I should be writing but...........

But....... today I have migraine
     .......yesterday I had migraine
     .......last week I had Christmas shopping
     .......before that I had the miseries.

Day of the Triffids is still Creepy

I watched the first 2 episodes of the 1960's BBC tv series of 'Day of the Triffids' tonight.

I do remember watching it when it first came out and I'd already read the book. It's still the best version, even though or maybe because it's so period now.
It has the painful kind of realism of 60's drama. The acting is wooden, but that also helps to make it feel like this awful thing is happening to ordinary, boring people. The sound effects help. I dunno if the BBC radiophonic workshop was involved , but I think it may well have been.

I shall be tuning in to get the next helping.


I have also seen the 1960's cinema version and the recent modern tv adaptation. I'm rather geeky about John Wyndham and John Christopher, they were my favourite SF writers in my teens.

Aaaah! Nostalgia

Only 42 days until 2015

Keeping my chin up despite Autumn blues.

This is my least favourite time of year, even when the sun shines. There are too many stale bread days, days when everything is past it's best, curling up at the edges and growing mould. The next event on the horizon is Christmas. I've disliked Christmas ever since my mother died, she died one December and my father and I went away for Christmas, it was terrible. We were miles from home, I was 10 years old, shy and missing my mum. I remember my father drinking too much and being grumpy. I hadn't known real loneliness before but I became well-acquainted with it over that holiday.
I don't feel lonely in the same way now but I think about all the people in horrible situations during the 'festive' season so I'm glad when January arrives no matter what the weather.

I've bought most of my Christmas presents. I do enjoy finding things that I think will really please someone, but I would be much happier if my family would agree to a no-gifts Christmas. I suggest it every year, but somebody always has a reason why we have to do it one more time.
I give money to charity whenever I remember how well-off I am in comparison to most of the world's population. I know it's only a drop into the oceans of inequality,  but it may help just one person get a chance at a decent life. I get all hot under the collar as the money wasted on tinsel and gift wrap increases and I feel more and more like a hamster on the treadmill.

Then there's the over-eating. So far the only luxury I've bought myself is a small bottle of balsamic vinegar with added fig juice. I shall not buy mince pies or Christmas pudding this year, because they taste terrible and end up in the bin. I'll try not to stuff myself at all. I just have to stop shopping. I could live on the tins in my cupboard for a month anyway!

Never mind....only 42 days until 2015

Still alive but not doing much

I haven't left yet, but I've done nothing fit to record recently.

I'll try to do better.

New Story

I'm not totally comatose and hunkered down for Winter yet.

There's a new story on t'other blog. I've aimed this at  Young Adult readers, but I'm not sure I've got the tone right.

One small moment of enlightenment.................

It has dawned on me that I lose interest in writing my novels because they are boring.

They are boring because they are history tomes with a few fictional characters thrown in; the history takes centre stage and the characters and minor incidents are incidental.

I realised this because I find writing my short stories exciting.....and that's because I'm making them up as I go along and they have only a tenuous link with reality.

Soooooo I have one Hell of a lot of re-imagining to do. I'm not depressed by this I feel liberated because I've given myself permission to invent stuff.

Now, let's see, when and where did I last see my  imagination? I might have left it on a bookshelf somewhere or possibly in my trinkets box,.
 Gotta go and hunt it down.

Writing and Volcanoes

It's proving hard to tear myself away from my pc and write short stories; as for the novel, it languishes.
I'm completely absorbed by Bardarbunga and check web-cams and earthquake data a dozen times a day. It would disrupt any routine but when you're trying to get a story straight in your head and onto the page it becomes a real bugbear.
I'm not sorry to be so taken up by something extraneous. I have been drifting along on the foamy billows for too long. I am still getting short stories done but whether they're readable is another matter.

I should be getting the garden winterised too!

I confess to an addiction

Over on 'Whatever Comes' there's another dazzlingly brilliant short story.

The novel is proceeding at a snail's pace, but you can't have everything, especially when I've been glued to webcams watching Bardarbunga.

 There are times when I love technology and this is one of them. I'm getting an almost continuous stream of data on earthquakes, displays of lava flows and conversations with vulcanologists; short of actually being there this is marvellous. I'm in Heaven!

Paddling furiously

I look nothing like a swan either literally or metaphorically, but I feel akin to one in the amount of effort it takes me to stay on top of Life.

I become aware that things need 'Doing' i.e. they require some active involvement on my part, this is often triggered by the realisation that I need to prod somebody who promised to do something for me and hasn't, but I'm always reluctant to do that;  so I think of all the things that I promised to do and haven't completed or possibly started. There generally aren't too many items on this list, so once they're ticked off I look for other things to tackle............

Now there is the issue. I look for things to keep my hands busy because my mind is empty.It's full of trivia and fretting but empty of ideas. I cannot write or so I tell myself so I must be useful instead. I must do important things in the way of living comfortably. It's all crap because I'm only thinking of cupboard tidying or weeding the garden or  cleaning the shower all of which I can happily ignore for a month of Sundays.

All this busy-ness is a smoke screen for the real problem that's dogged me this Summer.
I have not been writing much or indeed anything, hence I've been scurrying about for weeks, stacking up lesser tasks and working through them so that I cannot be held culpable for the failure to write!


So I've said it now. I've confessed. I need to write to regain some self respect and to get away from the bloody housework. I shall proceed to the labour of  artistic creation forthwith !!!

