish parents, we can't stay up late enough for her and she's not yet that keen on staying up on her own when all is dark, so she stomps off grumpily to her bedroom with her laptop and her cup of tea.

Buster, meanwhile, has finished school. We went along to the very touching Leavers' Assembly last Friday. He'd been dreading the day as he feels (and he's probably right) that he'll lose touch with a lot of his friends. All the young people at his school are moderately to severely disabled and their parents don't always know each other so getting the young people together outside school is difficult. Invitations to birthday parties go unacknowledged. Tricky. We'll see what the future holds when he starts at the local college in September - a college I'm also hoping to get some hours at...

Hope you all have a brilliant summer.

A very little tale of a very small amount of woe

2008-07-12T22:11:00.000-07:00

As Womagwriter has mentioned the My Weekly guidelines recently I thought I'd share my own tiny tale about submitting Christmas stories to them from last year.

Well, basically, the nutshell version is that having sent a Christmas story to them in May or some such ridiculously early month, I was finally told in November, after they'd been requesting timely tales and when it was too late to send elsewhere, that they'd been inundated and so they'd have to return it. Hmmm.

Now, I can take a rejection as well as the next person. Probably better than the next person - I get lots and lots of practice. But I just don't believe they'd been overrun with red-breasted robins and tinsel-garlanded reindeer since the early part of the year. So I suppose what I'm saying is I'm not entirely convinced that they read the stories last year in the order in which they arrived. And well, I like to think that's how it works: that we wait forever for a reply, but that never mind, because everyone else is waiting forever for a reply as well and we're all in the same boat.

It probably wasn't a topnotch story. I could've taken a straight 'no'. Honest I could. (Ideally in July or August.)

PS The rider to this is that I won't have a word said against the lovely Sarah Proctor who has never bought a single thing of mine, but is consistently friendly and approachable. And - news flash - not all eds are like that.

Me and Paul Simon

2008-07-11T06:10:00.001-07:00

Paul Simon and I have something in common: a short little span of attention. Oh yes.

Y'know how hard it is to get going, and keep focussed, sometimes? Especially when you've shelves full of old photograph albums that you could just flick through for several hours - sure to spark some inspiration - and then all the newspapers are on the net, and..well, everybody suffers from those distractions, yeah? But me tho' - I watch the lads with ADHD in the centre and think: that's me! I'm like them!

In desperation I now set the kitchen timer for 20 minutes at a time and I see how much I can get written (or planned if it's a lesson-planning day) before it shrieks at me. Tick, tick, tick, on and on it goes while I write, geeing me up, getting on my nerves and (almost) wiping out any inclination I might have to check the BB live feed or water the herbs currently in a state of collapse on the worktop.

Ok, the other day I found a half-written article on short attention spans in my Someday I'll Do Something With This Lot file. Wonder if I can finish it in 3 x 20 minute bursts before Sweetie Pie gets home?

Wimbledon v Big Brother

2008-07-05T00:57:00.001-07:00

Some people book a fortnight's holiday for the duration of Wimbledon. Sadly, this isn't possible for the duration of Big Brother, seeing as it lasts half a lifetime. But, if I had a job at the moment to take holiday from, and if Big Brother lasted a strictly limited number of days or weeks, then I might be tempted.

I'm a Big Brother virgin (not many of those around) - I've never watched it before. Indeed, I've avoided it on purpose, declaring the house a Big Brother Free Zone and anyone idiotic to go on the programme an attention seeking div. So what happened? A mid-life thingy? Too much time on my hands? Or am I - as I'll tell anyone who reacts with enough horror to my BB confession - subconsciously immersing myself in the direst kind of popular culture in order to garner themes for literacy lessons?

In the meantime, just excuse me, it's at least ten minutes since I checked the Sun's (I ask you!) 24/7 rolling news update. Yup, I've got it bad.

I got tagged!!

2008-06-28T00:37:00.000-07:00

I got tagged by Maddie! OK...

What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was working weekends in the library, doing other odd hours in other jobs here and there when I could around school hours and Barney's shifts, not yet writing to any great extent and doing the full-on parenting thing with children of 8 and 4 years old.

Five things on your to-do list for today:
It was my birthday during the week so we're planning a day out - local house and garden, meal out early evening, etc. But erm, well, I'll also clean out the guinea pigs and I've just written a thank you letter. What could number five be...? Four's enough for a weekend day surely? Or maybe I'll have time to write to the taxman about a small refund I suspect they owe me.

What are three of your bad habits?
Moderate, inelegant swearing.
Watching Big Brother (definitely qualifies as a bad habit)
Jumping to terrible conclusions when anything just mildly dodgy happens.

What would you do if you were a billionaire?
I really don't want to be a billionaire, so I'd give away all except £500,000, probably to the hospice movement as it's a national scandal that hospices don't get funding directly from government.
I've also always fancied setting up a little music promotion operation - the kind of thing where you arrange for acts to appear in back street pubs and little places - low key. Could I do that with £500,000?
And I'd like to visit a few places - maybe starting with Copenhagen and Barcelona.

What are some snacks you enjoy?
Cashews
Raisins
Lemon curd sandwiches

What were the last five books you read?
Two tractors
Shopaholic ties the knot
Getting the buggers to behave
Teaching today: a practical guide (in progress)
Wannabe a writer? (just started - a birthday present)

What are five jobs you have had?
Editor (yes! and they paid me! and I loved it!)
Writer
Librarian
National Travel office assistant
Census enumerator

Five places that you have lived?
Leeds
Heckmondwike
Pontefract
Bangor
Halifax

Thanks, Maddie! Not sure anyone reads this who I could tag, so maybe I'll leave that bit till later...but just as a general question - who would you choose to play you in a film of your life? I'm nabbing Diane Keaton.

