I promise that I will finish the A to Z of Facebook soon, in fact I have already scribbled most of it into my lovely suede bound cream journal but I want to tell you about my day.
Mum and Dad have been away for the last 3 months, they have been visiting the Australian Rellies. These include my brother Greg and my sister Jax. Thanks to you both for giving them such a good time x.... Anyway they flew in from Singapore yesterday, where Greg now lives. They boarded a coach at Heathrow after a good flight (there were 200 spare seats on their Quantas flight home), rang me to say they were on the coach but going straight through to Camborne which is about 35 miles from where I live in Bodmin. They usually stop off at Bodmin but they were shattered and wanted to fall over gracefully when they got home. I knew the coach was coming through Bodmin and hurriedly put together a food parcel of Bacon, Eggs, Milk, Bread etc..., filled a flask with hot tea and wrapped a bright orange pashmina around myself. I went to meet the coach, hoping that it would stop at Bodmin and stood in the icy wind, my carefully styled hair blown to bits. The lovely driver did spot me and stopped, asking if I had a Cornish Pasty about my person. I gave them a big hug and a kiss and sent them on their way. They looked tanned and exhausted but promised to see Joshy the next day.
I had a phone call from Pa at 9.30am this morning. They got home to utter chaos. The car wouldn't start, slurry was backing up into the washing machine (they live in a Barn Conversion in the wilds of Cornwall) and the house was stinking of damp with mould up the walls. I said no probs, I'll drive down and we'll get the car started and everything else will follow. I duly drove down to find that Pa had managed to start the car with a neighbour, who (thank you Elizabeth) had also cooked them a hot meal the previous evening and brought a dehumidfier for them to use.
I followed Pa to Truro to buy a new battery and to make sure that he could restart the car whilst filling up with petrol. Job done, or so I thought. We drove to my daughters in Truro and I went to park the car. Oops, small problem as my passenger side electric window refused to close. I rattled it a bit and with a huge 'thunk' it dropped neatly into the door frame. Oh Bugger! I drove back to Siany's and summoned my father. Now lets just pause for a minute and consider the fact that my 70 year old dad has flown from Oz to Singapore, spent 5 days in Singapore with my brother, experiencing a very fast five days of fun and frolics, boarded a flight to Blighty, stepped onto a coach for 7 hours, come back to domestic chaos and is now blearily considering my broken window - WIBBLE!
I drove to Staples, in the hope they may stock some clear plastic to temporarily shut the window as it was raining quite hard. Dad sat shivering in the passenger seat as I ran into the store. I found a load of Muppets discussing their love lives at Customer Services. 'Clear Plastic, nah, the computer says no'! Arrgghhhh..... I resisted the urge to throttle them and ran back to the car. Next stop was Homebase. I fully expected to find more persons similar to Kermit but found a brilliant bloke called Robin and explained my predicament. We hummed and haaa'd over a few options and then I saw a big light bulb go off above his head - PING! He dashed through the 'Staff Only' door and returned with a huge roll of cling film 'pallet wrap'. It was the cling film equivalent of the stuff you use to wrap someone up if you are an East End Gangster! He proceeded to turf a stunned Dad out of the car and between them they "clinged up" my door until it resembled a well wrapped sandwich!
I have to say here that it is not often that I come across the 'Robins' of this world. I am one of the 'Robins' and was delighted to discover another. It doesn't take a moment to help someone and have discussed this before under the heading 'Random Acts of Kindness'. Thank you Robin for your RAK, it was so appreciated when I needed a little TLC during a long day.
Back at the daughters it was decided that Dad would drive me home in his car and Mum would drive my clingy motor back to Camborne, where Dad would spend the weekend mending my window. My heroic dad then drove me back to Bodmin and set off on a dark rainy night back to Camborne. So here I am explaining it all to you but it needed a mention because how many Dads would do that? Here I am riding in to help on my little Micra White Charger and my dad, despite his exhaustion and fuddled brain has dipped deep into his reserves and become (once again) my Hero.
I am such a Lucky Girl.
Saturday, 28 January 2012
Monday, 23 January 2012
My A to Z of Facebook - Part One
This Blog has been a long time coming and recent changes to Facebook mean that I have to get it out of my system so here goes.... WARNING! Some of this is funny but some of it may make you squirm!
A is for Affairs of The Heart and all the angst and fall out they cause. There is actually a website called Facebook Cheating.com . According to The Telegraph, 1 in 5 affairs are conducted through Facebook. Now, I'm not going to preach to you because I was one of those statistics. I am single and he was very married. An old school friend, yeah, I know, but this was a few years back. I really thought he was a decent person. But Keith (and you are very lucky I don't mention your full name on here) was a pathological liar, shoplifter and collector of sexual diseases. He was sleeping with several women and was obviously too stupid to understand the term 'safe sex' because he managed to give his long suffering wife genital warts. Luckily I managed to extricate myself from the situation before I was exposed to any nasties. His wife likes to comment on my Blog from time to time, putting the blame firmly at my door. Blame? and you still want him love? My only regret is losing a lovely girlfriend because of his lies. If you're going to do it, then don't! It really isn't worth the fall out.
B is for Bejewelled Blitz .This is one of the most addictive games known to man and has ruined my life, it is more addictive than crack. I can give it up (she says sniffing into her sleeve), I can beat it and I CAN remain top of the leaderboard no matter what it takes! Bejewelled is something you play with your friends. In fact, I am so friendly on it that I never share points and tie my son to the bed until he gives in and sends me at least 10 lots of points via his FB account. I have also been known to withold food until he agrees!
C is for CIA or Intelligence Agencies thereof; Yes it IS true. The CIA/FBI/GCHQ/POLIS.... are all reading your posts, in fact they think it's their birthday. They love Social Networking Sites and cannot believe their luck that all this information just dropped into their laps. I have a guy on my timeline who works in Afghanistan and regularly posts his flight details and locations. Hilarious! Bet he isn't going to get promoted anytime soon. Yes! Big Brother is watching you. Now behave :)
D is for Drunk When I was a few years younger I used to phone girlfriends/exes/whoever when I had, had far to much of the Pink stuff. Then I progressed to texting, that was terrific fun and now.... Hmmm, well I think we have left the one dimensional phone/text scenario behind in favour of Social Networking.