Not wanted on voyage

My youngest grandchild starts college soon. It sank in today that she and the others are all growing into functioning adults and I'm not sure if I'll fill any viable role in their lives from here on. It is a version, I guess, of Empty Nest syndrome and I don't like it.

I've always lived on a creed that somebody needs me and that need justifies my existence; realising that I'm not essential to anybody else's well-being is hard to accept.
This redundancy probably crops up in any life that's lived long enough, it's another thing nobody warns you about on that long list of ''All the Things I wish I'd known about Old Age before I got OLD, but didn't.''
I called this post 'Not wanted on voyage' because  while those trunks lay in the hold on the long journey they know they'll be opened again in a new place, so....I still have a ray of hope that if Great-Grandchildren appear somebody will phone and say 'We need you. Can you come over?'

Robin Williams

Feeling extremely sad at the news. At first I thought he'd maybe had a heart attack and I was pleased for him that he'd been taken suddenly because somehow that seems appropriate when you're aware that somebody is having a tough time.
Then I read that he'd apparently taken his own life and the sadness hit me. There are many people who feel desperate yet live with that and with all the reasons why they feel bad; I'm so sad that he no longer wanted to do that.
 His wry irony should have kept him going, shouldn't it?  But such skills don't help the comic do they? He seemed to have an inexhaustible well of humour  and I feel somehow that should have helped him on dark days, as his  humour helped a lot of us.

I'm so sorry you couldn't stay Mr Williams.........

Later... so many people mourning him. He gave out a lot of love but was given plenty too and it didn't help.
 Did he feel like a perpetual Mork, always alien, laughable as well as humourous? I fear that he did  and that's dreadful.

I take pen in hand...............

I started writing again this morning after more than a month.
I don't know why everything stopped, it just did. It was partly due to the heat, which sapped all my energy and interest and partly it was a lack of fun ideas.
I have some ideas to run with now. I won't say they're original, but they should get some work out of me; at any rate I wrote 600 words this morning and they're not total drivel.

Cosily Racist

That's how I'd describe most of the people in my age group and living in this area.
They are people who've retired after working lives involving a measure of hardship but who now have no real worries because they have pensions and free medicines and live in decent and secure rented homes The area is semi-rural, close enough to go shopping via the local bus, but away from the bustle of town or city centre. In other words I and they have little to complain about.
But they do complain, at length, about how immigrants are bleeding us dry because they claim everything going and then send loads of money home to their families elsewhere. Not one of the moaners has any evidence, by way of personal experience. They don't belong to any political parties, they generally don't vote, they don't even go to the pub for a good argument......they just moan.
I get sickened by it. I have occasionally suggested that they might be misinformed on a particular point, which wouldn't be hard as they only read 'The Sun' or 'The Mirror' or 'The Mail'. But I've learned to my cost that my neighbours don't appreciate alternative points of view. I've been sworn at more than once and told that
'YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE !!!'
I think this means that I come from another planet and therefore cannot share their suffering at the hands of foreigners. Nobody uses non pc words that could land them in trouble, but they are strong in their belief that East Europeans are just the latest in a long line of savages who have visited these shores since time immemorial to plunder. My neighbours would add other crimes but they know well enough the response that would provoke from me.
I want to keep on challenging their views, but it get's harder all the time. I only want to push the door of a closed mind open just enough to let a sunbeam in, but I'm likely to be in my coffin before that happens.

PS There are no persons of foreign extraction, other than the chinese take-away staff, living closer than 10 miles from here.

Just a rant...................

Health stuff and Writer's block

It's been a less than marvellous couple of weeks. My hay-fever decided to go quiet, but only to make room for my Asthma. It's been nasty. I have felt really low physically and that tends to bring me down in everything, so that I'm reduced to sitting on the sofa in a stupor and coughing or I sleep LOTS.

Improvements have taken place in the last two days so I'm back and I've written another bit of flash fiction that you can find on t'other blog.

Weather has played a large part in all this and is set to change again soon, so I have no idea how long I'll be functioning.
TaTa

Have trust in yourself.

Struggling with self-confidence at the moment. I suppose this is partly due to a put down I received via email this week, it wasn't actually important but it angered me and then it made me anxious.

I put on a good show of being knowledgeable, well in control of any situation and at ease with anyone I meet. I believe in most of that shit most of the time too, but sometimes as with that email I take a knock and suddenly I'm questioning my right to existence.

A couple of times this week I've had that old familiar horror stir inside me. I think of it as a black pit that opens right at my feet, if I make a false step I'll plunge into it and worse still I don't know if there's a right step to take.

I can now fight it off. I do some menial bit of house-work, or dig the garden, or go and visit somebody who needs cheering up more than I do. If I don't I suspect that I'd sink into Depression again,

'They' say you're always prone to relapses if the Black Dog has bitten you in the past; a cheery thought which scares me, thanks Guys.

When I was depressed with a capital 'D' I used to blog on a website for people with mental issues, I always felt a bit of a fraud because many of them had really severe problems, but it helped me to write my worst thoughts down on that blog when there was nobody I dared speak them to.

Anyway I'm not ill now just lingering in the Self-Pity zone a bit.

Help comes from the Universe in odd ways. I found this yesterday on Facebook:

"Have good trust in yourself… not in the one that you think you should be, but in the One that you are.”

