Low Key High Flyer

Did I mention...

2010-02-19T17:12:00.002Z

...that I'm pregnant? In fact, I'm just about half way through, which seems like the right time to start blogging about it, as I start to assimilate to my ever-changing condition!

Been thinking recently that pregnancy reminds me a lot of being engaged.
- You begin with a burst of euphoria between the two of you (if lucky like me, that is)
- Then there is quite likely to be a slow phase where at some point you are scared / appalled / hormonally challenged / feel that you have signed your life away and wish to act like a teenager
- It's a lot of fun telling your close friends and family
- You settle (again, if lucky like me) into a warm glow of contentedness and anticipation
- Which can be expected in turn to give way to a manic few months of planning, followed by a joyous (you hope) but hectic occasion and the start of a new phase of your existence...

At any rate, I prefer that metaphor to my early conviction that pregnancy is a nine month illness followed by a dangerous operation...and I didn't even suffer from morning sickness! Have now got used to the fact that nothing, but nothing in my body works the way I am used to, and am mostly glowing. As a control freak and rampant individualist, I did rather dread the process of pregnancy, but find I am delighted to have been taken over by my very own little alien - must be the hormones, long may these ones keep flowing.

Always on?

2010-01-06T14:14:00.002Z

Back at work yesterday, then the snow struck and I have decided to take today as more leave.
Being back, and now at home but feeling I should be productive, has made me realise the guilty pleasure I took over Christmas and New Year in totally ignoring all my emails, facebook etc.

Why guilty? Because I love the internet. I work with a website for god's sake. I love blogging, I love keeping up with a wider circle of friends easily through blogs, facebook and twitter. I love online shopping. Oh, and I really don't like it when OTHER people ignore the emails I send them...

After a day of emails at work, it's understandable if I don't embrace my computer in the evening. But why the urge to hibernate away from the lot just when I am free to revel in it? I suspect it's the pressure of being 'always on', always just checking. For a myers-briggs introvert like myself it becomes wearing, the sense of the phone or laptop practically nudging my elbow every other minute. Some would say online is pretty solitary, but not for me. Good to be back with the blog, however!

Avatar 3D

2010-01-03T17:27:00.003Z

Yes those who carp about the story are absolutely correct - it's predictable, two-dimensional and probably objectionable in some of its detail. But that is to miss the point on several levels. First, of course, no one is going to see Avatar for the story, but for the blindingly stupendous, beautiful effects and the blend of real and CG. And also, to my mind, it's not about the story but it IS about the fable. This is not, in any traditional sense, a plot-driven film. But the story is quite deliberately a fable or parable - and guess what, they are almost always simplistic, in order to get a message across.

Anyway, what I mostly take from it is confirmation of my long held belief that people would be better with tails...

The Misanthrope

2010-01-03T17:16:00.002Z

Had a great evening yesterday at The Misanthrope. Although it's on at the Comedy Theatre and billed at such, it's very much witty - sometimes laugh out loud witty - but not comic. In fact if anything it's rather tragic.

Damian Lewis is really excellent in the title role, confirming my opinion from seeing him on TV - it's nice to see Keira Knightley graciously and successfully play second fiddle, with a very convincing American accent. The verse is very successfully translated to English and to a modern context - it takes a few lines to get used to but is never heavy-handed. The play is very pretty to look at, very entertaining and also gives plenty of food for thought about all kinds of lovely philosophical and linguistic issues around relativism, postmodernism and the fine line between tact and hypocrisy.

The ending, where Jenny (Keira) sees her media world in all its hypocritical, savage lack of support and yet still chooses it over Alceste (Damian) has the ring of absolute truth. And it's particularly great that although one's sympathies are generally with Alceste, he is very far from perfect, showing the ugly side of his arguments in mistrust and possessiveness, as well as a positively irritating lack of pragmatism or compromise. Satisfying on all levels.

A brief lapse into pedantry

2010-01-03T17:14:00.002Z

When you order your coffee, people, it's eSpresso, not eXpresso!!!

Hoovering the Roof

2009-11-29T14:00:00.002Z

So this week I can finally hold in my carefully washed hands an actual, published book featuring my work alongside that of the wonderful writers of the East Dulwich Writers' Group. SO EXCITING! I can safely say from personal experience that the anthology
- looks lovely on the shelf
- has a very charming cover as above (and a very superior back cover also with blurb by yours truly)
- really does include something for everyone and is perfect for reading in small bursts while commuting and the like.

I also gave my first public reading at our launch event at The Bookseller Crow on the Hill, which was nerve-wracking but apparently I did succeed in reading s-l-o-w-l-y which is very difficult and very important, especially for a poem.

For further information about the group and sales of this magnificent volume visit the EDWG website .

This is it

2009-11-05T10:45:00.002Z

I probably never would have chosen to see 'This is it', but went with my friend to a mother and baby screening. It's a good film to watch around babies - no plot to follow and some of them at least seem to enjoy the music.

Personally, I've always been in two minds about Michael Jackson. On the one hand, I don't believe he ever hurt a child. On the other, I was definitely on the Jarvis Cocker side of the whole Brit Awards debacle. But this film is genuinely special.

There's the poignantly double-edged title (of the planned tour & the film, echoed in the words of one of the dancers at the beginning - 'I was looking for something, to give meaning to my life - this is it').

The mini-interviews with dancers and musicians give a real sense of excitement at performing with their hero - it's wonderful to see them whooping and applauding Michael's rehearsals, and you wonder what has become of them since it all ended so abrubtly.

But most importantly, it is truly a pleasure to see someone who so often seemed out of place in the world working in his natural element. The music and video backdrops are sensational. I still loathe 'earthsong' (cos big music tours are so, er, eco-friendly? but maybe Michael was rich enough to offset it all...), but who can resist the classics - personal favourites are 'beat it', 'billie jean' and 'smooth criminal'. It would have been a great tour - but the film gives even more, as it shows Jackson the professional, a musical perfectionist with confidence in his perfomance and opinions, working behind the scenes to ensure the music 'nourishes', 'sizzles' and is 'drenched in moonlight' - not to mention being in the right key, the right tempo and so on. This is surely the way to remember him.

And finally for today - a note to drivers

2009-11-03T17:40:00.002Z

I applaud the fact that drivers sometimes stop for me when they don't have to, really I do. Notably when the traffic is so busy that I would never get across otherwise. Or when I am obviously hanging off the edge of the kerb in a tearing hurry.

BUT... when I am stood stock still at a junction, a safe distance from the kerb, and there are few or no cars behind yours, and you are slowing down but you'd have to anyway for the junction, and you might be saying something or waving your arms at me but you're behind a window that is catching the rain or the sun or whatever, and your intentions are therefore very very hard to read... I would really rather you just carried on driving and let me cross the road in peace once you have gone by. Sorry.

This is probably all wrong but...

2009-11-03T16:17:00.002Z

...after seeing the Anish Kapoor exhibition, I hastened next door to Laduree for some macaroons. Their shop is sculptural - the entire (tiny) place is coated in thickly spread golden splodges and squirls. Which got me thinking about the macaroons themselves.

These are not just food (or even M&S food - a category unto itself). Yes, they have some calories and they taste delicious, but they are clearly not designed for survival or nutrition. Nourishment, perhaps, taken in the widest sense and considering their sculptural qualities.

There are the colours, and the way those fade to paler or darker fillings. There are the colours that are appropriate to the flavour (rich golden mango, sadly a summer edition now passed), the colours that are at least traditional to the flavour (green pistachio), and the colours that are just a little post-modern - date and fig macaroons are an appealing purply pink which is only tangentially related to their content.

Then there is the texture. Just to look at, the tactile qualities of biting one of these are apparent. They have crispy, transparent, fragile edges. The centres are just visible, soft and shiny and waiting to be discovered.

OK, it's no good, I have to go and have tea and a macaroon...

Anish Kapoor

2009-11-03T15:52:00.002Z

Having seen only two Anish Kapoor sculptures before (that I can remember), but liked both a lot, I went to the Royal Academy exhibition. There is something very mentally spacious about going to an exhibition where there are really only seven or eight exhibits, albeit some of them groups of pieces.

