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Mirror Mirror, On the Wall… December 23, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 26 comments

As you can guess from the title of this post, I’ve been reflecting. I know, it’s never a good idea. But I’ve been thinking about Novel 2 (to be bravely entitled Chameleon Karma). I have the basic theme wrangling about in my head and it appears to be one that keeps coming back again and again and something I’m fascinated with: identity.

Now, this blog used to be proper anonymous. But after this occasion when I rather gormlessly outed myself, I’ve been all too easy to find. And you know, it makes me feel a bit funny when people actually Google my name. Ok, yes, there’s more than one of me in the world and I’m not the cheerleading one from Ontario or the one with prize-winning canines.

Someone Googled me a few weeks ago. “Jen Maltby”. Which is weird as I know I’m the one they were looking for. But neither I nor anyone else usually call me those two names together. I’m Jenny-with-a-surname.

It reminded me of an aside from a colleague (who knew me pretty well) a few years ago as we tottered drunkenly home together after a Christmas party.

‘I do like Jen Maltby,’ he said. ‘But I often wonder what happened to Jenny Grihault.’

Just recently, I’ve been wondering that too. I think she’s still in there. And, while people change and morph all the time, I think I’m finally growing into ‘me’.

I’m going to be 40 in 2009 and, actually, I don’t think I mind. I recently found my very first school report… I was 5 years old…

“Jenny is a lovely girl and it shows in her eyes just how carefree and exciting life should be for her…”

Over the years that comment has, without exception, reduced me to tears. My life hadn’t turned out like that. It hadn’t turned out  right.  But I’ve decided that 2009 will be the year that teacher meant. Oh yes. Just you wait and see.

It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. I wish you sparkles and sequins or wellies and wilderness. Whatever you like. Although I did just typo ‘willies and wildnerness’. You can have that too, if you like.

Merry Christmas. Ho ho ho. And RAAAAAAAAAH.



Monday Mish-Mash (very nice with sausages) December 15, 2008

Posted by Jen in : A363 Open University, Journal , 24 comments

As you will see from this blog post, being the clever sort you are, I have no time to write a blog post.

It’s Monday – MONDAY! Oh, my sainted aunt’s pyjamas, as that Stephen Fry would say. I don’t know why he’d say it because it’s sort of nonsense but if The Fry would say it then I’m ruddy well going to say it too. Ok?

Monday then. Not just any old Monday. This Monday. The very Monday before the Friday on which I have to have concocted and written a play. Gadzooks. And eeeeeek. And other swear words that rhyme with ruck and frolics.

And there have been Christmassy things to attend to (i.e. practicing drinking blue sherry). And I have been very busy at work doing things I do not like to do, namely Agricultural Stocktakings. I cannot count and get in a pickle and then go home and have to drink more blue sherry which makes me have terrible, terrible dreams about the extra cows chasing me up the office stairs, their horrible slobbery Jamie Oliver tongues taunting and mocking me in a way only spare cows can do.

And I can’t decide whether one of the three characters should be a medieval prankster or an irritating Bradley Walsh sort of comedian. And I have my Christmas work party on Thursday evening, the very evening, before this play must be submitted. I have sneaky and quite, some might say,  sinister plans to make my four colleagues act out the play once they have had their quota of fun. I’m not sure which one to ask to grow a beard though.

So yes, there’s no time to write a blog post. I bet you’re relieved about that.

All together now… ♪♪♪ 3 crossbred heifers, 2 suckler cows and a partridge in a pear treeeeeee… ♪♪♪

Of Telephonic Torture December 1, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 31 comments

Oh my good God. It is, as I type these words of nonsense, 06.22am. Stumbling out of bed and groping blindly towards the stairs this morning, my heart leapt out of my body. It was that worst thing: the phone ringing. At 6 on the dot. And everyone knows that if the phone rings that early, it’s Bad News. And Bad News that happens on a Sunday in the dead of night is likely to involve… well, something terrible, that’s for sure.

‘Hello?’ I answered fearfully.

There was ominous silence… the gap between caller speaking and the delivery of the Something Terrible. I crept down the stairs, finally switching on a light and putting away my mobile phone which I’d been using as a torch.

‘Hello?’ I asked again. The caller couldn’t speak, obviously overwrought with Terribleness.

My heart pounded. I literally stood there, trembling. The line had gone dead. I dialed 1471. Taking a deep breath, I clicked ‘3′. I paused, daring it to ring, barely able to breathe again. Jumping as my mobile started to vibrate urgently in my dressing gown pocket.

‘Hello?’ I whispered hesitantly into my mobile. The News must be Bad – no one ever calls my mobile. It must be Mum – or Dad. Proper Bad News.

My discovery, as December unfolds stormily before us?

I am a complete and utter spaz. Accidentally pressing ‘redial’ on my mobile as I used it as a torch. Then being in such a state that I stood there, uncomprehendingly redialing my mobile from the land line.

The week can only get better from here. Can’t it? Oh.