Of Mundane Mumblings May 8, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Domestic Doings, Journal , 18 commentsDear Blog,
I’ve been neglecting you. You sat there, despondent, empty, waiting for my input and there was none. Zilch. Bugger all.
Soz.
I’ve been busy, Blog. I’ve cluttered up the new house with things I’ll never need and can’t find the essentials. My lady’s bathroom accoutrements are missing; I now go by the name of Olga and have been asked sweetly by lovely bf whether I will be taking up shot putting.
I have ripped brambles out of the garden with my bare hands and resemble a murder with cuts and bruises everywhere.
I have tried to catch up with my photography course. Mission, should you wish to accept it: Message in a Bottle.
‘Yes, I really feel you’ve found your level in academia,’ smiles lovely bf as I stumble about madly, clutching camera and half-empty wine bottle.
I’ve also had another birthday and have that sinking feeling that, during this last year of my 30s, I should be achieve something in the next 360 days.
But still, the sun’s shining and the swallows are a-swooping. What better day to start my shot putting career. I’ve got the frowning and grunting part mastered so far…
Of Uppity Updates April 30, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Domestic Doings , 25 commentsHere I am, all polished and shiny as I settle into middle class suburbia. Gawd. I have been wearing my cross face rather a lot since Saturday, practising my range of swear words and generally being quite scary.
This morning, however, I woke up full of beans. Well, not actually ‘full of beans’, because I don’t really care for bean-related foodstuffs but you know what I mean.
I wandered down the stairs at 5.45, thinking about Extra-Strong Tetleys and perhaps a pre-work jaunt with the faithful canine. In the kitchen, a mountain of gross, greasy dishes peered lazily at me and I said a few more swear words. I said them quietly, of course. I live in a cul de sac now, you know.
So. Broken down dishwasher. Bugger. But things could be worse, I thought. Oh, hang on. I didn’t think it, I manifested it. Mwah ha ha ha, said the tap. I’ll run, run, as fast as I can. You can’t stop me, I’m the cul de sac tap. The water spurted and spattered. Then the dishes carefully unpacked and put away in the under-sink cupboard began to float away as H2o burst from every available pin prick of piping.
‘Gosh,’ I thought in a middle class sort of way. ‘How terribly inconvenient.’
I didn’t really think that. I thought something that rhymes with (bourgeois) frolics and begins with a ‘b’. I even said it out loud with my mouth. Quietly though, just in case.
I emailed Landlord. At 6am. When he called me back at 7 I grabbed at the biro to scribble down the emergency plumbing number. The biro I grabbed was having some sort of fit, oozing a tar-like substance all over my hands. No, I’ve no idea how I got it all over my face either. But the black and white minstrels look is still very popular in the more rural parts of Sussex so that’s good.
Yes, it’s all going swimmingly, thanks very much for asking.
Of Continuing Comical Karma April 19, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Domestic Doings, Journal , 37 commentsThey say, don’t they, that things happen for a reason. Eight weeks ago, we were told that our landlady had decided to sell the house we live in. No problemo, I thought jauntily, I now have a proper job earning a splendid number of Great British pounds. I shall procure a lifetime of debt in the form of a mortgage and purchase a humble hovel in which to house my offspring.
Apparently, however, due to apparent crunchiness of credit and my unwillingness to live in a chicken shed, this was something of a non-starter.
I pestered every letting agent in Sussex and could I find a house? Could I ‘eck. On Friday, however, our luck changed. And, um, all change is good. Isn’t it?
Of all the houses, in all the many countrified places within striking distance of the boys’ school, we have agreed to hand over the paltry sum of £1300 a month to live in a cul de sac. Gulp. Lovely bf has already been instructed to purchase some pastel-coloured sweaters and to get his sideburns trimmed. This is serious middle-class suburban stuff. We do not do that sort of thing. We stride about, mumbling madly, covered in mud and like to Not Really Talk to People.
It gets better. In The Novel, I have a character called Rajni. Rajni is based very heavily on someone I used to be very friendly with. In fact, she was very much my bestest friend when I came to live here. We shopped, lunched, drank, did playground gossip, dinner parties, the lot until she tore whole heaps of friendships apart with the winning cocktail of resentment, poison and Merlot coursing through her veins.
Reader, in my new teeny tiny suburban strangulation of residential ruin, the woman horrid enough to have inspired The Novel will live directly opposite me. I will be able to see into her living room and her into mine.