Working from my least favourite upwards, and with almost no reference to the proper names of the pieces nor to any proper artistic analysis:

1. Extruded concrete - no, I am just not feeling it. Too scatological. Lacking the visual and tactile pleasures of the other work somehow. Though there are a few small pieces that have fallen off, which you might be tempted to pick up if the guards aren't watching. No-one will believe you if you try to sell them on ebay though, they just don't look impressive.

2. Fibreglass 'marble' coils with shiny red trumpet / vulva - mildly intriguing, but not very.

3. Hall of mirrors. Ok they don't call it that, but that's what it is - very shiny and nicely done. Not nearly as much fun as the stack of mirrored balls in the courtyard which have sky and buildings to play with.

4. Crimson wax - monumental block which moves along a track. carving itself out against the arches of three galleries, + the cannon which shoots cyclinders of the same wax through a doorway every 20 minutes. It is great to have something in a gallery that moves and that you can return to and see in a different way each time. And these are undeniably powerful pieces. After seeing the cannon shoot, people make pointless comments like 'Well, there you go' and 'We've seen the splodging machine now we can move on'. It is obvious that this is because at least some of them are deeply unsettled.
The wax isn't actually like anything in the body as such, but is undeniably visceral when splattered or spread. Whether by accident or design, the person 'firing' the cannon when I was there was profoundly androgynous, dressed in overalls with a poker face, very pale and thin. This added somehow to the sense of violence. Even so, I found the moving block (about the size of a double decker bus - ish) harder to take. There is something about the way it completely moulds onto the arches as it moves through them which makes it harder to breathe, and makes me want to consume things that are good for my arteries. It has all the uneasiness of seeing inside someone, or of deep sea creatures, writ large.

5. The hive - rusting (or rust-coloured, though smooth) monumental shape, open at one end to allow a glimpse of the enclosed space at the other. Everything about this was pleasing to me - scale, tactile appearance, the lines that follow its curves where it has been made (whereas many of Kapoor's sculptures have had the signs of making deliberately removed), the fact that it was made in a shipyard, the fact that it is suggestive without being red! It is everything that number 2 was not.

6. Yellow - a giant, sunny, optical illusion. I have a deep desire to climb inside it.

7. The room of pregnancy and powder paint - the paint is pleasing, the way it gives a saturated, soft colour. The pregnant wall, however, is by far the best thing in the whole show (bit of a shame this is actually the first room). You barely notice it at first, in a room full of colourful things. You look at it from the side, and it's a clearly delineated bulge, full of promise. You look from the front, about a meter away, and you just can't see anything properly at all. It is utterly mysterious. Somehow, the curve and the shadow mean that you can't focus on the texture of the white wall itself, you just get a kind of blurry glow. I could look at it all day, except it makes my eyes go funny.

Lagerfeld confidential

2009-10-04T15:51:00.002+01:00

Finally got round to watching 'Lagerfeld Confidential', a very interesting comparison to 'The September Issue' the other week. While the latter is an entertaining advertisement for Vogue, which reveals that Anna Wintour is a stellar business woman but not (whisper it) very interesting, Lagerfeld Confidential is remarkably light on Chanel, and big on Karl and his personal myth.

Having seen various rather sensationalised Karl quotes, i was ready to find said myth deeply irritating, but in fact warmed to the man who 'detests' people who can't be alone; values his photography, music and reading as much as the clothes; keeps his private life private even when sharing himself on film; hates to be dependent; and can contemplate his own death with the comfort of philosophy but not of religion. Not so fond of his penchant for off-colour jokes, but at least it makes him human. Love seeing him at work at his photography and illustration - the man is essentially an artist. And totally envious of his huge library.

Plaudits also to whoever chose the Lightning Seeds' 'Pure' as the opening song - reminded me yet again that it is possibly the most perfect pop song ever recorded - catchy, bouncy and ephemeral, with lyrics of love and rainbows but heartbreak in a minor key at its core.

Pepper & jasmine

2009-09-26T16:26:00.002+01:00

I wish I was one of those people who find a signature scent. There's something very classy about it, and with smell being such a powerful memory trigger I do love the fact that I can always associate some of my friends with a particular perfume. But the fact is that I am a perfume whore - at the present count I appear to have 2 pillow sprays, 1 eau de cologne, 3 body sprays, 2 body splashes, 5 scented oils and 11 perfumes - not to mention untold scented unguents (or 'smellies' as my unimpressed family would call them) and a tendency to borrow my husband's aftershave...

I can at least pride myself on a certain consistency of unusual taste. In the collection above, there are only a handful (courtesy of Chanel, Calvin Klein, Clarins and the Body Shop) that most people would recognise, and they'd be the first to go if I had a cull.

My favourites in type are probably the scented oils, which last better, especially the body shop's old 'woody sandalwood' (bought in Italy after they stopped selling it here) and the Egyptian lotus oil. Hakansson's curious lotion-perfume 'The Scent', though too leaky to take on holiday any more, will always remind me of my wedding and honeymoon with a cheerful, light formula of bergamot and flowers. The kings of odd perfume are of course Comme des Garcons, and I am proud to have converted at least one of my friends to their lovely and subtle rhubarb confection, though not surprised to have few supporters for the industrial no.73. I have winter scents by Lalique, Anna Sui, Kiehl's and Korres, with a preponderance of exotic woods, fig, pepper and jasmine. In summer the winner is alway's Fresh's 'Hesperides', by far the nicest citrus scent I have come across, or one of the floral oils. Maybe I won't provoke strong memory triggers in other people, but at least I have a smell to associate with every place and season.

Hello again!

2009-09-25T18:37:00.003+01:00

How nice to see you - it's been too long. How was summer for you? I know I had a summer lull at work. I know this by the fact that it is now over. But I can't say I noticed it at the time. They did invite me to another, less surreal dinner the other day though. Hoss Intropia may have the oddest name of any shop but they sure can shape a wonderful little, black, velvet, backless, waist-whittling, leg-lengthening dress. Sadly, these things can have a sting in the tail - literally, as they appear to have sewn a small drawing pin into the hem. Gonna have to work on that one...

I was very amused the other day when I had a meeting with someone in the margins of a training course, where they had been learning about cats and dogs.
The dog says:
'You feed me, you give me somewhere to sleep and lots of love and attention - you must be a god!'
The cat says:
'You feed me, you give me somewhere to sleep and lots of love and attention - I must be a god.'
For a seminar on personal impact, the message is an interesting one. I think the point was to do with how you adapt your style to 'cat' or 'dog' people, but what happens when two cats meet? Just as in nature, it could go either way...

The awards will a-begin in a-FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE a-minutes!

2009-07-20T20:25:00.002+01:00

So last week saw my first ever black tie work-related event as our contractors sponsored a table at the National Business Awards south east regional final. It was at the Park Lane Hilton, with that Katy Dearham off the telly and the voiceover man from the weakest link... the mind boggles as to what they do for the national ceremony.

There is something very surreal about voiceovers with dinner. Likewise about being the only female on a table of eight random men, all representing different enterprises including software, police data and, err, turning cremated remains into diamonds...(they won a prize - a reasonably elegant trophy with small circles within a hoop).

That said there were some very charming and interesting people, widely worked and travelled. We had an interesting debate about the profit motive, which my neighbour viewed as about success not money - to me that's somewhat missing the point that it defines success as money, but we agreed to differ. On the bright side, my admission of my connections with tax did not result in a lynching, and I was declared to have the best hair of the evening, at least for a tax person - always a good result when not actually entered for any awards. My colleague actually had to present a prize, an ordeal full of bright lights, opening of envelopes and giant close ups of his face on a big screen, not to mention photo opportunities. I was happy to applaud politely, and toast the winners with the rather good free wine. Enterprise is a wonderful thing.

Egypt overwhelms

2009-07-01T21:14:00.003+01:00

So, having said I had loads to talk about after our Egyptian holiday I then got writer's block - the truth is I just can't begin to capture it. There was so much there that it's fused into a single big blob in my head. I've said to a few people since we got back that I had no idea how many monuments there were, or the scale of them. The only comparison I've been able to think of is if Stonehenge appeared every few miles along the Thames... and was covered in astonishing carvings. Not to mention the 63 tombs or rooms so far in the Valley of the Kings and all the more 'minor' stuff that they don't bother dragging the tourists to or that's drowned under lake Nasser.