~ Taizan Maezumi Roshi ~

and I always find Love from Rumi:

" Tomorrow you'll be brave, you say? Fool! Dive today from the cliff of what you know into what you can't know.
You fear the rocks? Better men than you have died on them; dying on Love's rocks is nobler than a life of death."

Rio 50 Degrees: Carry on CaRIOca

I just watched this documentary by Julien Temple and found it wonderful.


It was a stream of consciousness montage of images, music and art that told much of the history of Rio de Janeiro. I knew nothing of Rio and began to watch it wondering if I could sit through the run-time of 102 minutes.
It wasn't hard at all; the colours, the sounds, the violence and the beauty of the city had me transfixed. I'd recommend it to anyone curious about a place most of us have heard of and know nothing about.
I can't decide if the ending was optimistic or not, there's so much spilled blood on those streets, but the people of the favelas look as if they could transform their lives if they're given half a chance.

New Story

Not posted for a bit. Sometimes I just slump, but I'm awake again.
There's a new story on 'Whatever Comes'.
I wrote this straight off this morning. I don't know if that makes it better or worse than others that take longer. You'll need to judge for yourselves.

Feeling Good

I'm feeling pretty good right now and I know why.
I like to have stuff to do and to be useful neither, of which is easy to achieve these days but....
My lapsed function as a Tree Warden has suddenly revived.
 I had an email asking me for my thoughts on management of one of our local woods. So I've been out, made note of things I thought worth mentioning and just emailed my comments as requested........and I feel happy that somebody needed me to do something.
  I feel worse than a spare bride at a wedding most of the time. I was always busy, busy, busy years ago and I miss it more than I realised.

Retirement is just another word for Redundant.

I had to re-post this entry from Jon Symes blog

Of Butterflies and Bees: Moving Toward Wholeness

May 21st, 2014

| By Jon Symes

In earlier times we sat, all together under the same stars we see today, around a fire. The world worked.

There’s a moment in the life of a caterpillar when it begins to eat more and more. It becomes a voracious consumer and eats many times its own weight in food. It eventually becomes bloated and immobile
The container ships groan under the Golden Gate Bridge every day, many times a day: I see them from the bus. The huge red calipers of the bridge measure their loads. 6 containers high, 16 long stacked 12 abreast, Oakland-bound and regular as clockwork. Global trade on the high seas. Box after box after box, loaded with iPhone, iPod, iPad, iStuff, motor cars, empty jars, jars of pickle, Christmas tinsel, plastic beads, plastic toys, sweat-shop jeans, rice and beans, my next pen, or pencil, my next purchase, my lifestyle, my comfort . . , , all heading for Main Street, from China . . . or Vietnam . . . or Thailand . . . or China.

Imaginal cells
You and me
With our desire to be
Whole and free
In harmony
With the whole family
Of humanity
The plants and trees
The rivers and seas
The clouds and the breeze
The birds and bees
[Please bless the bees
We need them bees]

At that very moment inside the caterpillar there are these tiny cells waking up. The biologists call them imaginal cells.
A winter’s evening in San Francisco, rushing through unfamiliar hallways in the community center searching for the meeting that would open doors to new understandings. Redirected at Exploring Norse Mythology, straight on past AA, left at Cantonese for Beginners, eventually we find Room 23: Transforming Oppression. Here in a room of more than 40 this white male is in an unfamiliar minority, now seeing the world through the eyes of the Latino, the African-American, the Asian-American, the Native American, the queer, the transgender, the trans-sexual. Every “oops” and “ouch” shows us where we haven’t really seen each other. Every time we cross the lines of difference to overcome the experiences that have shaped our lives and to hear our sameness and our beauty. Each new understanding helps us see the differences as mere constructs, the separation unnecessary and ultimately unreal. Each new connection opens up new conversations and new worlds; it is hope for our future.
These cells keep popping up and joining together despite the best efforts of the caterpillar host to destroy them. The cells join as clusters, the clusters as strings.

The host will control
Break up the whole
Divide and conquer
Extend still longer
The tired old dream
The dominant theme
The rule of nation
Hate-creation
Man’s domination
Our separation
Unless we’re together
Come what may, together

Author Rivera Sun writes about the USA, “Revolution is on the table, once again. It is being discussed with increasing seriousness as our representative republic fails to adequately meet the populace’s needs”.
Can we imagine a revolution here, amidst our imported comfort, manufactured consent and hijacked dreams?
As the imaginal cells gather the rest of the cells collapse into a kind of nutritive soup
At the bus stop heading home, another container ship beneath the bridge, heading home too. Stacked high again. What are we exporting these days? Root beer, coca cola, baseball hats and yoga mats, cheerios and candy canes, planes, missiles, bullets and bombs, tanks, Harleys and Hummers (or do the tanks come in from China?), modified seeds and cures for diseases we didn’t used to get. Or promises of peace, freedom, democracy, and the American dream. Perhaps the boxes are empty after all.
Much is dying in our world, or collapsing; fish stocks, pristine forest, water tables, glaciers . . . . . but also economic systems, financial models, trust in government, and jobs, good honest jobs. We are in the end times, the dying days of an era, all of us together caught in the death throes of an outmoded way of being. All of us together trying to do what we think is right, and protect the children; in the sweat shop and the boardroom, on the commuter bus or the ship’s bridge, doing what we think is right and protect the children. As our world collapses around us, something new is born too, deep in our hearts; care, responsibility, compassion and camaraderie. Will enough of these precious goods arrive in time, before Sun’s revolution?

