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Of Brain Bamboozlement February 29, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 19 comments

Yoo hoo! Here I am. Crumbs, can you see my tired eyes from there?

I’ve had some fascinating conversations this week.

Lovely bf: ‘Shall I get a Mother’s Day card for you to send?’

Me: ‘Nah, I’ll get one in Tunbridge Wells – I mean Wadhurst. Burwash. Bugger. Where do I work again?’

I think we can safely say my brain has broken down entirely. I’ve spent the past four days with furrowed brow, trying to look sensible instead of wailing at my hopeless lack of knowledge concerning easements, wayleaves and agricultural oddities. I’m totally exhausted by the end of my rural day but at least it saves me counting sheep at bedtime.

On a positive note, I’ve managed not to fall down the stairs yet or succumb to the urge to stroke the cord-clad legs of my colleagues. Mmmmm. I love corduroy trousers. I shall have to buy some of my very own so that I can rub a bald patch with worry when I’m left to my own devices next week. Eek.

It’s good though. There have been eggs. Real eggs from chickens, left on my desk when the boss’s birds went into overdrive. And. There are huge, huge properties with stables and land and more sky than houses I’ve ever seen. And. There is the frequent blare of hunting horns tooting through the office at regular intervals which turns out to be a mobile ringtone.

Good golly. My working day is like being squished between the pages of a fabulous Jilly Cooper novel. I think I really rather like it.

Oh, and things are lively on the home front but I haven’t the time to tell you about that. Or about the incident with the gardener’s willy. I’ll just have to leave it to your fevered imagination.

Tally ho.


Of Nervous Natterings February 22, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 26 comments

Friday again? Gawd. Funny how that happens with such regularity.

8am and I’m having a productive day so far. I’ve re-written and submitted a piece for the War Child project. For some reason, I usually read about these things but it never occurs to me to actually write anything. I sort of forget that I’m supposed to be a writer. So I have.  Maybe there’s hope for me yet.

It’s my last day temping today; my last day of being a part-time slacker. On Monday, I shall be super-smiley and pretending to be sensible at my new job. My new full time job. Crumbs. It’s fifteen years since I actually worked all day, every day. With the boys away this week, I decided to get all prepared. You know the sort of thing: iron all the clothes I am ever likely to wear, do an internet shop so that I’m armed with sustenance when I arrive home, crumpled and weary, after a day’s toil. Obviously, I haven’t done any of those things.

I suppose, having already had my blog plundered by my new colleagues, they will be expecting me to be a little simple-minded. I’m sure they’ll understand when I’m clambering into my jim-jams and pouring a glass of wine at four o’clock.

Wish me luck…

In Search of Selflessness February 19, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 6 comments

It’s not often that I’m sensible but, sometimes, just sometimes, things are important enough to stop being silly for.

Caroline Smailes has done a good and clever thing. Ok, she’s always doing clever things but this is proper good.

Caroline has written a novella, Disraeli Avenue, which has grown from her stunning debut novel In Search of Adam, which is now out in paperback just in case you haven’t read it yet. (What d’you mean, you haven’t read it yet?)

Disraeli Avenue provides an unusual insight into the incidental and essential characters from In Search of Adam, giving a deeper understanding of the part that each plays in the book. Readers new to Disraeli Avenue will be mesmerized by the snapshots of individual lives lived on an average street. Those familiar with In Search of Adam can learn more about those involved in Jude Williams’ life.

Disraeli Avenue is available as a free download here. I’m staggered that everyone involved in the production of the novella has given their time and talent for free. It’s wonderful to be reminded that people really are, well, wonderful. They’ve given so generously in the hope that you will consider making a donation to One in Four, a registered charity that gives support for people who have experienced sexual abuse and sexual violence. Research has consistently shown that one in four children will experience sexual abuse before the age of 18.

You can download Disraeli Avenue and donate something, anything, from The Friday Project website.

Go on. It’s a fabulous read. Do something good; it might make you feel nice. Besides, just as in Disraeli Avenue, you never know what’s going on behind a closed door near you.

Of Mild Mortification February 15, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 20 comments

What a funny old week. Is it really Friday already? Hurrah.

So, let’s sum it up, shall we? Started new temp job. ‘Tis all very nice: nice people who remember my name even though I’m merely a humble temp; an adorable boss-lady who has not made me cry even once; a supersonic photocopying device that resembles a Concorde cockpit. I could photocopy my bottom and email it to everyone in a jiffy if I so desired. Luckily, my desire to do so has been contained so far.

I have been offered a super-duper new job. This means that I will no longer have to live on fluff and Marmite. Perhaps I’ll take a little pot with me to sniff when I’m alone in the new office though. Usually, in the traumatic first few weeks in a new job, I do at least try to appear normal. This is quite a strain, as you can imagine. Sadly, my (most lovely) new colleagues and boss have already discovered this pitiful melange of nitwittery. Oh my giddy aunt. I’m doomed. Maybe I could offer them a little lick of the fluff ‘n’ Marmite. That would do the trick.