In a way it was wonderful to get so close to the monuments, and I can see what a huge task it would be to protect them all fully, but it was also alarming to see the darkening on places where tourists and guides touch the carving to point something out. The most depressing thing I saw was a blob of gum on one carved block at Philae temple - unbelievable philistinism. At least some of the tomb paintings are behind sheets of perspex.
It was also troubling that, although I am sure archaologists and egyptologists the world over are working on cataloging and interpreting the miles and miles of carvings and paintings on the temples and tombs there was very little evidence of any such systematic process. Aside from some book shops in Cairo, it's hard to get any record besides some very shoddy tourist guides and postcards, although doubtless amazon could oblige.

The thought that the bright colours still visible in many tombs would also have covered the temples is truly staggering - I can't think of a building that would create such an impact, or at least not in the same way.

Fun fact of the day - there were seven cleopatras. The one we all know about was the last.

And another thing that hasn't changed....

2009-06-07T12:30:00.004+01:00

... is the crocodiles! Yes that is my hand on the right, holding today's version of the ancient carving on the left. It had rather alarming teeth but was pleasantly cool to the touch on a hot morning. We're told the larger version nowadays are all up behind the High Dam in Lake Nasser...

There, doesn't that make it all better?

2009-06-07T12:15:00.004+01:00

Ok so this is just a ludicrously cute kitten. But one of the reasons I could spend so long watching Egyptian cats, besides the cuteness, is the way they clearly haven't changed since pharaohnic times. They are all skinny - not unhealthy, just right for the heat and for an un-pampered, un-western existence. Their small bodies, big ears and lined eyes are an exact match for the statuette of Bast in the British Museum, or in the Gayer-Anderson House in Cairo. They stalk the same birds close to the river.

It's sometimes difficult to get a real sense of history in the temples and tombs when they are full of people, but the cats have it. Watching the banks of the Nile as we cruised was a similar feeling. Palm trees, small farms, mud brick houses, cows and water buffalo, all more or less as they would have been at least hundreds if not thousands of years previously. The weather seems to add to the continuity in very practical ways - it helps to preserve both the monuments and a certain way of life, at least outside the cities.

So May was silence month - again...

2009-06-06T14:09:00.004+01:00

Sorry about that. But I have now been to Egypt and am therefore flooded with stuff to talk about. I could mention the Cairo traffic, the numerous amazing monuments we saw, the heat, the various maladies, the sheer filmic glory of the Nile cruise... but first I should discuss the ancient egyptian art of towel origami.

You heard me. It's a nice touch by the cleaners on board the MS Stephanie (and, for all I know, every other boat out there). You return to find your beds made and your quarters adorned with a cunningly constructed towelling sculpture, occasionally finished with your sunhat or some other helpful item. I was very impressed. I applauded the swan, the lotus, the monkey-bat (we have a domestic disagreement about this one - it swung from the ceiling and had bat ears but it wasn't upside down), the rabbit-dog and the beautiful peacock (as above - crest artfully fashioned from toilet paper).

I am surely not the only person in the world, though, who found the towel 'mummy' more than a little disturbing:

He was right inside the door, very much life size, but worst of all he just looked so sad!

Next - adorable Egyptian kittens to heal the trauma...

Writer's dilemma

2009-04-25T17:34:00.002+01:00

So having 'finished' my novel while on sabbatical last year, I am now wrestling with the conundrum of how to know when it is really finished, to the extent that I will be happy to send it out and be judged by it.

One criterion was length - I had in my mind a minimum word count for credibility, below which it was feeling more like a novella, but I have now passed that magic figure.

I don't want to be one of the people who does 17 versions of their novel over almost as many years - and in fact it's rarely in my nature to re-write anything too much, the patience wears off. But I take it as a good sign that if anything my interest in 'Mother of the World' is increasing - I still keep having good ideas to flesh out the characters, having been told be several people that I may be 'under-writing', and they are definitely real people now who haunt my head whenever they get the chance.

I'm also having fun reading over each of the main characters' stories separately to check for internal consistency. And then of course there's the fact that I'm actually going to Cairo in May, having written about it from second hand accounts, so that's bound to give me ideas.

Guess it might be a month or two yet...

Mayor alert

2009-04-25T17:31:00.001+01:00

Saw Boris Johnson on the escalators at London Bridge this week, with just one companion. This almost makes me believe he could be a fit mayor of London after all - I do love a politician who is not afraid of public transport, not to mention the public. I'd still bring back Ken though...

Me-tal-li-CA!

2009-04-03T11:53:00.002+01:00

So, it turns out that Metallica really do exist! They are not just a figment of my fevered imagination - how exciting. They delivered a storming performance as expected, though seeing them at the O2 is just a little bit like watching on a really really really big TV, or perhaps inside a space ship that could take off and you would never know. Their clothes are an entertaining span of several rock decades (70s cut off shirt and drainpipes; 80s-90s basic blacks; 2000s baggy shorts and socks...). Sad but True was the highlight for me - even made it worth further transport battles with the absent Jubilee line. Replacement bendy bus to Stratford after midnight, anyone?

Lost in space

2009-04-03T11:48:00.003+01:00

Oops, so March came and went then... In my defence, I have been stuck either at work on on public transport. RANT ALERT...Southern Railways were not my most trusted people anyway, but what really beggars belief is that last Monday they left me anD a train full of commuters in total absence of information for over an hour and a half after the train lost power. Eventually, in desperation, people took matters into their own hands and started climbing off and walking along the track, thus precipitating a slow official progress off the front of the train. When asked why they had said nothing, officials said that 'the communications were down' - first of all this certainly wasn't true in the first half hour, when we were told there was a power cut. Secondly - it's a train full of people. They have voices. If you can't walk down (and frankly they could have though it was a little crowded), ask people to pass a message on! So far as I know, no-one was hurt, but no thanks to Southern. Oh and the best part is that the front of the train was a foot into Balham station the whole damn time...

Alphabet Month - Zat's all, folks

2009-02-28T07:51:00.001Z

"Z"zzz is to sleep, perchance to dream...

Or for those who think I am copping out of the tricky letter,
Z is for zoology,
the study of the human, being.

Alphabet Month - Y

2009-02-27T09:17:00.001Z

"Y"? Why not?

Alphabet Month - X

2009-02-26T07:49:00.004Z

"X" is for things that we have lost.

In other ex's:
'And if the man you've grown to be's more Morrison than Morrissey
I'll tell you straight as we undress that things got better since you left
and though I've banned your name since then
I'll call it with my dying breath' - Dubstar

Alphabet Month - V & W

2009-02-25T07:58:00.002Z

"V" is for ventriloquism - this V is brought to you by Tuesday 24th.

V is also for vegan - unexpected delights of vegan food are what kept me from the computer yesterday at Saf restaurant near old street. It's mostly raw food but they do such intriguing things with it you would never know. The chive caviar was a highlight as were the puddings but the real winner is the cocktail list - mmmmmm, jasmine pearl martini...
My other favourite raw and vegan discovery is Conscious Chocolate - gorgeous dark, truffly chocolate bars which are practically a health food!

"W" is for words, what else?

Alphabet Month - U

2009-02-23T18:14:00.002Z

"U" are everything to me.

Songs about U:

'and if you don't love me now, you will never love me again, I can still hear you saying you will never break the chain' - fleetwood mac

'you were there dressed in green, saying something obscene. But that's why I came here in the first place. Oh well that and the tea.' - pulp

'Are you living for love? I've been under the gun, I'm lost and I've won.' - sisters of mercy

Alphabet Month - Tea

2009-02-22T13:45:00.000Z

"T" is a suitable break in the afternoon of the alphabet.

Alphabet Month - R&S

2009-02-21T18:35:00.002Z

"R" is for arrrrrrgh, I missed a day. Not quite sure how that happened, sorry. Although it was one of those days when I overslept and my head melted - I narrowly avoided pouring juice on my cereal and wore my watch upside down for about four hours before noticing.
To be honest, I wasn't certain of my plans for R - it might have been rampant, rampaging, rambunctious and rumbustious, or it might have been retiring. Either way, it would have been richly relevant. Or I might have succumbed to temptation and just written 'ooh R'...