Step One - Have far too much of the wet stuff, get bored with the crap on Telly and Log on.
Step Two - Look at all your friends profiles in a Stalkerish manner and leave inappropriate comments on their photos.
Step Three - Enter Facebook Chat at 3 a.m and talk a large load of rubbish to people you hardly know.
Step Four - Pass out and wonder, upon waking, why you are nose down on your keyboard and have 57 notifications and 18 messages in your inbox!
If you are planning a heavy night then I strongly suggest that you unplug the 'pute and disable the router!
E is for Editing Always ensure that you understand a Facebook post/comment cannot be removed. Perhaps you have just commented and made a really bad typo such as "I thought your brother was a Wanker" (replace the W with a B). Lawksamighty, you are understandedly mortified. So, it's been 20 seconds since you posted and luck has it that you have spotted your horrendous typo. 'Phew, I'll just delete it and repost' you mutter to yourself. WRONG! Every single person with a smartphone has just read your comment, in all its glory and it's only the poor saps on a PC that are wondering what the joke is about! Think! before you press that magic Enter button!
F is for Facebook The Great God Facebook has become our new religion. Some statistics for you. Facebook has over 800 million users and apparently the average user has roughly 130 friends. It's that six degrees of separation thing that fascinates me. Imagine my feelings when I managed to track down some 30 odd school friends. For those that have lived in the same town all their lives, this may be no big deal. But for me, a Donut Child (forces brat) and then an Army wife, constantly on the move, it brought a whole new dimension to my life. We all attended so many schools that I never thought I would ever see any of my friends again. Facebook has given me an enormous amount of pleasure, a smidge of grief and I think I would cry if they closed down my FB account. My father, being ex-GCHQ, shudders at the mention of FB and refuses to pose for photos if he knows I am going to post them. He is, of course, right to be wary. Social Networking is in it's infancy and only time will tell whether the information we post on our walls/timelines will be available to prospective employers/insurance companies. Note to self - Think about what you post.
G is for Girlfriends Or for that matter Friends as I already did F above! You may think that you should count all those on your wall as friends but you (and I) are sadly wrong. Many of us have subdivisions of our friends which are as follows.
a) Stalker - a person who is always on FB, has their laptop constantly by their side and comments on everything. They love to 'copy and paste' irritating messages and threaten to break your legs if you do not follow suit! This person also likes to share their entire back catalogue of fave You Tube Videos with you. You are one click away from deleting them but a perverse fascination makes you continue.
b) Friends that share nothing, only pop up once in a blue mooon and you find yourself grinding your teeth and willing them to share a bit more so you can be nosy.
c) Family members, such as older children. Only kept for their ability to curb your wild side and ensure you keep in touch with Great Aunt Batty.
d) Interesting and semi famous people who you love to have on your wall as you need the street cred they provide.
e) And finally, those that make you smile, post interesting and thoughtful comments or you fancy the pants off them and.....FB comes full circle!
Just remember if you have more 'friends' than you can count on the fingers of one hand, you are horribly deluded!
Thats it for tonight. More to follow soon.
A is for Affairs of The Heart and all the angst and fall out they cause. There is actually a website called Facebook Cheating.com . According to The Telegraph, 1 in 5 affairs are conducted through Facebook. Now, I'm not going to preach to you because I was one of those statistics. I am single and he was very married. An old school friend, yeah, I know, but this was a few years back. I really thought he was a decent person. But Keith (and you are very lucky I don't mention your full name on here) was a pathological liar, shoplifter and collector of sexual diseases. He was sleeping with several women and was obviously too stupid to understand the term 'safe sex' because he managed to give his long suffering wife genital warts. Luckily I managed to extricate myself from the situation before I was exposed to any nasties. His wife likes to comment on my Blog from time to time, putting the blame firmly at my door. Blame? and you still want him love? My only regret is losing a lovely girlfriend because of his lies. If you're going to do it, then don't! It really isn't worth the fall out.
B is for Bejewelled Blitz .This is one of the most addictive games known to man and has ruined my life, it is more addictive than crack. I can give it up (she says sniffing into her sleeve), I can beat it and I CAN remain top of the leaderboard no matter what it takes! Bejewelled is something you play with your friends. In fact, I am so friendly on it that I never share points and tie my son to the bed until he gives in and sends me at least 10 lots of points via his FB account. I have also been known to withold food until he agrees!
C is for CIA or Intelligence Agencies thereof; Yes it IS true. The CIA/FBI/GCHQ/POLIS.... are all reading your posts, in fact they think it's their birthday. They love Social Networking Sites and cannot believe their luck that all this information just dropped into their laps. I have a guy on my timeline who works in Afghanistan and regularly posts his flight details and locations. Hilarious! Bet he isn't going to get promoted anytime soon. Yes! Big Brother is watching you. Now behave :)
D is for Drunk When I was a few years younger I used to phone girlfriends/exes/whoever when I had, had far to much of the Pink stuff. Then I progressed to texting, that was terrific fun and now.... Hmmm, well I think we have left the one dimensional phone/text scenario behind in favour of Social Networking.
Step One - Have far too much of the wet stuff, get bored with the crap on Telly and Log on.
Step Two - Look at all your friends profiles in a Stalkerish manner and leave inappropriate comments on their photos.
Step Three - Enter Facebook Chat at 3 a.m and talk a large load of rubbish to people you hardly know.
Step Four - Pass out and wonder, upon waking, why you are nose down on your keyboard and have 57 notifications and 18 messages in your inbox!
If you are planning a heavy night then I strongly suggest that you unplug the 'pute and disable the router!
E is for Editing Always ensure that you understand a Facebook post/comment cannot be removed. Perhaps you have just commented and made a really bad typo such as "I thought your brother was a Wanker" (replace the W with a B). Lawksamighty, you are understandedly mortified. So, it's been 20 seconds since you posted and luck has it that you have spotted your horrendous typo. 'Phew, I'll just delete it and repost' you mutter to yourself. WRONG! Every single person with a smartphone has just read your comment, in all its glory and it's only the poor saps on a PC that are wondering what the joke is about! Think! before you press that magic Enter button!