And I think the next door neighbours might be Christians.
And we have to move next week and haven’t yet booked any hairy, sweating removal men to transfer our dismal lives from our sprawling rural lair to this stamp-sized suburban sorrow.
So. Working full-time in brain-squishifying job. Moving house with one week to organise. Two children to look after. The Novel to edit. I shall be wearing my cross face quite a lot over the next ten days. I shall be saying swear words aplenty at work; I will not be able to shout at ‘home’ in the cul de sac. The neighbours will Think Things and give each other Knowing Looks.
And, inspired by Nez and Lucy, I’ve just signed up for a photography course with the Open University as part of my degree which also starts next week. To add to the jollification, I’m hormonal and have a great big spot on my snozzle.
I’m trying to be pleasant. I really am. But arses. Oh bugger. I hope the new neighbours can’t hear…
Of Observational Observances April 13, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Journal , 21 commentsI could blame tiredness. But I should probably blame the wine. I was a genius last night, articulating my Saturday night trashy telly thoughts so brilliantly, I realised I should be writing them down in my writerly notepad.
The wine has worn off now, more or less. And, just in case you were wondering, it really wasn’t my idea to watch Britain’s Got Talent.
So. (And I quote.)
“Amanda Holden is made out of discarded carrier bags”
“What is Dec wearing? He looks like an evil dentist” (I seem to remember thinking that ‘malevolent’ would be better then ‘evil’ but was too squiffy to spell it.)
“Ant and Dec always stand in formation so we can tell which is which”
“Nessun Dorma – engaging, just like writing…” (Wow, deep or what?)
“Ant and Dec: I’m going to marry it.”
“Why is that that really cool gay guys always end up as fat poofs?”
“Girl with no friends; her dog is James Bond and can walk backwards on two legs. We do canine freestyle, she announces proudly. Sounds pervy to me. Turns out they actually are best friends. Bf crying real tears at this point. Bloody hell. Dog isn’t wearing a Darth Vader outfit though. You can’t have everything.”
I even wrote down the adorable little thing lovely bf said to me:
“You promised you’d go to sleep but you’re still saying stuff.” Feel free to imagine him shaking his head and talking in quite a resigned sort of way…
Of Monday Marvelousness April 7, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 14 comments
Ooh. I’m feeling a bit… a bit… a bit something? I’ve just started reading Books, Baguettes and Bedbugs and, well, it’s doing things to me. Especially now that I’m actually ‘reading like a writer’ instead of simply devouring any book that comes my way. It sounded ideal – books, food, Frenchness and – joy of joys – an alliterative title. I like those, in case you hadn’t noticed.
But it’s a bit too good. Every word is so perfect, so beautifully chosen. Not stodgy or highbrow, just evocative and perfect and slightly unusual. The trouble is, of course, that it’s making my own as-yet-unedited manuscript look as if it has all the grace of a baby elephant. And it’s made me realise that even if The Novel is something of a chicklit affair, it still needs enough poise and beauty to make it stand out from the queues of other wannabes.
I seem to be having one of those days when everything seems almost impossibly beautiful. Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll be my usual curmudgeonly self soon enough. But the world really was dazzling when I got up. It’s Monday morning. I’m duty-bound to look a bit cross but I’m smiling inside.
And when the neighbour reports that I was hanging out of the window, photographing his cock, this is what he meant. Honest, m’lud.
Of Musical Musings April 3, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 23 commentsIn the absence of anything sensible to say, I thought I’d do the decent thing and steal a meme from A Writer.
If Your Life Were a Movie…What Would the Soundtrack Be??
So, here’s how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that’s playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don’t lie and try to pretend you’re cool…because you’re not!
7. Stick the soundtrack on your mp3 player and listen away during the day.
Now, I should tell you that I never, never play music on ’shuffle’. I have to listen to the right thing at the right time. Control freak? Um, yes actually.
But.