By contrast, "S" is simple - it stands for serendipity, my favourite thing.

Alphabet Month - Q

2009-02-19T21:38:00.002Z

"Q" is for questions, essential to disrupting the Plan.

Alphabet Month - P

2009-02-18T08:21:00.001Z

"P" is for the Plan, which is necessary but not sufficient.

Alphabet Month - O

2009-02-17T07:44:00.002Z

"O"

Step 1 - select:
a) ...say can you see
b)...baby, baby, how was I supposed to know
c) ...lift us up where we belong
d) ...joy

Step 2 - select:
a) !
b) ?
c) ...
d) .

Alphabet Month - N

2009-02-16T19:03:00.003Z

.
.
.
.
.
.
("N" is for nothing. Nothing matters.)

Alphabet Month - M

2009-02-15T15:11:00.003Z

"M" is for the middle of Alphabet Month, which is more or less upon us.

M is also for music, what else.
It's time to play the music, it's time to light the lights,
Play that funky music, the music of the night
Music is my hot hot sex
Music to watch girls by
Thank you for the music
Without the music we would die
I'm lost in music
The music sounds better with you
Antmusic, exit music, guess that's why they call it the blues
'There may be trouble ahead
But while there's moonlight and music
And love and romance
Let's face the music and dance.'

In other music:
'Before you get sold, you get bought for a song' - Fountains of Wayne

Alphabet Month - Valentine Special

2009-02-14T10:07:00.000Z

Are you in Love,
Lust,
or just
in "L"?

Alphabet Month - K

2009-02-13T17:40:00.004Z

"K" keeps me guessing, it's beyond my ken.
Is it a kamikaze licence to kill?
A kaleidoscopic kiln of karma?
A knees-up knave
or a knight in shining armour?
Kiss me, K!
K is the key,
the Kyrie Eleison,
the kernel of knowledge.
K is knotty, knockabout, knuckleheaded, knurled, a knowall thrown out of college.
K is not quite Kosher.
K is not OK.
Oh, K.

Alphabet Month - J

2009-02-12T19:08:00.002Z

"J"ay is to sparrow
As tank is to arrow.

J is for jaaaaaaam hot!

J is also for Jasper Maskelyne, magician, who inadvertantly and posthumously inspired my first novel.

Alphabet Month - I

2009-02-11T07:49:00.001Z

"I" will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,
from whence cometh my strength.

(disclaimer: this is not a religious message. I just like hills.)

Alphabet Month - H

2009-02-10T08:48:00.000Z

"H" is to have and to hold.

Alphabet Month - G

2009-02-09T07:41:00.001Z

"G" is for the Great North Wood,
which is still here if you look hard enough.

Alphabet Month - F

2009-02-08T10:30:00.000Z

"F" is for the Facts,
which sometimes aren't.

Alphabet Month - E

2009-02-07T09:13:00.000Z

"E"rrrrr......

(to err is human)

Alphabet Month - D

2009-02-06T08:43:00.000Z

"D" is for the diverse delirium of Doubt, from doubt-full (doomed to dyspeptic dithering) to doubt-less (distinctly damnably dictatorial).

Alphabet Month - C

2009-02-05T07:33:00.000Z

"C" what I did with B, there? I'll stop it. Promise. For now.

C is for the not-quite-circular cycles of chance and change
Also for chocolate, which is much more important.

Come up and C me sometime (that wasn't me - it's a quote...)

Alphabet Month - B

2009-02-04T07:56:00.000Z

"B" gentle, reader, it's my first time.

In other B's:

'He believes in beauty, he's Venus as a boy' Bjork

'If the apocalypse comes - beep me' Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Alphabet Month

2009-02-03T18:10:00.000Z

26 days left of February? Must be Alphabet Month. Please do join in with your own suggestions in the comments. I'll try to do this every day unless I really can't get to the internet, in which case there may be the odd two-letter day:

"A" is for anthropology,
The study of the human, being.

Snow snow snow snow snow

2009-02-02T15:05:00.000Z

So, this work thing really takes it out of a girl. But thanks to the snow, I have a longer weekend in which to reflect on the positive aspects of my career. There is undeniably a satisfying sense of competence about work which can be all too elusive in the writing. I don't particularly enjoy being sent to Glasgow at short notice, or having to stay late to finish things, but it does make one feel wanted. My colleagues are (for the most part) as lovely as I remember. Also, lets be honest, it is very nice to see my bank balance halt its relentless downward slide. I have celebrated solvency with a self-gift of a beautiful silver pen - by way of reminder not to stop writing. So far, so good - still making reasonable progress on the corrections to novel no.1 and finished another short story the other day, although I have decided to let various competition deadlines slide without my input.

Snow = being at home, ought to = productivity, but snow engenders that 'being off school' feeling which prevents any substantial activity. So I went to the park and took pictures of the happy sledging people, and felt good about it.

Last night of freedom

2009-01-04T17:19:00.000Z

Tomorrow I start work again. That's OK. It will be pleasant to have an income, and the writing is now at a stage when I can realistically hope to push it forwards in my spare time. As of today, the opening chapters of novel number one are at (joint) no. 20 on the youwriteon charts - a satisfying position for a first attack. I just wish the whole sabbatical wasn't already starting to feel rather distant, like some myth i once heard...

Byzantine audio blight (oh and Christmas and all that)

2009-01-04T17:04:00.000Z

I still love Christmas. It really helps to have a small family who are sane about the important things (albeit quietly barking about the other stuff). New Year at the Mexican Ovaltine Factory, dancing amid the plastic cacti, was also a blast (for the confused - it was just a friend's flat. In an old factory. With a mexican theme - ish).

But I failed to make any resolution not to rant, so here goes. Audio guides for exhibitions - not exactly a major evil of our time. However...

I would be the first to agree that audio guides have their place. Alcatraz, for example, has a really great one, and most importantly the space for visitors to enjoy it. The Byzantium exhibition at the Royal Academy, though, has a number of quite small items in a confined area. I have no way of telling whether the audio guide was good - I imagine so - but it cursed the exhibition for anyone who chose not to use it. First, of course, it ensured dense crowds around the choice items as they clustered, determined to hear everything while still in close proximity. Secondly, there is a pernicious tendency to remove all the informative and enjoyable information from the labelling in favour - I presume - of the audio. When I see the extraordinary detail of a micro-mosaic, to take one instance, I long to know how it was made, by whom, over how long a time. Ideally, I want nuggets of anecdote to add to the factual info. What I get is a name - micro-mosaic of the virgin (or similar) - and a date. And the date is often a bit suspect. Come to that, the name can be tricky too - as per the painting of 'Jesus' which looks distinctly female. I urge the curators of exhibitions to consider their readers as well as their listeners - and to provide a bit more space if they are going to encourage hordes of people to enjoy a single earing or coin - maybe even a blown-up image of the thing above it. I surely can't be the only person wondering if Saint Euphemia in the illustrated manuscript is really topless, and if so, why?

The eagle-eyed will notice I'm in catch-up mode...

2009-01-04T16:53:00.000Z

San Francisco is lovely. Even the Holiday Inn is pretty damn nice. The sealions honking at pier 39 are lovely. The fine and plentiful seafood is lovely. The cocktails are lovely. The views from the municipal pier and the Coit Tower are lovely. The public transport is charmingly various but seems to work. The incessant Obama posters let you know you are in friendly territory. You get the idea.

We went to Alcatraz, where the ranger gave an excellent talk about the military history and how it went from a base to a military prison (built by the prisoners) to a federal penitentiary (bought for $1 and an agreement to continue doing the army's laundry). The SF Museum of Modern Art and the De Young were both sensational - like the best museums in London only a more manageable size. Travellers wrestling with US portion sizes should also note that the museum cafes serve great salads and healthier-than-usual sandwiches. I would happily return to San Fran tomorrow.