So let’s cluster
We’ll muster
Will and creativity
Greatness has waited patiently
For the day when
We’ll rise again
Speak truth to power
Now’s the hour
To fan the ember
And remember
We are who we’ve been waiting for

The imaginal cells become the genetic director of the caterpillar. The cells and strings reorganize in new unrehearsed ways.
Around the fire, faces lit by the dancing flames, a quiet settles, a calm with depth, a calm that resonates with responsibility freely chosen, that vibrates like a sworn vow. It’s a moment that dissolves the last vestiges of difference. The fire is a comfort even though the air around is warm, a pipe is passed and the tobacco smoke carries our prayers into the star-bright New Mexico night. These sisters, these brothers have gathered here to pour their love into Mother Earth, to take on what’s theirs to do in the creation of a new way of being. Not one of us can see this future clearly, nor how we must be, but unstoppably, alchemically, forged in those flames and countless other fires around the world; a new consciousness is emerging.
One day soon that container traffic will end, we’ll export only compassion and import beauty. We’ll worry less about our differences and dance with all that connects us. The collapse will complete and the new-birth will deliver. We’ll laugh about those old, dark, caterpillar days and celebrate our triumph, the will and creativity that brought us through.

Happy ever after
Joy and laughter
Our spirits rising
Hearts re-sizing
With who we really are
On this bright star
All of us free
To live in harmony
With the whole big WE
Plus those birds and bees
[How we need those bees!!]

Soon the chrysalis becomes transparent. And in a final leap we discover the unpredictable miracle that is a butterfly.
About Jon: Jon is the Outreach Director for The Pachamama Alliance, and author of the book Your Planet Needs You. He is responsible for taking The Pachamama Alliance’s transformational education to audiences and partners around the world, and for developing new formats for these messages of awakening, all lead by the mission: bringing forth an environmentally sustainable, spiritually fulfilling, socially just human presence on this planet. Published in 2006, Your Planet Needs You, maps the challenges we face in creating and living a new future and shows ways to overcome these. This book, and his passion for sharing its message in practical ways, was so resonant with the work of The Pachamama Alliance that he was invited to join that team in San Francisco in 2007. Since then he has helped develop this message and taken it far afield, including to China, New Zealand, Ecuador, Ireland and India. This entry was excerpted from his blog on Speaking Tree.

Catch up..

Managed to catch up on my  daily word count by today ....phew.
Monday was scrapped because of computer problems and me losing my temper with aforementioned machine.
Tuesday life got in the way and I was up to my neck in issues.
Today however has been good, got writing done including back-log, socialised with my elderly neighbours and still had time to go for a walk. Aaaaaah......................

Still writing

Not feeling quite as bad as yesterday, but definitely unwell. How far this is down to the Hay-fever and how far to all the meds is debatable. The sun is shining and I'd love to be working the garden, but.

I wrote another flash piece this morning, under 600 words but I don't think it needed more.

Bad day

Woke up feeling odd, right eye swollen, soon followed by left eye. Went to doctor, as I thought ....it's part and parcel of the damn Hay-fever. Given eye drops; by the time I got home I had a sore throat. By lunchtime a fever.

Somehow I still managed 400+ words, but I haven't re-read them so they're probably trash.
Need to sleep.
Bye

plodding on

Only managed about 650 words over the last two days. I've been drowning in nautical terminology. First I have to learn what some technique or piece of equipment is and how it's used (reference books and Googling, which are far too distracting),  then I have to use the technique/equipment correctly in the story which involves brain working on 2 levels; then I have to use my hero's actions and thoughts to try and put it all in simple language. Phew.....
 I'm sure it will need loads of editing, but at least he doesn't spend the whole novel aboard ship!

I took Monday off because I did a short story over the weekend, so I am more or less where I should be in the week's work. I could really do with a holiday on a sail training ship to get it all clear in my mind.

New story

Wrote a new story over the weekend. You can see it over on 'Whatever comes' as usual.
It was a tougher assignment, but fun once I got into it. It's entitled 'Three Wishes' and had to deal with 5 characters in 1500 words...phew. The formatting went haywire halfway through writing it and I had to re-write a chunk  because I couldn't solve the problem.........Aaargh curses. 'Open Office Writer' is good, but the Help sometimes isn't very helpful.

460 easy words

The words flowed today.
I was tempted to write more but maybe restricting myself to 3-400 a day keeps the juices flowing better. In the past when I've hammered out 2000 words at a time I've felt exhausted mentally and then can't face the repetition of doing it again the next day. Today I stopped at a critical point with a sea battle to fight next time.
Bonus.... the weekend is coming up and I haven't had that Friday feeling in a very long time

Another day done

I managed another 400+ words today. I had to write through a bit of gloom but made it.
Weather improving. Dog now nagging to go out.

Today is a Good Day

I'm taking Chuck's excellent advice

and my first day's work today is 440 words on a new version of Chapter One.

Some days is hard and some flows like Honey. This is a Honey Day.

Bit more writin'

 Wrote another piece of flash fiction this week. Inspired by an opening line prompt from Chuck Wendig's site. /terribleminds.com/ramble/blog/

You can check it out on 'Whatever comes' if you hit the link.

The need to stay awake during the day

Silly isn't it when you can't fall asleep at night but get to lunchtime and some zzzzzzz's would be very welcome?