Doing this soundtrack thingummy has made me listen to music that I love and I actually haven’t heard for ages. And listening to Morcheeba before brek instead of in the kitchen, cooking, makes it seem completely different. And, somehow, that has combined with the thoughts I’ve been having about ’skewing the perception’ after one of Lucy’s posts on Box Elder. Art, music and perception are the main themes in The Novel so it’s all ticking away in my noggin in a most whizzifying way. I digress. Here, have a soundtrack:
Opening Credits: Candyfloss Branches – Kat Flint (I do love Kat Flint)
Waking Up: No Bravery – James Blunt (so much for being cool, eh? At least you know I’m not cheating)
First Day at School: Situations – Jack Johnson (Ugh, have gone right off poor Jack)
Falling in Love: War in the Mind – Lauren Hill
Fight Song: Silver Dagger – Martha Tilston
Breaking Up: One More Cup of Coffee - Bic Runga & The Christchurch Symphony Orchestra
Prom/Dance/Ball: Down to the Sea – Tim Booth
Life’s OK: Mood for a Day (Live) – Yes (hmmm, some old fogey music slipped in there)
Mental Breakdown: Damascus - The Natacha Atlas & Marc Eagleton Project
Flashback: I Wanna Be Your Lover – Prince
Getting Back Together: Otherwise – Morcheeba
Birth of Child: I Don’t Know Enough About You – Peggy Lee (hmmm, cool pick)
Wedding: Re-Offender – Travis (ha!)
Final Battle: Chameleon Day – Talk Talk
Funeral Song: Late Light – Rosie Brown
End Credits: Allegri’s Miserere – The Tallis Scolars (might have this at my funeral for extra weeping value)
Oh, good, I’m late for work now. That really sums me up…
Of Weekend Whingeing March 30, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 30 comments
Well, there it is. The Novel. All printed out and bound, new pen at the ready. Crikey. There’s quite a lot of it. All those words wot I thunked with my Brian. Oddly, flicking through, I barely remember writing much of it. And no, this would not be a good time to point out the wine glass on my desk.
Hmmm. I realise now, of course, that I should have been reading about editing over the past four weeks instead of fannying about. I really have no idea where to start, short of reading it through with fresh eyes. Even that feels a bit daunting on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
A year to write. God, is that mad? I’m giving myself three months to edit. Re-write. Roll my eyes. Sob bitterly. Whatever. The delete key is looking quite alluring at the moment. If my keyboard had a fuck it key, I think I’d be quite tempted to press it.
But. I have to get it sorted before August so that I can submit it to the RNA New Writers Scheme people for crit. Yes, I’ve joined the Romantic Novelists Association. They sent me a magazine last month called ‘Romance Matters’. Bet that gave the postman a good laugh. How embarrassing.
A year of my life to write a novel that’s probably crap. God. And, if that weren’t bad enough, I signed up for the A363 Creative Writing Course with the OU this morning. That, in itself, is a good thing. But I have just bought all the past course materials for the other half of my degree which I’m doing in French. I’ve got a bit rusty since I took the foundation module. The reason for this? According to my OU academic record, it’s 10 years since I last studied French. Ten Great British years. How did that happen? I could’ve trained to become a brain surgeon or astronaut in that time. But no. I’m still just me, sitting here with a glass of wine and a pile of piffle to edit.
I think I may be on the brink of a mid-life crisis. Fat, forty and a failure. Ok, so I’m not 40. But I will be one day. Pass the bottle.
Of Morning Moaning March 25, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Journal , 25 commentsHey ho, back to work this morning. I’m a bit cross with myself that I didn’t manage to get any of the things done over Easter that I meant to. The worst thing is that, as usual, I only have myself to blame. I suck, I really do. Which reminds me that I didn’t even do the hoovering and housework that was on the agenda. The pile of clothes that needs putting away practically reaches the ceiling. The school uniform’s not ironed yet. No 2 son has spent half the night vomiting so I’m tired and grouchy.
And today is supposed to be the day I start my keep fit and editing campaign. Pfffffff.
On the other hand, I did have a very nice day flouncing about Canterbury yesterday. The sun shone. There was an Italian food fair. Mmmmm, goats cheese and rosemary focaccia, scrummy. And I discovered a new downfall, Hotel Chocolat. Ooh, ‘eck. Dangerous stuff.
I’ve also spent quite a chunk of the weekend learning to touch type properly on my new ergonomic keyboard. I’m going to take it to work now that I’ve gat thw jang of it si woll.
Bogger. That was time well spwnt then.
I’m actually looking forward to editing the novel. But maybe I’ll start my new life tomorrow. I’m not entirely with it today. Hopefully, after another cuppa, I won’t be entirely without it either.