So my first trip to the USA was a great success (despite my best attempts to sabotage it before it started by turning off the alarm in my sleep owing to a heavy cold... yes, we still made the flight). It made me realise very concretely what I have formerly known academically but failed to practice - you can't generalise about America or Americans. I can't imagine two more different places that Vegas and San Fran. The only thing they had in common - and I say this in all sincerity - is really excellent lemonade. None of the fizzy crap that passes for lemonade over here. And on that note I must continue my catch-up...

Sponging USA

2009-01-04T16:36:00.000Z

There are several ways in which Vegas makes me think of sponge.

1. It is the most dehydrating place I have ever visited. After a 10 hour flight, you arrive shrivelled to your air conditioned yet smoky hotel. Whence you depart only for short walks in the desert air or in air conditioned buses. It sucks all the moisture from you. The lovely lovely waitress at the Stratosphere tower said as much, noting that we English would soon need to return to our humid environments. This makes San Francisco, home of London-esque greenery and freezing fog, the ideal place to move on to for comprehensive rehydration.

2. On holiday, I am generally in 'sponge' mode - absorbing all the new sights, sounds and so on. Even for a Londoner, though, Vegas is over-stimulating. The lights! The beeping of the slots! The salespeople! The multiplicity of alarming statistics that prove how Vegas defies nature! The flicking of the callgirl cards in the street! The number of shops! The size of the food!

3. Jet lag makes my brain spongy. Vegas doesn't help with that. It is full of things that make you go 'aaaaargh' and clutch your skull in sheer bafflement.

All of that said, I am delighted to have seen it once. Our friends' wedding was lovely - Vegas appropriate but not tacky. We saw two incredible Cirque du Soleil shows and a great gig by Franz Ferdinand (the less said about Bloc Party who were actually heading the bill the better - we left). We enjoyed siberian nachos at Red Square for my birthday. We gawped at the hoover dam and squeaked in adoration at the antelope ground squirrels who ate from our hands nearby. We shopped, we took endless pictures to prove how mad it all is, I developed a mild devotion to Wallgreen's pharmacy for their range of lotions and potions, and we spent some time trying to calculate how rich we would have to be to stay at the Bellagio and watch their exquisite fountains all evening.

So I had a great time in Vegas, but it's all just so very very wrong. As typified by the timeshare salesman who pointed out that the next big project is a water park and ski slope. In the desert! Right before he drew our attention to the singing rocks on the communal patio...

Helen goes global (ish)

2008-12-05T17:02:00.000Z

You can now read the opening chapters of my novel 'Mother of the World' at YouWriteOn - just search for hmsankh (my username) to find them. You can read without registering - the system is that I earn reviews by reviewing the work of others but anyone can read. Do let me know what you think!

Quod erat demonstrandum...

2008-12-03T15:25:00.000Z

Ah, Eddie Izzard. Or possibly: mmmmmm, Eddie Izzard. How I love that man. I have been following his progress from a distance for over ten years now, as he leaves the blue planet gasping and squirrel-infested in his wake. I have seen him acting live, in the excellent and harrowing 'Lenny', and now at last I have seen the live stand-up of his 'stripped' tour.

There are so many things that I love about him. There's the eyeliner, of course, but more importantly the fact that he is clearly a right-thinking human being, who cares about life, the universe and everything. The broad subject-matter for this tour is the entire history of the planet Earth, human civilisation, religion and the fact that in the probably absence of God we still ought all to be nice to one another. That's the underlying goodness. On top of that lies the howlingly hilarious and surreal Eddie-world. I always know something or someone is special when they seep right into my subconscious and alter my vocabulary. Eddie is right up there alongside Shakespeare and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, melting my cerebral cortex into new and exciting shapes.

It's hard to explain what he talked about without the voice and the gestures, but suffice to say that I now have a clear mental image and matching sound effects for jazz chickens, oppressed squirrels, kenny rogers (two people), foxes in foxgloves, ants in elephants' clothing and the ventriloquist's Yorick.

I will join the Eddie revolution and 'set fire to things' if Maggie Thatcher gets a state funeral. I understand that there is no deity, only Captain Random, and that you can't have a plague of frogs (it's just more frogs than usual). I know the difference between the familiar 'you' (Aren't you my father?) and the unfamiliar 'you' (Who the fuck are you?). I sense that badgers can be choosers, and that what hashassins with vacuum cleaners lack in guns they make up for in surprise. My mouth is filled with the recollected taste of cakemix and zoom lollies (the closest the UK has got to space).

To conclude, as God might have said if he existed: 'Here it is. It's blue, don't fuck it up.'

Das ist korrectamundo!

Westfield, ho!

2008-11-28T09:29:00.000Z

I seem to have neglected to mention my visit to the opening day at Westfield Mall. I like the architecture (that British Museum - lite roof in particular), I like the fact that they don't have many tacky chain eateries (but do have square pie, sushi, lebanese food etc), but otherwise I'm underwhelmed. The main interior food hall was grossly overcrowded - at least half hour queue for everything - so don't expect to eat there any time around Christmas or sales. The shops are pretty much Oxford Street the second, although I haven't come across the oddly-named 'Pull & Bear' before who have a fine range of cheap and interesting T-shirts, albeit aimed at 16-year-olds.

There were a few first-day incentives around, though nothing spectacular (warm champagne, anyone?). But I was very pleased with the free turtle I got when I bought a bag from Carpisa. It's furry - which of course is a little bit wrong for a turtle, but very cute - and most importantly it's satisfyingly odd.

Using my hands

2008-11-17T12:28:00.001Z

And speaking of craft, yesterday was day two of the really wonderful and rewarding City Lit course 'Jewellery: Making a Silver Ring'. I have, in fact, made a silver ring! The course runs over two sundays and is designed to be the perfect grounding in working with metal. In order to make a ring you have to learn to cut metal, anneal it (the fiery bit), clean it (the acid 'pickle' bit), shape it, saw it, solder it, make it round, decorate and polish it. Ray Duncan was a very approachable, experienced and patient tutor, who plunged us straight into the fun stuff with minimal chatter as we cut slices of copper for our test version.

I was forcibly reminded of GCSE art, in which I worked harder than in any other subject but was never going to get more than a 'B'. I am sadly lacking in manual dexterity and will not be becoming a master jeweller any time this millenium. But I had a wonderful time using my hands and learning new skills, and I have produced a ring that is round, shiny and wearable. The join is almost invisible, a victory for much filing! The decoration is not very sophisticated - another time I would try to do more with texture using the motorised tools or a contrast of matt and shiny finishes - but it doesn't look grossly amateur either, at least not to a layperson. Profoundly satisfying and a bargain at less than £100 for the course and all equipment and materials (if you wanted a wider ring or to do more you would need to buy your own).

I'll add a photo when my computer stops falling over every time I open the photo file...

Art, craft and higher mathematics

2008-11-17T12:08:00.000Z

Went to an interesting Royal Society "conversation" last week between Mark Haddon, writer of 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time', and mathematician Marcus de Sautoy. The talk was rather tantalising as they brushed the edges of so many fascinating subjects, but there were some lovely and thought-provoking moments, in particular:

- Eureka moments. Haddon said that eureka moments for writers might just be getting a sentence right, nothing more dramatic, but that what he hears at those times is the sound of a very expensive car door closing.

- Explanations. Sautoy's work is all about trying to explain something so that everyone understands the same points. Haddon loves to include explanation, hence his enjoyment in writing 'Curious incidenct', but knows that most art is designed to be subject to multiple interpretations and should leave a lot of space for the reader. He illustrated this very well by reading a sentence or two of a scene by the sea then asking for shows of hands for pebbles v. sand on the beach, boats or none on the sea etc.

- Art and science. They really probably should have stuck to art and mathematics, as there is far too much to say on this topic for one little talk, but Haddon did point out that people may be too quick to look for the similarities - the differences may be more interesting (also, there is no reason why we should all appreciate the same things).

I asked how they saw craft, where art meets physical and technical parameters (such as the mathematics in knitting).

Haddon felt that craft was different in purpose and method to 'art' because of these limitations and because the main aim is to make something for a fixed purpose - I didn't have a chance to point out that most good craft involves everything that I think gives value to art, namely (and not exhaustively):
- creativity
- skill
- interpretation of a tradition
- possible symbolism
- personality
etc etc.
And when it produces something wearable or useful as well, that is surely a bonus...