A story earning its keep

2008-06-24T05:17:00.000-07:00

Yippee, sold a story this week - haven't done that in ages, altho' I'm down from my usual (last year) average of 20+ out at once to maybe 5. I have others out there but it's so long since I waved them off that I've given up all hope of them finally triumphing - more likely they'll return at some point, shoulders slumped and tails between their legs.

But anyway, this story - I think it's the first time I've sent a story on its way only twice and it's sold to both magazines it's been offered to.

Now, where else can I send it?

A bit of a do

2008-06-21T01:32:00.000-07:00

Barney's joint 60th and retirement party tonight - his birthday was last month and his retirement (he hopes) is next month so we're somewhere between the two. We've booked the band (Bob Dylan tribute band), organised the food and venue, and sent out the invitations. But for me the big thing was remembering I'd have to plan Monday's lesson sometime last week rather than this weekend. At the moment I'm averaging seven hours preparation for a 90 minute lesson - that'll have to change, won't it?

Blow up beds have been found and positioned for guests, extra pillows and bedding have been purchased, full English breakfast foods have been added to this morning's shopping list. I've even dusted! But do I know what to wear? Nope. Not yet feeling grown up enough for anything smart, I'm idling through middle age with a selection of casual and sometimes vaguely ethnic clothes, none of which are remotely suitable for Barney's big night. I think it might have to be the newer pair of cropped jeans. They'll do.

Well, would you??

2008-06-17T00:27:00.000-07:00

'Would you have sex on the beach?'
Sandra, who's 18 and desperately trying to entertain herself in a class where she's by far the most able, looks up at me with mischievous, puppy dog eyes.
'Absolutely not, ' I answer. 'Too much sand - it gets everywhere.'
She laughs and goes back to her chatting.
'I really like you,' she says later, with the usual slight mocking edge. It's another distraction technique.
'Thank you, I like you too. Now, you need to start your writing on...'

I choose who to approach next: Candy, with the sulky face who gives off Don't Mess With Me vibes?; hyperactive and dyslexic Drew who's bright as a button with an unmatched ability to go off at a conversational tangent?; equally hyperactive and dyslexic Ahmed, who has an alleged penchant for knife collecting? They all have their own quirks, problems and charms. And sometimes, just when you think you've had the rubbishest lesson in history, one of them will say something that makes you think it's worthwhile after all.

Yesterday that didn't happen. After an averagely bad lesson, sweet Saffron, she of the dry stone wall face and the giggly manner, (I know, I know, unusual combination), came by. Seemingly, the place she moved to a few weeks ago 'isn't for her' and she's coming back to us. Oh joy.

Adding a few links

2008-06-15T00:35:00.000-07:00

I'm hoping no one minds if I add links to their blogs. I read quite a few regularly. Very regularly. Voraciously, even.

Hmmm, Add a Page Element and Maddie Moon seem to be incompatible - will add you later, Maddie.

Filin' groovy

2008-06-14T08:56:00.000-07:00

A quiet day in Honeysuckle House so I'm sorting out my growing collection of teaching resources - well, the paper ones anyway. The previous system - cardboard files, stacked horizontally - has its limits.

I'm aiming to fit it all into a series of Lever Arch files and A4 pockets. Don't you just love A4 pockets? Me too. Unfortunately I'm starting to think there aren't enough A4 pockets in the world for the amount of stuff I've amassed in eight months of teaching just six hours a week. How did it happen? And what should I do with it all?

Should I shove it all in together and sift through the whole lot every time I need something? Should I just keep copies on disk? Should I come over all alphabetical and attempt some rudimentary order? If so, supplementary question coming up: do 'synonyms and antonyms' come under 'dictionary use' or are they separate?

Can you see how I'm struggling? It's going to be a long night.

Who's bad?

2008-06-12T11:08:00.000-07:00

In the observation report I collected from the college office today, my kindly mentor has highlighted the good parts of Monday's lesson and downplayed the lack of discipline. Okay, she's mentioned discipline a couple of times but seeing as bad behaviour was the main feature of the morning, that's not too bad.

Meanwhile, there are big changes happening at home which put greater pressure on me to find a job pronto. Am no good with pressure. Or change. So now is not a very good time for me.

A fellow student has passed on details of a job locally, teaching basic skills to vulnerable people - not sure I even qualify to apply, but I may give it a whirl. Anyway, I like vulnerable people much more than cocky, successful, confident, competent, happy ones, so I may even be able to summon up some enthusiasm for it.

Well almost...

2008-06-10T02:54:00.000-07:00

Raucous hyperactivity marked the (belated) last of my observed teaching practice sessions yesterday. An over-exuberant, over-large class of huge, late-teen boys and giggling, mobile-phone-wielding girls ran rings round me and guffawed in the face of my attempts to bring order to the lesson. Oh and there were a couple of quiet ones in there too. At one point the department manager was also in there demanding quiet - the effect of that lasted about a minute in noise terms but probably forever in relation to the undermining of my authority. (I know! - what authority?)

Maybe I'm not cut out to be a teacher.

And yet...every other observed lesson has been okay, if not excellent. And those big, laughing, noisy lads quite enjoyed the activities I'd devised. And they all learned something. Most of them learned quite a lot. And there was a good atmosphere in the room.

Think I'll just lick my wounds for a few days before I consider my options.