Yesterday I had written a chunk of chapter 2, but instead of hitting 'Save' I hit another key (I have NO idea which one) and eradicated the lot. I did jump up and down and say some bad words. I calmed down walking the dog and returned to the fray. I got the same idea on the page in fewer words and tighter in style So......
I then gave up writing and read instead.


Today I intended to do lots, but was distracted by several things. The delivery man arrived with my Easter groceries, but all the chilled goods were from someone else's order! It took a bit of time to sort that out, but I have my butter and yogurts now.

 I need to walk the dog but I want to nap instead. I shall switch off the computer and do the right thing for the poor hound.

Happy Easter

A new story

Over on t'other blog 'Whatever Comes' there's a new short story.
Many thanks to Chuck Wendig over on 'Terrible Minds' for the 5 word prompt that initiated this story.

Birthday/Mother's Day etc

Not a lot done on the writing front.
Had a birthday recently and then it was Mother's Day and a couple of small celebrations like that throw me off course completely. Not much of an excuse really, but when I add in a few days 'off' with hayfever that might be a better one.
Anyway I returned to the fray this morning, but didn't write much because I'd forgotten the details of the action I was trying to convey; so back to the reference material, then back to the writing. I can't remember anything these days!
On the plus side: the weather is improving and actually feels more like Spring; so I also "wasted" time sorting out some walks for me and the dog. I was using Google Maps to locate starting points with parking close by so that dog doesn't have to walk too far.
Never mind, try harder tomorrow.

Started writing again

Sometimes I think I'll never move on from the research.

BUT a couple of days ago I suddenly felt I had enough in my head now to make a start. So I've written a draft of chapter one and will be filling it out until I'm happy it's going in the right direction.

This is the best part...when I'm eager and believe in my story.

~ Become a Lake ~

An aging master grew tired of his apprentice’s complaints. One morning, he sent him to get some salt. When the apprentice returned, the master told him to mix a handful of salt in a glass of water and then drink it.
“How does it taste?” the master asked.
“Bitter,” said the apprentice.
The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the same handful of salt and put it in the lake. The two walked in silence to the nearby lake and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt in the water, the old man said, “Now drink from the lake.”
As the water dripped down the young man’s chin, the master asked, “How does it taste?”
“Fresh,” remarked the apprentice.
“Do you taste the salt?” asked the master.
“No,” said the young man. At this the master sat beside this serious young man, and explained softly,
“The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains exactly the same. However, the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things. Stop being a glass. Become a lake.”

with gratitude to Tao & Zen Stories on Facebook.

Feeling Lousy

I can't believe it...but my hayfever kicked in yesterday and I feel pretty dreadful still today.
It's only mid March, this is way too early and it's hit hard too.
NOT fair.
NOT happy

Something intriguing from Dartmoor

Something intriguing from Dartmoor.

The publication of this has only just happened although the excavation was about 3 years ago.I don't know much about it, but will look for more because this is such an impressive piece of preservation and careful restoration.
Back in the days when I studied archaeology all I saw from Dartmoor were fragments of unexciting pottery and a few nice palstaves (socketed axe heads, very trendy c 15000 years back). Makes me wish I could have my time again.

I should really be doing more excavation in the garden, but I put in an hour this morning and can't manage any more despite the glorious sunshine out there. Typical British weather; months of grey skies, cold winds and sodden ground then Pow! instant Spring. I have so much to do and it all needs to be done immediately. AAaaaaarrgh

Trying for the END

I'm still in the process or organising my thoughts for the current Wip.

I've now pushed the whole 50,000 NANOWRIMO pile from December into the pc's deepest cellar.
I'm still using a big chunk of the research I did for that but the female MC has disappeared to be replaced by a young male. I've not tried to write a story about a bloke before, so that gives me a buzz.

I realise that his active lifestyle will either need a quick rush through if I'm covering his life or a more detailed and hopefully more gripping short passage through some of the high and low points.

There is now a sketchy outline and some characters are penciled in but I need a lot more................

I've spent the last week or so thrashing about trying to construct an ending with no success. But now I think I'm close to sorting it.I'm going to limit the time frame and write an ending that leaves his story incomplete. It will tie up everything that he's done in his still young life but leave the reader aware that not everything is resolved. I hope that will be satisfying but stimulating as well.

Feeling excited now and approaching it with optimism.

Haven't got a title yet, but that's a problem for another day.

Early morning

I got up around 04.30 and now I'm here with a rapidly cooling cup of tea. Something happened yesterday that made me think about the future.
I hate thinking about the future nowadays...........it feels like a nasty alien entity sucking the life out of me slowly.
Now that's not a pleasant thought in the early morning, but it's accurate.
I never thought that old age might feel this way when I was younger. Good job too!

When I was very young I didn't believe in death, despite, or maybe because it had already intruded on my world and old age was never going to happen either. I knew no old people and the few I saw didn't interest me at all.
By my teenage years I was thinking death might happen to other people but it couldn't happen to me. I couldn't imagine Me not existing so there was nothing to worry about. I was going to live forever and I was going to save the World too! This must be a commonly held fallacy otherwise adolescence would be incredibly boring and safe instead of tingly with anticipation of great times ahead.