Fame at last (ahem...)

2008-11-17T12:02:00.000Z

Had an email recently reminding me that the winners of the PCS & Words Magazine short story competition (open to members of any trades union) had been announced. I hadn't heard anything so knew I hadn't won, but was very pleased to see my name in the "highly commended" category! They also list those who reach the second and third readings so you appear at the top of a pleasing pyramid. The story is a little too long to post here - it's called 'Moonlight over Mount Pleasant' and involves a young boy with learning difficulties going missing at the British Postal Museum and Archive, with some possible comparisons between the sorting office, the silent prison that once stood on the Mount Pleasant site and a mind that is full of ideas but has trouble expressing itself. Very nice to have a little recognition to tell people about before I go back to work in January.

Redemption

2008-10-23T13:44:00.000+01:00

Two really astonishing stories I have come across in the last fortnight. First, Joe Hill's novel 'Heart-Shaped Box'. Neil Gaiman's blog recommended this ages ago and I finally picked it up. This is in some respects a truly nasty story - I was slightly surprised - but genuinely redemptive and one of those books that you just feel is 'true'. It's been badged as horror - the vengeful ghost is central and really terrifying - but I wouldn't even call it fantasy, just a novel of real life with a supernatural catalyst. I've never read anything more revealing about the effects of abuse and the way the abused can become the abusers. Oh and the vision of the ageing rock star as the central character also feels very convincing.

Just as good and probably somewhat easier going for the faint of stomach is beautiful film 'I've loved you so long' (french with subtitles). This has jumped straight into my top 10 films of all time. Even those who prefer more plot must surely be gripped by the underlying tension and mystery of the scenario where Juliette (Kristin Scott Thomas) comes to live with her sister Lea after 15 years in prison.

We find out relatively rapidly that Juliette murdered her own 6 year old son. Each brief event in this film conveys a world of detail and emotion about the relationship between the sisters and about Juliette's adaptation to a new world, her sisters' loved ones, her social worker, her employers and so on. I know at least two people who have seen this and shown amazement that the characters can act with their eyebrows - not in a comic way though! Every character, however small their part, is a fully fledged person with all the contraditions that tends to entail - the parole officer with his dreams of great rivers is particularly poignant, as is Juliette's evolving bond with her sisters' adopted children.

There is also plenty of observational humour - the lothario of the local swimming pool, Juliette's expression as she confesses to her sister that she has slept with a man from a bar and even the moment of tragi-comic tension as a family friend puts Juliette on the spot at a dinner party about why they have never met her before.

Long before we comprehend the details of Juliette's crime, we have understood this 'criminal' as a human being. Kristin Scott Thomas' performance is a highlight in a pretty phenomenal career. Although Juliette's make-up and wardrobe are austere - we are allowed to see her tired eyes and lines - she is nevertheless unbelievably stylish (SO not what this is about, but I defy you to come out not craving grey cashmere and a suede coat). But the true heroine is sister Lea (Elsa Zylberstein), who displays deep humanity as she takes her older sister in, embraces and trusts her without prejudice, supports her as she builds up a new life and defends her against all comers. It is Lea that I cried with at the emotional moments, and felt for as she came up time and again against Juliette's walls of independence and pain. The ending redeems not only Juliette, but most importantly Lea's faith. We are given a sympathetic reason for Juliette's crime, but she has still committed a crime of sorts against her family by never explaining herself and it is Lea who gives them both a second chance. Really beautiful - I can't recommend it highly enough.

...and a little inanity

2008-10-18T17:26:00.000+01:00

Am I the only one who gets tired of magazine's 'must have' beauty lists which appear to be sponsored by L'oreal and almost never include anything a bit less chemical? Here, then, is the beginning of my own, thoroughly biased but rather more broadly-based list, which I can guarantee is based on extensive and thorough experimentation!

1. To begin at the feet - the only foot cream that I am passionate about is L'Occitane's shea butter foot cream. It smells refreshingly of lavender (real lavender, not synthesised lavender). It's rich and creamy but if you massage in a pea-size blob to each foot you will be able to walk on carpets again by the time you have moisturised the rest of your body - which leads me to...

2. Body lotion - best cheap and plentiful lotion for dry skin like mine is St Ives Collagen Ellastin. Rich but not sticky and an unobtrusive smell, large bottles at very reasonable prices. Weleda mallow body lotion is a runnier but even more virtuous alternative.

3. Shower gel - it is a mystery to me why anyone still buys generic shower gels unless they really really love them. A trip to Whole Foods Market or a local healthfood shop will reveal a cornucopia of really lovely organic shower gels in every price range. I am currently revelling in Figs & Rouge's Juniper gel (the only flaw is the screw cap but I switched it for a flip-top from an old shampoo bottle). Next on my list is Giovanni's sweetly named and sweet-smelling 'cucumber song'. Ren, Korres and others are also now widely available in department stores.

4. Facial wash - it is no good asking me about cream cleansers, nor about toner, I am a firm believer in cleanser that washes off, toning as it goes. Elemis Tri-enzyme facial wash is pricey but does a good job of encouraging dead skin to depart without giving that nasty tight feeling. I only like to use it once a day so my morning wake-up wash is JASON's Super-C cleansing wash, lovely long-lasting organic orange burst of freshness. Simple's cleansing washes are also a good basic.

5. Night cream - cream, schmeam. What you want is oil. I say this with zealous conviction after my own conversion. Oil is great because skin can recognise it. You need very little so it lasts ages. I will say this only once - it does not make skin oily. It does make it soft and lovely and prevent wrinkles. And because of the texture you do spend a minute or two massaging it in which is also really good for your face. My failsafe is Rosa Mosqueta oil - the only downside is that is doesn't smell as good as the name sounds. To be honest I get it from the healthfood shop and have no idea what its credentials are, but you could also try Es'pa or Darphin for more mainstream alternatives.

6. Eye cream - you know you should. I have been told (by a therapist at Champneys) that I have a very good eye area for a 30-something. I've tried dozens of creams but my favourite is Weleda's rose eye cream. It's extremely simple and pure, just what I feel happy having close to my eye. Half a pea of cream rubbed in gentle circles round the bone of the socket and tapped in under the eye morning and night is a good feeling. And the tiny tube in pretty pink is great for taking on holiday etc.

More ranting on this subject later...

A victory for sanity...

2008-10-18T17:23:00.000+01:00

Thank goodness the 42 days proposal has been defeated - for details including a great campaign by writers including Ian Rankin see Liberty - I can't really put any of it better.

Extra time - addendum

2008-10-12T14:20:00.000+01:00

Something else I have learned about writing - to read aloud is critical. There is nothing that will expose flaws faster. Reading aloud to yourself is ok, to others is better, and having someone else read your work aloud to you gives yet another dimension of understanding.

Autumnal

2008-10-12T13:57:00.000+01:00

Autumnal is a lovely word, I think. This year, what with the (relatively) free time, I thought it would be nice to experiment with a new hair colour for Autumn. Nothing too dark - having gone black for many years I know how bad it is with my pale roots (nobody likes to look at if they are balding) and my 30-something skin tone. And nothing too red - I have enough of that in my cheeks. I was thinking of a nice mellow brunette - ok, I admit it, I was thinking about Carrie's tranformation in the Sex & the City movie.

Lack of funds was a problem, but a kind friend pointed me in the direction of the Vidal Sassoon Academy in Davies Mews, where cut and colour can be obtained cheap or sometimes free provided you have several hours to spend.

Here are the things I knew before I went to the academy:

- They call their customers 'models'. This is because 'guinea pigs' just doesn't have the same ring to it.
- It takes ages - they say around 3 hours for a cut. I was booked for a full day for cut and colour, though in the event it was faster.
- The time taken is partly because supervisors must be consulted at every stage. This is a Good Thing.
- They will press you to have something new and exciting done to your hair. New and exciting for them, that is. Be firm. To be honest, if you just want a modest trim you may be better off elsewhere.