F is for Facebook The Great God Facebook has become our new religion. Some statistics for you. Facebook has over 800 million users and apparently the average user has roughly 130 friends. It's that six degrees of separation thing that fascinates me. Imagine my feelings when I managed to track down some 30 odd school friends. For those that have lived in the same town all their lives, this may be no big deal. But for me, a Donut Child (forces brat) and then an Army wife, constantly on the move, it brought a whole new dimension to my life. We all attended so many schools that I never thought I would ever see any of my friends again. Facebook has given me an enormous amount of pleasure, a smidge of grief and I think I would cry if they closed down my FB account. My father, being ex-GCHQ, shudders at the mention of FB and refuses to pose for photos if he knows I am going to post them. He is, of course, right to be wary. Social Networking is in it's infancy and only time will tell whether the information we post on our walls/timelines will be available to prospective employers/insurance companies. Note to self - Think about what you post.
G is for Girlfriends Or for that matter Friends as I already did F above! You may think that you should count all those on your wall as friends but you (and I) are sadly wrong. Many of us have subdivisions of our friends which are as follows.
a) Stalker - a person who is always on FB, has their laptop constantly by their side and comments on everything. They love to 'copy and paste' irritating messages and threaten to break your legs if you do not follow suit! This person also likes to share their entire back catalogue of fave You Tube Videos with you. You are one click away from deleting them but a perverse fascination makes you continue.
b) Friends that share nothing, only pop up once in a blue mooon and you find yourself grinding your teeth and willing them to share a bit more so you can be nosy.
c) Family members, such as older children. Only kept for their ability to curb your wild side and ensure you keep in touch with Great Aunt Batty.
d) Interesting and semi famous people who you love to have on your wall as you need the street cred they provide.
e) And finally, those that make you smile, post interesting and thoughtful comments or you fancy the pants off them and.....FB comes full circle!
Just remember if you have more 'friends' than you can count on the fingers of one hand, you are horribly deluded!
Thats it for tonight. More to follow soon.
Saturday, 14 January 2012
Surviving.
I am sticking on the book theme for tonight and deliberately avoiding the man subject. No doubt, I will explain in a later Blog. I have been reading the sequel to The Legend of Heorot. I have Blogged about this before. The sequel is called Beowulfs Children. I read the original book 20 years ago and last month read it again.
The original book is about colonising an Earth like planet that seems friendly but as the colonists discover more about the planet, it becomes apparent that they have misjudged the Ecology and have to fight for their lives when they discover a terrible monster called a Grendel, hence the Beowulf theme.
I think what entranced me about the original book was the question... If you were going to a Planet that would take you 100 years to reach, what would you take with you? What would you need to survive? Imagine a sort of Noah's Ark of the future. Every sort of plant seed, human/animal embryo, mining equipment, ad infinitum. The list went on. How would we survive if we had to start from scratch?
In our modern western world it would not take much to kill off most of us. As a bone fide Donut Child my father and I discussed this one night about 10 years ago. 'Just take out the power and most of us would be dead' said my father gleefully. I disagreed with him and said 'Nah, I know exactly what to do to survive.' He concurred that I probably could but how would I cope if I was older. So here I am, 10 years older and much wiser, about the art of survival but also much weaker, more unfit and finally realising that if the power went off I could probably survive longer than some, but not much....
Why am I fixated on this question, you ask? Well, first of all because I am a Donut Child and second because of what is happening in our lives today. The recession bites ever deeper, The Daily Mail adores scaring the pants off us with scaremonger articles and I have to admit, even that scurrilous little rag does have a point.
There is a new survivalist Middle England emerging through the financial crises. Many people are buying food and household items in bulk because they do not have any idea as to what will happen next. Garages that once housed Porches and Lamborginis are full of bottled water, baked beans and pasta. American companies who supply longlife food packs are cashing in - the cost of their foods are astronomical. One British man has sensibly decided to ignore their marketing ploys and adds two bottles of water and four cans of baked beans to his weekly shop. His attitude is that if the shit hits the fan, he will at least have something to eat. Frankly, if I had that much tinned food in my garage, I may just decide to buy a gun and seal the deal! Those of you who know me understand that I do have cupboards bursting with long life food because I have obviously watched far to many disaster movies and I have been brought up to understand that YOU are the only one you can rely on. Erm...Ray Mears also features heavily.
I suppose the big question you should ask yourself is 'If the little Western bubble that we live in did break down what would I do?' For me the answer is simple. If it was a Nuclear War then I would try and get into the centre of London, get extremely drunk and welcome that big blinding light. If it was a nasty virus/contaminated water system then I'd probably find a chemist and make sure me and mine were blissfully asleep before anything painful happened to us. Anything else? I suppose I'd try my best to survive. I'm not sure how long I would manage it though.
We all have the will to survive, it is part of who we are. The challenges that daily life throws at us are ever changing and in some way we manage to wind our way through the maze of our individual worlds and persevere. For me, I think I'll carry on with the bottled water and the pasta but ultimately the day to day thing is a lot harder than the planning for Armaggedon. Ce La Vie - Thats Life!
The original book is about colonising an Earth like planet that seems friendly but as the colonists discover more about the planet, it becomes apparent that they have misjudged the Ecology and have to fight for their lives when they discover a terrible monster called a Grendel, hence the Beowulf theme.
I think what entranced me about the original book was the question... If you were going to a Planet that would take you 100 years to reach, what would you take with you? What would you need to survive? Imagine a sort of Noah's Ark of the future. Every sort of plant seed, human/animal embryo, mining equipment, ad infinitum. The list went on. How would we survive if we had to start from scratch?
In our modern western world it would not take much to kill off most of us. As a bone fide Donut Child my father and I discussed this one night about 10 years ago. 'Just take out the power and most of us would be dead' said my father gleefully. I disagreed with him and said 'Nah, I know exactly what to do to survive.' He concurred that I probably could but how would I cope if I was older. So here I am, 10 years older and much wiser, about the art of survival but also much weaker, more unfit and finally realising that if the power went off I could probably survive longer than some, but not much....
Why am I fixated on this question, you ask? Well, first of all because I am a Donut Child and second because of what is happening in our lives today. The recession bites ever deeper, The Daily Mail adores scaring the pants off us with scaremonger articles and I have to admit, even that scurrilous little rag does have a point.