I haven't saved the World and I feel bad about that, sorry World. If I had my time over I'd do better; my efforts in that area have been little use. On the personal side I'm not afraid of death but the future scares the Hell out of me. I can't do much about saving the future either; that's probably why I couldn't sleep, my brain was working itself into a tizz while I slept.
I feel good now I'm fully awake despite the darkness and the rain outside. Fears and anxieties only have power when you're vulnerable, being tired makes me vulnerable. I did get some sleep and the tea is giving me a boost so I just have to wait for the Dawn now.
I'll go read some Rumi.

It's strange....

It's strange, odd behaviour on my part.
I really think so...here I've sat since Christmas, warm and dry, while outside the weather has been appalling for weeks and what have I done while largely confined to my well-feathered nest?
Nothing..Nada...Zilch. I could have written thousands of words, but have only managed a few hundred.I could have read a slew of books to improve my understanding of matters nautical but I haven't.

I am ashamed now that I realise how the time slipped through my fingers. I've mostly spent my days knitting; while that saves me from complete reproach it's not so great because I've always knitted to keep occupied.

I knitted a baby cardigan for a little girl's first birthday.

I almost completed another design based on a jacket worn by Jennifer Lawrence's character in the first 'Hunger Games' film. It was to be a birthday present for my granddaughter, but when I gave her a first fitting of the jacket I could see she was not captivated by it, nor was she enthusiastic about having such an item in er wardrobe. It was a fair point because Katniss Everdeen wears her jacket when hunting small animals for food, my granddaughter has never hunted anything and would baulk at the idea..... so the unfinished project has gone into the discard pile.

I am halfway through a cardigan for myself now which will please me ....hopefully when complete. But writing it ain't.

Rain....Wind.....Rain....Sun.....Rain....Wind....Wind....Rain..... ad infinitum

I think one of the reasons I'm not sunk in deep depression is because I have to keep the dog happy. Left alone he veers between cross, scared then depressed by the current weather.He lays with head on paws and sighs, lots. I can usually cheer him up by tickling him or coaxing him into a game and I talk to him to keep his spirits up.
Another reason I'm staying cheerful is that when I feel the chill gloom of depression trying to pull me close I make a big effort to go and do something. I write or I cook or I clean something. I don't enjoy the cleaning trick ,but it does work, so my place is not too bad dirt-wise.
The main reason I keep going is because I want to be happy and purposeful and make my life mean something.


I found this pic recently and I think the words apply to freedom of mind in my case. If I'm depressed I'm not free.I cultivate my freedom by constant practice and I'm able to do that because of the Friend.

Rumi talks a lot about the Friend. I think he saw God as a friend who encouraged him when things went wrong; of course Rumi talks incessantly of the Divine as Lover, but you can only expect a lover to arrive if you're in a fit state to be loved. I'm not a Sufi mystic and don't expect to be caught up in that whirling ecstasy, but I feel that if friendship with the Divine was good enough for Rumi it'll do for me too.God does not solve my problems, but he gives me the desire to overcome them.

I'm not sure any of that explains anything, but I'm not a theologian either.

Excuses, Excuses.

Hesitant efforts at writing this week.

I'm finding it hard to get in a routine.

The weather is dire and my social life consists of coffee with a neighbour once a week so I have no excuses.
I have been keeping on top of housework, but not cooking and I'm knitting a project for someone's Birthday when my hands don't hurt too much.

I need more sleep. I'm not getting enough sleep because I haven't usually had sufficient time outdoors most days so I ache lots and this makes me restless and can't sleep. I tend to wake up hurting and this is not a great way to start the day.

I took paracetamol before bed last night and that helped. The aches are down to the weather which just gets worserer and worserer and the resultant lack of exercise, so s'not really my fault that I'm not writing it's actually due to Climate Change.

See I found a valid excuse after all!

In the bleak mid-winter

Although the writing as languished for a bit I have been thinking about my new opus. I've jotted down some thoughts and have ideas of the experiences my hero will have to endure, but need to read more on early 17C life at sea to get all the sweaty details.

Aside from the lack of writing I've kept occupied with knitting; the first spell of knitting for months and I'm enjoying it. It'll feel like a slog again when my hands start hurting, I see there's a bit of swelling between the knuckles already, but for now it's good to do.


I feel cheerful and quite at peace with the world despite the rain and the cold, I'm counting my blessings. The dog conversely is getting to be a total grouch. He grumbles and sulks a LOT. I guess it's partly due to aching joints, which I believe aren't as painful as they are annoying to him, but more to do with the limited trips outside. We did venture out to one of his favourite places yesterday, but the ferocious wind and sleety rain made for a short trip. He can and does sleep much of the time. We don't have that in common at present, I seem to stay awake late every night then struggle to function in the afternoons. It's due to the lack of fresh air and insufficient exercise I'm sure.

Roll on SPRING!!

Metamorphosis????

I think I'm going through a phase.

I seem to have too much essential stuff to do, I want to be doing other stuff but can't seem to manage it and as a result I've spent a couple of weeks chasing my tail.

I need to organise myself more efficiently, but that in itself seems hard to do, just the effort required to think up a system of time management seems to be beyond me.
For years I've followed the Peg Bracken school of housekeeping; her philosophy was "If you have loads to do and you don't think you can finish everything by doing one thing at a time, you should make a start on each thing at the same time".
Her argument lies in you being compelled to finish all your tasks if for example: you've already sifted the flour into a bowl to make a cake AND you've got the vacuum cleaner in the middle of the floor AND you've already threaded up the sewing machine and put the material ready beside it. That system has stood me in good stead ever since a friend bought me her 'I Hate to House-keep' and 'I Hate to Cook' books as a wedding present nearly 50 years ago.
Now it fails me. I find I either just step around the unfinished tasks and stop seeing them or I cancel the whole day and go out because I don't give a damn.
So here I am surrounded by incomplete tasks that are driving me up the wall and I can't go out to escape because the weather is awful. Instead of knuckling down I start doing something irrelevant and unnecessary like on-line shopping.