Here are the things I didn't know:

- If you are having a cut and colour (and, I suspect, if you are fairly young or your hair looks a bit tricky e.g. curly, very thick, very trendy) you can be sent down two streets to the Advanced Academy. This is good because they will do the cut and colour by c.1.30 pm rather than taking all day. It's not so good because those advanced students really, really, really want to put into practice their advanced skills. The modest trim is not really an option.
- The Advanced Academy is more spacious. When you arrive, you may think it looks a lot like a traditional salon. Then it fills up with people and is just as manic as the usual academy.
- At the Advanced Academy, you are likely to be looked after by people who are already fully fledged hairdressers. However, my lady was Spanish. Which is fine, but it is disconcerting and even slower than usual when all communication between the person actually dealing with your hair and the supervisor is via an interpreter. Still, it's nice to know the place has an international reputation.
- There was, on my side of the room at least, one supervisor for colour and another for cut. They don't appear to get on too well... this too is disconcerting.
- When the supervisor for colour says he is going to dye half of your hair one shade, and the other side another, do not be alarmed. The effect is more subtle than the words suggest and blends in very nicely thank you. You will not end up looking like some kind of cartoon villain.
- When the pre-colour used to even up your previous dying experiments comes out a crazy neon orange a la Dame Vivienne Westwood, do not be alarmed. This stage will pass.
- On the other hand, when the don of colour shrugs off your request for a modest brunette by saying it will turn your hair green, and suggests that a zig zag of copper will look very nice, do assume that he is completely ignoring your request not to go red. Be aware that this innocent-sounding suggestion will result in your hair emerging a deep auburn.

So I have red hair. The cut is shorter than I am used to, but quite pleasing and very manageable with the aid of a handful of mousse. Suddenly lilac make-up and jewel-colour clothes look great. It's not quite what I went in for, and it's going to be horrifically high maintenance or hard to phase out again, but it is very autumnal.

Extra time

2008-10-01T17:04:00.000+01:00

So, as of today I have officially finished my original 6-month sabbatical (April to September) and am into the 3 months extra time I have managed to scrounge from my employers and my savings account...and what have I learned?

1.This is the life. I like my career - it's really pretty great the majority of the time - but if I could afford not to go back I have to say I wouldn't hesitate. Am I bored, writing alone in the kitchen? Not likely. I am quite good at keeping my own company, but also I have way more energy to go out and see people than when I'm at work. I am also reveling - within reason - in domesticity. Cooking is so much more fun when you aren't already knackered and starving. The single biggest hint that this is the life is how well I am - not a days illness in the six months I've been off. To put that in perspective, I usually catch every bug going, at least four a year. I think my new-found health is partly due to less rush-hour exposure, but primarily to less stress.

2. Notwithstanding point 1 - writing a novel is bloody difficult. Wonderful, exciting and a great learning experience, but not to be undertaken lightly. Especially if you and everyone else has high expectations of the outcome. Needless to say, the difficultly is not unexpected, but it can be very tortuous for a well-read person to experience the manifold shortcomings of their first novel-writing attempt.

3. The nice effect of point 2 is that I am a more attentive and appreciative reader. All the lovely stuff that seems so smooth and easy in a good novel - sub-plots, character development, tension, 'eureka' moments and so on - are not easy at all to write. I now notice what authors are doing a bit more than I used to, and understand how cleverly they are doing it.

4. Writer's groups - I am now in two - are a Good Thing. They give me perspective, but most of all they are fun gatherings of like-minded people, and it's constantly exciting to see other people's work in progress. There may also be food involved, never a problem for me.

5. I am capable of writing a great many words in a day - somewhere between 1,000 and 4,000. Pac Man is the enemy of this productivity, but that won't be a problem any more when I finish the final set of levels on my downloaded game... Can't be long now...

6. If in doubt, go out. To a course, or an exhibition, or a cafe, or a book group, or a writer's group, or dinner, or even the gym. It's all inspiring stuff. I have become the weirdo with the notebook who is secretly recording your conversations, appearance, mannerisms... you have been warned.

Pedal your own canoe

2008-09-15T15:56:00.000+01:00

A pedalo has a turning circle to rival the London taxi... if the taxi were driving in custard, on rails,with a giraffe attached to the back... While not a useful mode of tranport, though, the pedalo is at least a very superior way to get some exercise on a sunny afternoon.
A shame that the boating area in Battersea Park is not large - in your allotted half hour you can probably fit in around five circuits, which is frankly plenty. But the pedalo also provides the opportunity for schadenfreude over the poor souls who thought they could manage a rowing boat. There is one particular narrow area where most come to grief, while pedalos queue up behind them or demonstrate their superior ability to stop, go backwards and so on. The rowboats have a staggering turning circle in the right hands - they go round, and round, and round, and round, and round...

I rather wish there was mystery shopping for pedalos, but sadly the only 'assignment' I have taken recently was a very prosaic visit to a bank. I have become a mystery shopper in the name of research for a future novel, but am quite enjoying it. Despite the claims of various websites, you will not make your fortune. You'll be lucky if you make £20 per month, before tax. But you will get to lie, mildly, in a good cause. For someone as pathologically, occasionally insultingly, honest as me this should be uncomfortable, but it's oddly liberating. The best performances, of course, are based on truth. I am moderately interested in changing my current account (aren't we all?). But it's fun to be so strongly aware of what someone is saying to you and how you are being treated. Attention to detail is just what usually doesn't happen on either side of that kind of transaction. It's a tiny lesson in human interaction and the things that sustain it, or don't.

Cafe society

2008-09-12T16:09:00.000+01:00

I can concentrate better in a cafe. Honestly. I'm not yet one of those who can write in cafes - the laptop is a bit too old and creaky plus I would feel rather visible - but reading / research in cafes is definitely the way forward. Frank's Bar in Norwich forcibly reminded me of the joy of a good cafe, which is why I was so delighted to find that Dulwich's Blue Mountain cafe has a 'cousin' opposite Gipsy Hill station. They're not entirely flawless - they make most of their money from morning and lunchtime commuters, not from writers in search of tea, so they close at four which is far too early. But they do provide a splendidly quiet but welcoming place to read, replete with nice tisanes and caramel shortbread squares.

I am clearly not the only writer to enjoy cafe society, as having finally tracked down a local writing group I discover that they too have a 'cafe caucus' as well as evening / weekend meetings - I look forward to discovering them on Monday.

While I'm here, I can't help but put in a plug for my other current excitement, Uniqlo. Specifically, their cord trousers. A few years ago I had a pair of cords from Gap. The cord was fine and soft, they fit like a glove and were the perfect smokey grey. I wore them until they died, then mourned. Finally I have a fitting replacement - in fact I have five. You may call that excessive, but I'm making certain I never run out again! I have black bootcut cords for work and green bootcut cords for lazing / country walks. In a more radical departure, I also have skinny cords. In case you are wondering, although happy with my figure I have never been able to get a skinny jean past my thigh, let alone my bottom. But Uniqlo's skinny cords are miraculously accomodating. And they don't cut off my circulation or give me a muffin top. This is why I am now the proud possessor of one pair in black and two in dark grey. I have worn them four days out of every five since purchase. They have single-handedly revived various shirts that I have ignored for years, as well as adding a whole new twist to most of my shoes and boots. Best of all, they were a mere £24.99 each (less in fact with a discount card I came across). Uniqlo also stock the perfect on-trend plaid flannel shirt to go with them, but that's another story.

Norwich rocks

2008-09-02T10:49:00.000+01:00

Topped off an idle August with a really great wedding anniversary weekend in Norwich. Which officially rocks - apparently they have won some kind of international 'liveability' award. I can now see why.

We went there because we spotted a random hotel offer in the newspaper - I have been before but only when too young to notice or working too hard to see anything, but it's a great pocket-city. More shops per square inch than anywhere else I can think of, great culture that they actually make the most of (e.g. the riverwalk), fascinatingly diverse and huge castle museum, lovely deco-style hotel (St Giles House), and a fantastic dinner and live blues at 18 Bedford Street.

Special mention goes to the public art trail of decorated elephants (just finished sorry), particularly the Mondrian stylings of the Parallelephant... The other entrants to the pachyderm parade though didn't make as much effort with naming as the pig parade currently on in Bath. OK pig jokes are probably a bit easier but there are surely plenty of words that could be tacked on to 'elephant' for humorous effect? Just for starters I'm thinking Jellyphant, Elephantom, trunk call... you get the gist.