There is a new survivalist Middle England emerging through the financial crises. Many people are buying food and household items in bulk because they do not have any idea as to what will happen next. Garages that once housed Porches and Lamborginis are full of bottled water, baked beans and pasta. American companies who supply longlife food packs are cashing in - the cost of their foods are astronomical. One British man has sensibly decided to ignore their marketing ploys and adds two bottles of water and four cans of baked beans to his weekly shop. His attitude is that if the shit hits the fan, he will at least have something to eat. Frankly, if I had that much tinned food in my garage, I may just decide to buy a gun and seal the deal! Those of you who know me understand that I do have cupboards bursting with long life food because I have obviously watched far to many disaster movies and I have been brought up to understand that YOU are the only one you can rely on. Erm...Ray Mears also features heavily.
I suppose the big question you should ask yourself is 'If the little Western bubble that we live in did break down what would I do?' For me the answer is simple. If it was a Nuclear War then I would try and get into the centre of London, get extremely drunk and welcome that big blinding light. If it was a nasty virus/contaminated water system then I'd probably find a chemist and make sure me and mine were blissfully asleep before anything painful happened to us. Anything else? I suppose I'd try my best to survive. I'm not sure how long I would manage it though.
We all have the will to survive, it is part of who we are. The challenges that daily life throws at us are ever changing and in some way we manage to wind our way through the maze of our individual worlds and persevere. For me, I think I'll carry on with the bottled water and the pasta but ultimately the day to day thing is a lot harder than the planning for Armaggedon. Ce La Vie - Thats Life!
Wednesday, 4 January 2012
Yin and Yang
Happy New Year to you all.
I've written this in longhand first, or scribbled should I say. I've got out of the habit of blogging and the computer silently mocks me from the corner of the room. I get so tired in the evenings so most of my important thoughts whirl around my head when I'm in my bed. Yes, yes...I know that my father thinks I am surgically attached to it, but honestly, for a variety of reasons, I have to have a few more 'Duvet Days' than most. So I thought why not go back a step? That way I can scribble away to my hearts content and snooze between sentences.
I also finally caught up with Eden Riley's Blog 'Edenland'. I hate the word AWESOME but thats what she is! I've been reading her Blog for just over a year and she is my inspiration for sticking with it. It wasn't always that way. Some of her posts were downright whiny or far too 'Mommy Blogger' for me. I think she's a bit like Adele, she writes her most impressive stuff when she's facing a challenge in her life. She really has blossomed this year and grown up as a writer, something I need to do! A'hem... What strikes me about Eden is whatever life throws her, she steadfastly Blogs through it, climbing mountains and looking down upon us mere mortals as we fail at the first fence. Eden suggested that we go back to basics, stop giving a shit about what people think and pick up a pen. That's what I did this morning. Thanks for taking the time to encourage me Eden. I wrote this entire Blog in about 20 minutes flat. Result!
From writing to another of my favourite things, reading. My children bought me Kindle for Christmas. Those that know me well understand my life long love affair with books. I could read at three, had my head in Du Maurier at nine and did the entire works of Tolkien at eleven. I love the smell, the feel of paper, the comfort of falling asleep with one upon my chest. I adore used books, scouring charity shops and happily hauling heavy loads home. Leaving books at a bus stop, in a phone box (usually with a peg upon my nose) fills me with pleasure. I linger in the Library and despite my best intentions, I buy half the books from their sale shelf and innocently wonder where I will put them all. Reading 'One Day' by David Nichols was memorable because the whole thing stank of weed - that was fun, a second hand high as well as the one provided by Mr Nicholls!
I lust after new and shiny Art and Travel books on a daily basis. So why on earth would I want a Kindle? Why? Beacause I soon realised that a Kindle would never kill my love for previously cherished books. A passion that deep would not be parted by a cold, hard, electronic box. I have to admit, even I did not realise how big that Brave New World was. Wow! It is stunning. The Kindle is super easy to use, light, warm and smooth. A Kindle does not object to me falling asleep on it or complain when I snore. It switches itself off quietly and never blinks at me with a smug 'low battery light'. I can lay in my bed and scroll happily through hundreds of delicious titles. Even the scrolling is fun. After making my choice, I press a button and Ping, there it is. Actually Kindles are quiet thoughtful souls and have never been heard to speak in public. A slight problem is that during the first week I read SIX book. For some reason I can read stuff on it faster than on paper. I have no idea why.
So there you are, high praise indeed from a technophobic luddite. There is one issue for me but I am sure they will work it out in time. I think that whoever transcribes the books does so using 'voice recognition' technology. A word of caution here Book Editors. If you are determined to Bastardise the entire English language into a 'Mid Western American Twang' then I think you will lose more readers than you gain. Please sort it out. My only other niggle is that I now sleep with far too many electronic devices to be healthy! Yin and Yang, its a weird old world as I revisit my shaky handwriting and embrace a shiny new technology.
I've written this in longhand first, or scribbled should I say. I've got out of the habit of blogging and the computer silently mocks me from the corner of the room. I get so tired in the evenings so most of my important thoughts whirl around my head when I'm in my bed. Yes, yes...I know that my father thinks I am surgically attached to it, but honestly, for a variety of reasons, I have to have a few more 'Duvet Days' than most. So I thought why not go back a step? That way I can scribble away to my hearts content and snooze between sentences.
I also finally caught up with Eden Riley's Blog 'Edenland'. I hate the word AWESOME but thats what she is! I've been reading her Blog for just over a year and she is my inspiration for sticking with it. It wasn't always that way. Some of her posts were downright whiny or far too 'Mommy Blogger' for me. I think she's a bit like Adele, she writes her most impressive stuff when she's facing a challenge in her life. She really has blossomed this year and grown up as a writer, something I need to do! A'hem... What strikes me about Eden is whatever life throws her, she steadfastly Blogs through it, climbing mountains and looking down upon us mere mortals as we fail at the first fence. Eden suggested that we go back to basics, stop giving a shit about what people think and pick up a pen. That's what I did this morning. Thanks for taking the time to encourage me Eden. I wrote this entire Blog in about 20 minutes flat. Result!