In the past when everything has gotten on top of me I've usually ended up throwing heaps of stuff away, getting a new job or moving house. Most of those options are no longer available and it's only about 4 months since I had my last clear-out. Oh and 'clearing out' makes me uncomfortable because it creates empty space that I feel the need to fill as soon as possible with more stuff. I made the interesting discovery yesterday that I'd thrown away the power transformer for the volume control on my ultra basic hi-fi. It's just cost me £20 to replace it.

My hi-fi system is a joke; I have a cd player which ought to be part of a proper big set up; after buying it I discovered that I couldn't control the volume of the music without buying a separate little box with a volume control knob on it. How daft is that?????. Anyway I got one and instead of buying speakers, with all the fuss about which type and whether they should be wall-mounted or floor standing, I bought headphones that plug into the box and which I can also use with the tv and the pc. My late Beloved must be constantly amused by my ignorance of music playback technology after his efforts to educate me over long years.

Yesterday I started going through the collection looking for one particular cd. It took me nearly an hour to find it due to the sudden realisation about the power supply transformer; I've been playing music via my pc for several months and had unplugged everything else when I last re-arranged the furniture and threw out 'junk'.

So I hope I'm going through a phase rather than losing the remaining shreds of my intelligence; perhaps this is a transitional period and I may metamorphose into a new bright and shiny creature. One should never lose hope!

Addendum to Yesterday

In the afternoon of yesterday I was waiting for my grocery delivery and it was getting very close to end of the slot time. I was becoming irritable:
because they were verging on late,
because the dog was anxious to go out but had to wait,
because it'd had been a altogether frustrating day.
I hate it when I'm researching stuff, think I've found a great source, download it and skim through it only to find that it wasn't written from the angle I thought or that it only touched on my interest tangentially. I tend to make 'Grr' noises a lot when that happens and yesterday was a multi-Grr day.

At last the food arrived about 10 minutes past the appointed slot and I prepared to make a sarcastic attack on the delivery guy. I looked out the window, saw he wasn't in the first flush of youth (to be kind) and decided to be nice instead. I'm glad I was pleasant because when he'd brought in the last load of supplies he handed me a bottle of champagne and said that was a New Year's gift from the supermarket for shopping with them in 2013. I went suddenly all 'Aaawww'.


Later in the evening I was reading news articles online and came across the phrase 'Polar Vortex' for the first time. I get curious about all sorts of things so I started reading scientific articles on Arctic oscillation etc etc.
My interest was peaked because I made a start on a post-apocalyptic SF novel several years ago and the trigger for that plot was a sudden onset Ice-Age. I abandoned it reluctantly when the scientific community en-masse went into Warming mode.
Most of the articles I read last night were explaining the current big freeze in the USA as part of the standard Global Warming scenario for our future, but there were one or two who made tentative reference to a possible sudden onset Mega-freeze.

So today I've dug out that old plot and I'm seriously thinking this could be a good one to develop again.

Mostly dithering

I'm experiencing familiar feelings....confusion, mild anxiety, moderate excitement and so on. I haven't yet knuckled down to a writing routine yet this year so I flit from one small task to another, stray thoughts bounce around in my head and if I don't write them down instantly they disappear really fast. I am not able to concentrate on anything.
I had a message today that's made me happy, something good happened somewhere because I (and lots of others) gave a little money so I feel good too.

Thinking about God.

Thinking about God I've wondered recently if you get what you ask for rather than what you deserve.

I don't mean Christian reward and punishment. I mean if you choose not to believe in the existence of God then there will be Nothing after death , but if you want God in your life and after it you have to make an effort to bring Him in. I've thought for some time that if there is nothing at all after death then it doesn't matter what you believe, but if you believe God is real then it certainly does.

When Tony died I ranted at God and felt let down by Him; it was as if I'd made some kind of deal in my own head that I'd consent to believe in God because He was treating me well and I was happy. I used to get up in the mornings and walk the dogs up the mountain and I'd always thank God, although I called him Zeus because that seemed more appropriate. I was really at peace with God for the first time in my life and so content and happy to have it all.

I rejected God afterwards.I don't remember blaming God I just accused Him of not saving Tony; for years after I couldn't talk to God or even think about Him. He was cruel and guilty of not noticing or caring about me, but I kept getting the strongest feeling that Tony still existed somewhere.... so I talked to him. The Moon became a symbol of this new relationship we had. There were long periods I couldn't feel Tony around and those were times when I was at my lowest, overloaded with grief and a long way down the deepest hole. The times when I felt close to Tony were days when I felt I could cope, that I could wait for us to be together again no matter how far off that time might be. Seeing the Moon acted like a tonic on my spirits; the Moon is often invisible here because we get a lot of cloudy skies, so to see the Moon at night and especially to see it in the early morning was a great boost and it still is a wonder to me.