Ho hum. Talk about starting on a back foot. Maybe, of course, it will work in my favour… after reading this piffle, they will be relieved that I am, in reality, utterly dull. And quiet as a mouse. And other things. Gawd. Bloody Google. I’m doomed, I tell you, doomed.


Of Tuesday Twitchery February 12, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 17 comments

I’m all of a fidget. Glad, of course, that The Novel is finished and tucked away for a bit. But I feel all New Year Resolutiony. Restless, you know? There’s so much I want to do but, having just started a new temp job, I sort of feel a bit bleurgh. Not that it’s taxing. Quite the opposite.

I suppose the trouble with temping is that no one expects you to know anything. They know you’re going to be rubbish and gormless and unable to even answer the phone without having a fainting fit. But, because one is so busy trying to get the tricky bits right, one makes a pig’s lug of the simple stuff, therefore appearing even more of a buffoon. To add to my weekday joy, after tomorrow’s buffoonery (including the exciting stunt of carrying some sandwiches, apparently) I have an interview with a country gent who sounds both posh and potty. Heaven help me. Maybe I’ll wear my interview high heels and then carry the sarnies. That’ll show them who’s a spaz.  Oh.  Oh dear.

So. Anyway. Restlessness. I’m rather missing writing. I want to have too much to do so that I have something proper to moan about. Going to work, photocopying three bits of paper without mishap before coming home again for a little lie down isn’t really doing it in the adrenalin department.

Therefore, this evening, I am going to: learn to play the guitar; learn to speak French; write six short stories for immediate publication; become thin; sort out the rest of my life.

There again, having my stubby little legs bunched up under a desk all day has made them kind of grumpy. Maybe I’ll just have a nice rest first… prepare myself for the interview. Hopefully, this chap won’t be tech-savvy enough to have discovered all my secrets before I get there.



Return to Reality February 10, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 17 comments

Well, enough’s enough. No more loafing about, eating fluff and Marmite and writing bits of nonsense. Time to earn some money while The Novel festers ferments. Monday morning = work. Oh joy, another temping job. I’m working on the theory that this one can’t possibly be as bad as the first few weeks of the last one.

I’ll do the temping ‘thing’. I’ll be nice. I’ll be smiley. Then I’ll come home and tell everyone about ventilation systems, how everyone was mean to me and shout a bit.

It’ll be good to get back to normal. Apart from anything else, I suspect I’m allergic to writing. I tried my suit on this morning and, seriously, I have totally swollen up…

Oh, ‘eck. I loathe starting new jobs. I’m going to have an early night and do a little bit of worrying now…


Of Midnight Madness February 8, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 37 comments

That’s it. I’ve finished writing The Novel. I was quite prepared to stay up until it was time to get up if I had to.

I wish I could say I felt happy. But I don’t feel anything. Well, utterly knacked out. That’s not very writerly or funky, is it?

Time for The Novel to ferment now. A month should do it. Yeah, right. I’m already thinking ways to tweak the ending. And bits I want to add in. Obsessed.

But. Tomorrow I am not going to think about it. Well, not much, anyway. I’m going to walk the dog, do yoga, snip at things in the garden. And we have tickets to see Mark Watson. Friday evening comedy. Bliss.

‘I’ve finished,’ I wearily told Lovely Bf. ‘That’s it, the first draft done.’

‘That’s brilliant,’ he exclaimed. ‘Any chance you could have a wash now?‘

Oh, yes, sheer glamour my life.

Of Timely Travail February 4, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 28 comments

Crikey. I’ve nearly finished writing The Novel. And do you think I feel happy about the impending end of this year-long toil? Nope. Instead, I feel all swirly in the tummy department. I don’t know why I feel so odd about it; I thought I’d be galloping towards the finish line, yelling and screaming and planning my prize. In fact, I actually feel physically sick that it’s coming to an end. Has the whole thing driven me quite mad?

I spent the weekend sobbing and wailing about being useless – being without a job or any source of income becomes a bit of a worry after a while. Needless to say, the fact that I’ve been slaving away on a novel didn’t count for anything. But it’s rubbish, I wailed to anyone who’d listen. The dog, mainly. The hairy bugger agreed with me too. Sigh.

Today, however, things are falling into place. I have a temp job lined up, starting on Monday. Phew.

But. All this sitting about, writing stuff down which I have thought of in my brain, has not done much for the diet. And I have become awfully scruffy. In fact, I have become so shamefully grotty, lurching about in either jim-jams or mud-splattered dog-walking gear that lovely bf presented me with a parcel today.

He had ordered me some clean clothes. Not going-out clothes, just staying-in-but-not-being-a-complete-state type clothes.

He had done his research by reading up on what Tranny and Susannah recommend for my body shape, apparently.

‘Oh yes?’ I asked, scowling. ‘And what body shape did you decide I have?’

Lovely bf looked a bit worried at this stage, knowing that there was unlikely to be a correct answer to this particular line of questioning.

‘You’re an egg-timer,’ he declared.

Oh good. I’m so happy now.

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