From writing to another of my favourite things, reading. My children bought me Kindle for Christmas. Those that know me well understand my life long love affair with books. I could read at three, had my head in Du Maurier at nine and did the entire works of Tolkien at eleven. I love the smell, the feel of paper, the comfort of falling asleep with one upon my chest. I adore used books, scouring charity shops and happily hauling heavy loads home. Leaving books at a bus stop, in a phone box (usually with a peg upon my nose) fills me with pleasure. I linger in the Library and despite my best intentions, I buy half the books from their sale shelf and innocently wonder where I will put them all. Reading 'One Day' by David Nichols was memorable because the whole thing stank of weed - that was fun, a second hand high as well as the one provided by Mr Nicholls!
I lust after new and shiny Art and Travel books on a daily basis. So why on earth would I want a Kindle? Why? Beacause I soon realised that a Kindle would never kill my love for previously cherished books. A passion that deep would not be parted by a cold, hard, electronic box. I have to admit, even I did not realise how big that Brave New World was. Wow! It is stunning. The Kindle is super easy to use, light, warm and smooth. A Kindle does not object to me falling asleep on it or complain when I snore. It switches itself off quietly and never blinks at me with a smug 'low battery light'. I can lay in my bed and scroll happily through hundreds of delicious titles. Even the scrolling is fun. After making my choice, I press a button and Ping, there it is. Actually Kindles are quiet thoughtful souls and have never been heard to speak in public. A slight problem is that during the first week I read SIX book. For some reason I can read stuff on it faster than on paper. I have no idea why.
So there you are, high praise indeed from a technophobic luddite. There is one issue for me but I am sure they will work it out in time. I think that whoever transcribes the books does so using 'voice recognition' technology. A word of caution here Book Editors. If you are determined to Bastardise the entire English language into a 'Mid Western American Twang' then I think you will lose more readers than you gain. Please sort it out. My only other niggle is that I now sleep with far too many electronic devices to be healthy! Yin and Yang, its a weird old world as I revisit my shaky handwriting and embrace a shiny new technology.
Friday, 9 December 2011
Moor Harmony and a Vocal Sex Change!
After a long spell of ennuii I really had to get off my bottom and do something. Some new pills have made me feel a bit better of late so I spent a few weeks thinking about what I wanted to do. The answer came to me in the form of a programme called The Choir. Gareth Malone, he of the serious glasses, terrific musical talent and the looks of a 12 year old got me all fired up when he formed a Choir at RMB Chivenor in Devon. The Choir was the story of a group of military wives who find solace and cheer in music whilst their husbands are away on a tour of Afghanistan. The programme held me rapt. I cried, laughed and cheered along with them. Our Gareth triumphed and all was well in Forces Land. The men came home safe and as I write this The Military Wives Choir are are tipped for a Christmas number one slot with their single 'Wherever You Are'.
In my experience, almost all of us can sing in one form or another but most of us left singing behind along with our O levels. I certainly did. Apart from the odd wedding/funeral it has been 30 years since I sang a song. I have tried in the car but The Git (who has of course been blessed with perfect pitch) shouts at me to shut up so I honestly thought I was a bit crap!
I rang a choir called Moor Harmony, at least I thought they were a choir but I was quickly corrected. They are a Ladies Barbershop Chorus. 'Really' said I 'Blimey, I thought that stuff was for blokes and extremely hard to sing'. I was encouraged by Mel to come and have a go so it was with trepidation that I arrived in Wadebridge to do just that. I was shaking like a leaf and after saying a quick hello I spent the next 15 mins on the loo!
Sian, the Musical Director took me into another room to see what my range was. I always sang Soprano back in the 'olden days' but as I opened my mouth to follow her notes a deep rumbling Bass wandered out. I clapped my hand over my mouth in complete shock. Bugger, was that actually me? Sian laughed at my confusion and placed me firmly in the Bass section. Oh the shame....I was going to sound like a Bloke, or so I thought...
Okay, so just consider this, I haven't sung for 30 years, I have just been told I have had a vocal sex change and now they are asking me to do warm up exercises. This involved jigging about the hall like a disjointed giraffe. I was the giraffe the others were all swans to my stumbles. Actually I had to sit some of that out after nearly falling over a few times. I thought it might be best to try and get to the singing part in one piece.
Now came the hard bit. After warming up our vocal chords with me rumbling along in entirely the wrong places, I was given a piece of sheet music and asked to join in. Now I may not be a soloist but I have a good ear and am a natural mimic. These dubious talents ensured that I could Blag it for the first half of proceedings. This involved identifying the clearest singer among the Basses and attatching myself firmly to her side.
All I can say is what a blast this evening has been. Once I had found a smidgen of confidence, I lost myself in the music and started to learn how to sing in parts. At one point I carried on singing when all had stopped, swiftly clapped my hand over my mouth and blushed a deep shade of crimson which was tempered with a slight amazement at the sound coming out of my mouth. So I am renewed and feeling happy and exhausted. It's not easy, it's hard work. You constantly have to rehydrate and I have to admit I got extremely tired. A lot of laughter was shared among us and I can't wait for next week. Thanks to all the girls in Moor Harmony for making me feel so welcome.
I just want to end this Blog by saying that most of us left singing behind with religion as the 'Great God Supermarket' seems to be our only form of religion today. Some of us will sing at the Carol Service in the next couple of weeks or hum along at the Nativity Play but that will be it for another year. I would encourage anyone to join a Choir/Barbershop Group because the rush you experience whilst revisiting your vocal chords is better than any Dirty Martini you could ever mix!
The Ladies of 'Moor Harmony' are performing live at The Callywith Pub tonight. So if you live in Bodmin then go along and support them. I shall be there to provide a bit of moral support but I have a long way to go before I get up there with them.
In my experience, almost all of us can sing in one form or another but most of us left singing behind along with our O levels. I certainly did. Apart from the odd wedding/funeral it has been 30 years since I sang a song. I have tried in the car but The Git (who has of course been blessed with perfect pitch) shouts at me to shut up so I honestly thought I was a bit crap!
I rang a choir called Moor Harmony, at least I thought they were a choir but I was quickly corrected. They are a Ladies Barbershop Chorus. 'Really' said I 'Blimey, I thought that stuff was for blokes and extremely hard to sing'. I was encouraged by Mel to come and have a go so it was with trepidation that I arrived in Wadebridge to do just that. I was shaking like a leaf and after saying a quick hello I spent the next 15 mins on the loo!