I began to envisage my next meeting with Tony as happening in some kind of virtual reality. I'd die and then I'd open my eyes to find myself on a sandy beach at night with stars everywhere, and moonlight of course. I'd be standing on the edge of a calm, dark sea with little ripples of foam moving along the beach. Then I'd see Tony and he'd come to me and I'd bury my face in his chest as he held me tight.
That's a vision that brings me immense comfort and I long for it to be real. If it's a only a dream I pray there's some degree of truth in it.

At first the vision stopped at the point of meeting Tony because my emotions took over, my imagination broke down trying to think what could follow on from that and I didn't want anything more anyway. I'd be happy to stand there in Tony's arms for the rest of eternity.

Then I thought of us walking into the sea together and disappearing into the life force that was the only way I could think of God.

It's taken several more years to think of God in a personal way.
I was brought up to the judaeo-christian idea of God as a just but stern father figure. A God you could worship and obey and fear.
I couldn't love a God like that,but I did manage some love for Jesus but never really grasped or liked the idea of the Trinity.

Then I found Rumi. He showed me a different God; a friend, a lover and helper, a God you could feel very, very close to.
I'd stumbled on Rumi shortly after Tony died and took his love poetry as being about love between man and woman and that was wonderful enough. Intellectually I was aware that Rumi also talked about divine love using analogies but I didn't see how he could use terms of intimacy and affection and be talking about God. I can't say that the penny dropped quickly, but I've read a lot of Rumi and now I get it, well I get a large chunk of it. Some of Rumi's metaphors are too Islamic to be clear to me. I don't have the cultural background to understand all the references surrounding a medieaval persian Sufi mind. But Rumi has helped me learn to love God. I don't have the ecstasy but I understand the warmth and I feel some of the desire. I now think of Tony as now being in God and of my love for Tony being love in the direction of God because God is Love and His love is often given to us through human love like Tony's love for me. I can't get that better phrased as yet.

To come back to the beginning I know that I want to improve my relationship with God. I doubt that I can reach the levels of love that Rumi
did, I have no Shams and I'm still too ensnared by old awe and too much analysing but I want God. Maybe I'll get what I want eventually.

Currents at sea and in plots

Trying to give some new structure to the WW2 effort. I'm definitely dropping one of the MCs; I never really related to her. I think I want to write more about the childhood of the two remaining girls, it's fraught with interesting Potential for an unhappy childhood. I want them to have something to fight against so they'll really want to change their lives and the war will be the agent that enables them to do that.
So I need to re-do the outline , then write the new material then see how it works with the old stuff. It may be that I have to scratch a lot , but never mind eh?

As for my piratical effort I think I need to start the story close to the end of it. I'll introduce Farid as the successful man and then go back to explore how he got there. Then I can return to his present day and put in the stuff that will destroy his happy world. I don't think it will have a happy ending but we'll see.
It may be daft to work on two stories at the same time, but that method has worked for me with other kinds of project; the theory being that as I bog down with one I can flip over to the other, after all they're very different stories.

I read some really good stuff yesterday about winds, birds at sea and so forth. I got hold of this book published in the 1940's about how to survive at sea and find your way back if you're lost. It was aimed at crews who'd been shipwrecked during the war but has stacks of useful stuff about 'primitive' navigation,happily the author recognised the sophisticated thinking of early seafarers and saw that such techniques were still helpful.

More storms ahead

The weather forecast is bad again and it's disconcerting how smug I feel living on top of a windy hill and not on a flood plain as so many of my fellow citizens do. Another failure for my resolve to care about humanity at large.

Since WW2 that we've embarked on massive building schemes on land that was always unsuitable in the past. Collectively we have no sense of history, only in 1953 a huge storm and tidal surge ravaged the East coast and I think we've built on every square foot of that land since with no consideration of it happening again.
There seems to be a disconnect between us and our environment too, is it because most people live in towns and cities that individuals go paddling on New Year's Eve while a storm rages on the beach they've gone to visit? A man died, swept off the beach, rescuers put themselves in harms way for two days trying to find him and nobody comments on the foolishness of the revellers.
People buy dogs and then think the animals can be treated like toys, alternately ignored then pulled about by small children. A child gets bitten and dies and so does the dog ...........none of it makes sense to me.

I want to be granted a New Year Wish and that is one for everyone to use common sense in their actions to avoid harm as well as consideration for others. Unfortunately I don't think the Wish Fairy is available right now.

MY New Year resolutions are already in jeopardy.

I've not read all the books I promised myself I would, partly because I've been so heavily into Rumi of late but also because I do most of my reading in bed. Reading in a warm comfy bed is a good idea if you go to bed early, I don't. I take the dog out last thing so stay in my day clothes all evening, thus by the time I do get to bed I can only manage a page or two before sleep wins. This can't be the only reason I'm behind with my reading, but it sounds like a passable excuse.
If I had the attention span of a gnat I'd be reading right now but I'm shattered today because the local firework guerrillas were still going strong at 0130 this morning. I live in a quiet suburb of moderately good housing; there are no children rampaging the streets and few joyriders, but at the slightest excuse local morons fire off salvos of loud ordnance for hours at a stretch.

Why do they do it? You need lots of cash to buy fireworks and complete hearing loss to be close to the things when they go off. The star bursts and enormous bangers seem to emanate from a gated community down by the water; last night two of the explosions were loud enough to rattle the windows at a distance of half a mile.

I am trying to be loving and NICE to everyone this year, but if someone gave me a couple of hand grenades right now I'd promptly go down there and repay their kind consideration.........