Sian, the Musical Director took me into another room to see what my range was. I always sang Soprano back in the 'olden days' but as I opened my mouth to follow her notes a deep rumbling Bass wandered out. I clapped my hand over my mouth in complete shock. Bugger, was that actually me? Sian laughed at my confusion and placed me firmly in the Bass section. Oh the shame....I was going to sound like a Bloke, or so I thought...
Okay, so just consider this, I haven't sung for 30 years, I have just been told I have had a vocal sex change and now they are asking me to do warm up exercises. This involved jigging about the hall like a disjointed giraffe. I was the giraffe the others were all swans to my stumbles. Actually I had to sit some of that out after nearly falling over a few times. I thought it might be best to try and get to the singing part in one piece.
Now came the hard bit. After warming up our vocal chords with me rumbling along in entirely the wrong places, I was given a piece of sheet music and asked to join in. Now I may not be a soloist but I have a good ear and am a natural mimic. These dubious talents ensured that I could Blag it for the first half of proceedings. This involved identifying the clearest singer among the Basses and attatching myself firmly to her side.
All I can say is what a blast this evening has been. Once I had found a smidgen of confidence, I lost myself in the music and started to learn how to sing in parts. At one point I carried on singing when all had stopped, swiftly clapped my hand over my mouth and blushed a deep shade of crimson which was tempered with a slight amazement at the sound coming out of my mouth. So I am renewed and feeling happy and exhausted. It's not easy, it's hard work. You constantly have to rehydrate and I have to admit I got extremely tired. A lot of laughter was shared among us and I can't wait for next week. Thanks to all the girls in Moor Harmony for making me feel so welcome.
I just want to end this Blog by saying that most of us left singing behind with religion as the 'Great God Supermarket' seems to be our only form of religion today. Some of us will sing at the Carol Service in the next couple of weeks or hum along at the Nativity Play but that will be it for another year. I would encourage anyone to join a Choir/Barbershop Group because the rush you experience whilst revisiting your vocal chords is better than any Dirty Martini you could ever mix!
The Ladies of 'Moor Harmony' are performing live at The Callywith Pub tonight. So if you live in Bodmin then go along and support them. I shall be there to provide a bit of moral support but I have a long way to go before I get up there with them.
In The Shadow of Donut Child.
Here I am again. I have to admit that I have failed miserably to create a new Blog. I cannot shake Donut Child off however hard I try. I wanted to create something that was a bit less personal. I yearned to be more professional, casting a cool arched eyebrow over the various news stories of the day. I aspired to the likes of Suzanne Moore, Caitlin Moran and Deborah Orr. All of whom I follow avidly on Twitter.
I also had a number of emails asking me why I had tried to kill off Donut Child and a lot friends told me they missed it, particularly the very busy side bar. Thanks to all of you for your generous comments. Then a famous publisher sent me a book to review and the writer of this book also encouraged me (review coming soon!) I had to admit deafeat. I just needed to realise that I wasn't Caitlin Moran, I was Donut Child with my own style of writing and should stick with that because despite not writing for three months 400 people read this Blog last month. Well I say 'read' they probably had a cursory glance and thought where the heck is she?
So to cut a long story short, I have had a 3 month break and am raring to go again. So be gentle with me won't you!
I also had a number of emails asking me why I had tried to kill off Donut Child and a lot friends told me they missed it, particularly the very busy side bar. Thanks to all of you for your generous comments. Then a famous publisher sent me a book to review and the writer of this book also encouraged me (review coming soon!) I had to admit deafeat. I just needed to realise that I wasn't Caitlin Moran, I was Donut Child with my own style of writing and should stick with that because despite not writing for three months 400 people read this Blog last month. Well I say 'read' they probably had a cursory glance and thought where the heck is she?
So to cut a long story short, I have had a 3 month break and am raring to go again. So be gentle with me won't you!
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
Ascension Island. - Bungalow 17. For Jane x
I have been very fortunate to visit Ascension Island three times. Not many people get to do that on HOLIDAY! My Dad was out there having fun on the Donuts expense account. A lovely girl called Jane Williams posted on the ASI Facebook page and was worried about serving a 3 year tour of ASI, accompanied by large centipedes and small children - aged 1 and 3 as I recall - the kids not the crawly things! I hope that I soothed her worries by asking if I could be her 'third child' I told her that the St Helenan's were wonderful, to check her bathroom carefully and to drink lots of shipwrecks! Perhaps not the greatest advice but honest I was sober there once, during my first visit....
I arrived on the great bird Tri Star, 16 weeks preggers with number one son. My Pa met me and I was shoved into a CSO nasty minibus, taken to English Bay (take note of this Jane) and introduced to a Moray Eel; a bit hot and stunned I was taken to The Exiles for lunch. Okay, Jane, that was the boring visit, where I spent a few weeks in hospital. I went into labour at 26 weeks and having no back up the Doc, Shubash sent me to sleep for about 4 days. My husband was somewhere in Norway for 4 months at the time and he could not speak to me because every time I woke up they fed me from The Galley, let me go for one 'wee' and sent me back to sleep. They realised that they had no 'back up' and decided that the only option was to send me to bed. My son James is now 23. Had I been in the UK at the time they would have left me alone and let me 'get on with it'. I was so lucky that I had a dedicated medical staff. By the way I got on the Tri Star at 16 weeks and got off it at 32 weeks. My hubby met me at Brize and nearly fainted at my size! Okay those were the 'Mummy Years. Time for the fun times! What follows is something published in THE ISLANDER on Friday 9th August 1996. Note to Jane...my parents were actually looking after my children at this time....
BACK TO ASCENSION - THE ISLANDER 1996
At last! Eight years on and I made it back to Ascension. Everyone on the plane thought I'd lost my marbles when, on final approach I jumped out of my seat and yelled 'Look its ASI...look, look its Ascension Island, we made it!' This is the person that needs four valium and a large vodka to even approach a plane! Ignoring strange looks and black mutterings from Falkland bound passengers, I scrambled over the poor soul who had endured my company for the last eight hours and was first off the plane.
I strode purposefully toward the Terminal, waving madly and making a complete spectacle of myself. I did however, resist the urge to kneel down and kiss the ground. 'Come on Chaps it's through here' I said , as I led all passengers into a 'no go' area. Running 'smack bang' into a very stern RAF chap, who said I should return quietly to the arrivals lounge or he would break out the emergency sraight jacket! Little did I know that the last time I had visited the island my dad had broken all the rules and met me at the gate..... I was soon surrounded by friends and family, dragged into Mrs Miggins for a cuppa, bundled into the 'I make you car sick machine' (read that as Lada Cossack) and driven at high speed..25 miles per hour to Two Boats.
I couldn't believe how green the Island had got since my last visit, but was soon to find out that the lovely green bits were in fact a secret military weapon the Mexicans had sent in place of Chili Con Carne. Ouch! That stuff hurts when you fall into it! I had forgotten about the friendly but dangerous habit of waving to everyone that you pass. I should point out that this is only dangerous when you drive a Lada Cossack! The scenery once again took my breath away and I kept pinching myself to make sure I was not dreaming! Lunch at The Exiles, a quick power nap and a wander round to explore. So many friendly and familiar faces (the Donkeys I mean). I was amazed to see how little had changed.
The next night I was introduced to The Senior Mess, where I found a lot of people whispering about Bar Chits. Bar chits are really rather wonderful, you put your name on a piece of paper and a nice man gives you a drink. Shipwreck is the alternative term I believe. Apparently my sister had visited the island before me and my dad's bar bills had broken all previously held records. I thought he was looking a bit ashen when he met me off the plane. So I showed him my wad of cash and also promised faithfully that I would put petrol in the car. John Fail shall be named as the man who poured my first shipwreck so you can all blame him!
The day of the Dew Pond Run arrived and feeling guilty I sat on the patio in my nightie, clutching my Lucozade and crunching on my Nurofen as I watched all these completely mad people running past. In fact I felt so guilty that I was compelled to do my own Dew Pond Run and asked Dad to drive me up the mountain. I am not silly enough to run UP it! I hummed the 'Sound of Music' as I broke both knees coming down the ramps, cursing myself for forgetting my camera. Oh No! I had got the walking bug, next stop four miles to North East Bay. This walking downhill isn't so bad, I said as he picked me up at the Ariane site. It also helps if you have an obliging Dad who drives you back uphill! Another walk to North East Bay and OUCH! Medic, two medics, I'm hurt bad - the left ankle, only used to depressing left clutch pedal, has gone on strike. As I sat in my usual pew at the Senior Mess that night, a strange man approched, lifted my left foot into his lap and started to undo my shoe. "Help, should I be letting this man do this", I cried. Perhaps this was another strange custom peculiar to Ascension Island. USO (Unsweetened Orange Juice) Merrick assured me that it was in fact the PTI holding Open Surgery at the Senior Mess.
Unable to walk far due to the ankle and not the shipwrecks, I hit the beach and on getting rather hot I decided to go for a swim. I had forgotten about the blackfish and decided to paddle instead. "Relation to the Piranha you know" said my father conversationally. It was to be a day of finding out about the 'Fauna' of Ascension. After having an unwelcome guest in the car (locust) I was lucky enough to find a centipede under my suitcase. My father came running into the bedroom as I stood on a chair and screamed loudly. He apparently thought I was being murdered. "Don't be such a baby mum" sighed Sian, rolling her eyes. A mention of the 'beasties' on Ascension is incomplete without a mention of our friend the 'Mosquito'. Have you noticed that the word Mosquito is synonymous with the word Grenade? People jump around, slapping their legs and generally causing havoc with the nerve agent gas also knoiwn as MOD fly spray Mark One! It is guaranteed to kill a human at three paces but the mosquito must sit there breathing deeply, saying "hey man, give me another hit, you hear what I'm saying"!
Onto the Flora of Ascension Island. Falling into bed after discovering the delights of shipwrecks, I bent down to undo my shoelaces and howled in pain as 500 'Double G's' embedded themselves in my left hand. 'Double G's' is the polite term for them but I can think of at least 10 impolite ones. In fact I think the boys in blue call them 'ouchy twats'! Being an adult (who said that?) I know the colours red and yellow in nature spell danger. My son and his friend obviously did not as they were having a great time bursting 'yellow flower bombs' on each other foreheads. This had the same effect of 15 packets of smarties, 4 fizzy drinks and a line of cocaine. "No darling, please don't do that" I said as James' eyeballs disappeared into the back of his head!
Enough of my ramblings. This Whitey from Blighty is sadly homeward bound very soon but will be returning tanned relaxed and very, very happy - note this another term for shipwrecked! Thank You to all the new friends and old, the hospitality has been wonderful. You never know, you may see me back again. I'll pose for the WANTED posters now! Last but not least thanks to my long suffering parents Jim and Pat Anderson and thanks for paying my bar bill dad!
So there you have it Jane. The 'polite' version of my bar room brawling on ASI where I also fell in love with The Gits dad and managed to climb The Exiles balcony, wearing 4 inch heels, ignoring the fact that I was 30 feet up and could expire at any moment! We had no air conditionng, no TV, no mobile phones and no Internet. The St Helenans are wonderful and my 23 and 26 year old children can still do the accent. My 26 yr old daughter, Sian keeps in touch with her childhood friends that landed in the UK.
Have a wonderful time.
Muse x
I arrived on the great bird Tri Star, 16 weeks preggers with number one son. My Pa met me and I was shoved into a CSO nasty minibus, taken to English Bay (take note of this Jane) and introduced to a Moray Eel; a bit hot and stunned I was taken to The Exiles for lunch. Okay, Jane, that was the boring visit, where I spent a few weeks in hospital. I went into labour at 26 weeks and having no back up the Doc, Shubash sent me to sleep for about 4 days. My husband was somewhere in Norway for 4 months at the time and he could not speak to me because every time I woke up they fed me from The Galley, let me go for one 'wee' and sent me back to sleep. They realised that they had no 'back up' and decided that the only option was to send me to bed. My son James is now 23. Had I been in the UK at the time they would have left me alone and let me 'get on with it'. I was so lucky that I had a dedicated medical staff. By the way I got on the Tri Star at 16 weeks and got off it at 32 weeks. My hubby met me at Brize and nearly fainted at my size! Okay those were the 'Mummy Years. Time for the fun times! What follows is something published in THE ISLANDER on Friday 9th August 1996. Note to Jane...my parents were actually looking after my children at this time....
BACK TO ASCENSION - THE ISLANDER 1996
At last! Eight years on and I made it back to Ascension. Everyone on the plane thought I'd lost my marbles when, on final approach I jumped out of my seat and yelled 'Look its ASI...look, look its Ascension Island, we made it!' This is the person that needs four valium and a large vodka to even approach a plane! Ignoring strange looks and black mutterings from Falkland bound passengers, I scrambled over the poor soul who had endured my company for the last eight hours and was first off the plane.
I strode purposefully toward the Terminal, waving madly and making a complete spectacle of myself. I did however, resist the urge to kneel down and kiss the ground. 'Come on Chaps it's through here' I said , as I led all passengers into a 'no go' area. Running 'smack bang' into a very stern RAF chap, who said I should return quietly to the arrivals lounge or he would break out the emergency sraight jacket! Little did I know that the last time I had visited the island my dad had broken all the rules and met me at the gate..... I was soon surrounded by friends and family, dragged into Mrs Miggins for a cuppa, bundled into the 'I make you car sick machine' (read that as Lada Cossack) and driven at high speed..25 miles per hour to Two Boats.
I couldn't believe how green the Island had got since my last visit, but was soon to find out that the lovely green bits were in fact a secret military weapon the Mexicans had sent in place of Chili Con Carne. Ouch! That stuff hurts when you fall into it! I had forgotten about the friendly but dangerous habit of waving to everyone that you pass. I should point out that this is only dangerous when you drive a Lada Cossack! The scenery once again took my breath away and I kept pinching myself to make sure I was not dreaming! Lunch at The Exiles, a quick power nap and a wander round to explore. So many friendly and familiar faces (the Donkeys I mean). I was amazed to see how little had changed.
The next night I was introduced to The Senior Mess, where I found a lot of people whispering about Bar Chits. Bar chits are really rather wonderful, you put your name on a piece of paper and a nice man gives you a drink. Shipwreck is the alternative term I believe. Apparently my sister had visited the island before me and my dad's bar bills had broken all previously held records. I thought he was looking a bit ashen when he met me off the plane. So I showed him my wad of cash and also promised faithfully that I would put petrol in the car. John Fail shall be named as the man who poured my first shipwreck so you can all blame him!
The day of the Dew Pond Run arrived and feeling guilty I sat on the patio in my nightie, clutching my Lucozade and crunching on my Nurofen as I watched all these completely mad people running past. In fact I felt so guilty that I was compelled to do my own Dew Pond Run and asked Dad to drive me up the mountain. I am not silly enough to run UP it! I hummed the 'Sound of Music' as I broke both knees coming down the ramps, cursing myself for forgetting my camera. Oh No! I had got the walking bug, next stop four miles to North East Bay. This walking downhill isn't so bad, I said as he picked me up at the Ariane site. It also helps if you have an obliging Dad who drives you back uphill! Another walk to North East Bay and OUCH! Medic, two medics, I'm hurt bad - the left ankle, only used to depressing left clutch pedal, has gone on strike. As I sat in my usual pew at the Senior Mess that night, a strange man approched, lifted my left foot into his lap and started to undo my shoe. "Help, should I be letting this man do this", I cried. Perhaps this was another strange custom peculiar to Ascension Island. USO (Unsweetened Orange Juice) Merrick assured me that it was in fact the PTI holding Open Surgery at the Senior Mess.
Unable to walk far due to the ankle and not the shipwrecks, I hit the beach and on getting rather hot I decided to go for a swim. I had forgotten about the blackfish and decided to paddle instead. "Relation to the Piranha you know" said my father conversationally. It was to be a day of finding out about the 'Fauna' of Ascension. After having an unwelcome guest in the car (locust) I was lucky enough to find a centipede under my suitcase. My father came running into the bedroom as I stood on a chair and screamed loudly. He apparently thought I was being murdered. "Don't be such a baby mum" sighed Sian, rolling her eyes. A mention of the 'beasties' on Ascension is incomplete without a mention of our friend the 'Mosquito'. Have you noticed that the word Mosquito is synonymous with the word Grenade? People jump around, slapping their legs and generally causing havoc with the nerve agent gas also knoiwn as MOD fly spray Mark One! It is guaranteed to kill a human at three paces but the mosquito must sit there breathing deeply, saying "hey man, give me another hit, you hear what I'm saying"!
Onto the Flora of Ascension Island. Falling into bed after discovering the delights of shipwrecks, I bent down to undo my shoelaces and howled in pain as 500 'Double G's' embedded themselves in my left hand. 'Double G's' is the polite term for them but I can think of at least 10 impolite ones. In fact I think the boys in blue call them 'ouchy twats'! Being an adult (who said that?) I know the colours red and yellow in nature spell danger. My son and his friend obviously did not as they were having a great time bursting 'yellow flower bombs' on each other foreheads. This had the same effect of 15 packets of smarties, 4 fizzy drinks and a line of cocaine. "No darling, please don't do that" I said as James' eyeballs disappeared into the back of his head!
Enough of my ramblings. This Whitey from Blighty is sadly homeward bound very soon but will be returning tanned relaxed and very, very happy - note this another term for shipwrecked! Thank You to all the new friends and old, the hospitality has been wonderful. You never know, you may see me back again. I'll pose for the WANTED posters now! Last but not least thanks to my long suffering parents Jim and Pat Anderson and thanks for paying my bar bill dad!
So there you have it Jane. The 'polite' version of my bar room brawling on ASI where I also fell in love with The Gits dad and managed to climb The Exiles balcony, wearing 4 inch heels, ignoring the fact that I was 30 feet up and could expire at any moment! We had no air conditionng, no TV, no mobile phones and no Internet. The St Helenans are wonderful and my 23 and 26 year old children can still do the accent. My 26 yr old daughter, Sian keeps in touch with her childhood friends that landed in the UK.
Have a wonderful time.
Muse x
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