Extra special mention goes to Frank's bar. We stumbled in for tea & cake on Friday afternoon, went back for Hendrick's gin with cucumber before dinner, thought we might as well have a light lunch their on Saturday, failed to find anywhere better for tea so were back for more cake, and then had Sunday lunch there to round it all off. Their chocolate mandarin cake and sunday blueberry pancakes are out of this world, their ethical policies seem sound, their musical choices are varied but always mellow and their decor and service relaxed. Oh and they were showing the film Labyrinth on Sunday afternoon, which holds a special place in my heart (Bowie in tights... mmm... ok it's wrong but honestly this film had a profound effect on the young me!). Basically I want to live there.

Urgh my brain hurts

2008-08-26T10:14:00.000+01:00

It's just as well I've never succumbed to the tempting lure of the frightfest festival pass - just three films in a row on Sunday made my head go funny, although oddly a sneeze seemed to fix it.

'From Within' was a cool, bleak teen horror. A nice and simple creepy premise about a supernatural suicide virus. However the final couple of minutes, showing the deaths of various townsfolk, were really not necessary. It would have been better to leave it at the point where you realise the curse has not been lifted and still have just a tiny chance that the heroine will stop it in time. Plus, without wanting to go into too much detail, why would the curse creature blow out the fire that the heroine is lighting to burn the spell book, when destroying the book would only ensure it could never be destroyed? A little work still to do, but hopefully as they hadn't finished the credits they will fix this before wider release.

'The Broken' was the third film we watched, so I may have been all out of adrenalin, but it was a bit of an anticlimax. The 'mirror self' is not a new idea, though used here to very creepy effect. It almost worked, but the fact that the heroine was the mirror self was too predictable by far, and more to the point why would a bang on the head make her think she was the 'good' self for so long? And why, when only her short term memory was affected, would she apparently have forgotten her own address so that it would be a big surprise to find out that she lived in Pembridge road?

To be fair, though, few films would stand up to following 'Let the Right One In'. This was the highlight of this year's festival for me and I can't wait to read the book. A totally unconventional vampire tale - as writer John Ajvide Lindquist said, he doesn't even like vampire stories, but found the idea that you have to invite in something that might kill (or save) you compelling. Also a sweet / sad Swedish coming of age story with some very funny moments - as the bully holds our hero's head under the water, we see the feet of one of the others being dragged at supernatural speed through the water behind him as the vengeful vampire comes to save him. One slightly curious point - apparently Eli, the young vampire, is supposed to be a boy - but I'm fairly sure when he peeks at Eli changing those are not boy 'parts'... really do need to read the book...

Scary edamame

2008-08-23T12:05:00.000+01:00

Two blogs for the price of one, to make up for my neglect.

Another August Bank Holiday, another Frightfest! Which means the usual congregation of lovely weirdos in a corner of leicester square, the usual struggle with the Odeon's booking procedures (even in person, you can only get tickets for one film at a time - really good plan for a film festival guys...), and the usual excessive consumption of meals at Satsuma. What could be more comforting that prosaic and salty green edamame beans before the nerve-shredding tension of a films such as 'The Strangers"?

The strangers is not fun. Particularly if you are not a fan of scary masks. It is however an excellent film which avoids trite explanations. A couple return home late, somewhat fragile as she has just refused his proposal. A creepy girl knocks on their door, and it all escalates from there, never letting up for a second. Mid way through I discovered that my shoulders were nuzzling my ears and had to force myself to breathe and think about those wholesome edamame beans. A very good suspense movie, so much so that I almost wish I hadn't seen it - when the neighbours knocking in shelves makes you jump you know you're in trouble.

'King of the Hill' is also an excellent (Spanish) suspense movie. Not quite so painfully tense, maybe because it's open air and daylight, but with really excellent character acting. Our handsome hero 'encounters' a girl in a petrol station bathroom then gets lost while attempting to follow her car. They are both hunted by mysterious gunmen all over a very beautiful hill. The cinematography does full justice to the really stunning autumnal landscape, as our 'hero' falls to bits in a convincing and sometimes funny way. Initially when the shooters are revealed as children I was not impressed, but the film manages to carry it off. And kudos for making the dog, whose barking has heralded terror throughout, a big soft family pet in the end!

The first film we saw was 'I know how many runs you scored last summer'. This one was a world premiere and to be honest it's not really ready for a wider audience. Barely full length, and barely a plot, it still manages to be a horribly gory but often extremely funny film. They could make even more of the cricket motif, but their use of 'howzat' had to be seen to be believed. The main plot flaw, though, is that if just one of the characters screamed when they ought to, all the rest would have been forewarned. Oh and the directors are very proud of their soft porn shower scene - personally, I think that their body double for a british / aussie cop should have had real breasts...

Warm lemonade

2008-08-23T11:49:00.000+01:00

Aargh, sorry, neglect of blog for almost a month very bad. In my defence, for at least the final week of that month I have been ignoring all modern technology in favour of the decorous delights of Bath.

The Thermae Bath Spa is one of those projects that went on far too long, costing far too much money, so that it's a real surprise to find that it is finally with us. I've been twice now, and struggle with my feelings towards it. The problem is this:

1. It is GROSSLY overpriced. Or rather, in market terms obviously they are pricing it just right but in any kind of philosophical sense £22 for two hours swim and steam + £9 for hire of robe, towel and slippers is just a massive rip-off. Residents of Bath do at least get £4 off - which they can then sacrifice to obtain a towel (robe be damned).

2. The design of the place is... problematic. It's tall and narrow, meaning that you have to walk up and down an inordinate amount of stairs to get anywhere (there are lifts - well, two - but I just feel wrong taking a lift in my bikini). And changing is a total nightmare. I can see how their high-tech, unisex changing room plan seemed excellent on paper but it's just no fun in real life. You can only reach the lockers or leave at the end through a changing cubicle, severely restricting your ability to see where you are or find your companions. The lever to open the cubicle doors is subtle enough that several people a day must lose fingernails trying to pry the doors open before they find it. The space between cubicles and lockers is too narrow for people to pass freely up and down, but pass you must because there never seems to be a locker free close by. You then have to move again to find the magic pad that locks and unlocks your locker using your wristband... which remembers your precise locker number but woe betide you if you can't remember at least the rough area it was in. The showers are on a different floor and have shampoo but no conditioner. The whole thing is bizarre and nightmareish.

3. I use the word 'swim' above loosely. One bathes here. There is no room for anything more active. The minerva pool indoors is just a bit dull - the currents that float you in gentle circles are fun for about five minutes but there are two many pillars, stairs etc for any meaningful movement.

BUT - then you get to the rooftop pool. The water is a glorious body-temperature. The long blue floats are like the arms of your favourite chair. The patch of bubbles like warm lemonade is heaven to float in. The views of Bath are spectacular. And so all is forgiven.

The four very large steam rooms are nice too (though the foot spas are pathetic). To the roof! Always to the roof.

Visa Swap

2008-07-30T09:06:00.000+01:00

I have been so shelf-obsessed lately (no pun intended - honest) that I forgot to blog about visa swap, the ultimate in credit-crunch fashion, or at least in fashion for the low key high flyer not presently drawing any income...

I would include a link but to be honest the visa swap website is terminally dull - probably the oddest of several odd things about the occasion. Now that this year's event is over, all they seem to have left is a page to sign up for updates. How about some photos and commentary to whet our appetites for next time guys? The choice of Lindsay Lohan as figurehead is also questionable - not so much because of her recent plummet from grace generally, but more because a London event deserves a London face. Personally, my choice would be Erin O'Connor but I'm sure there are dozens of possibilities.

So what is visa swap? You take in your unwanted clothes, bags and shoes and are awarded points per item depending what they are and whether they are designer, mid-range or high street. It's pretty easy to build up points - I had about a thousand and only used half in the end. Then on the final weekend you are let loose to spend your points on everyone's donations at the visa swap 'loft' (er, it's mostly on the ground floor).

It's a really great idea provided you ignore the more excitable rumours about designer goods and recognise that it's a giant rummage sale - in a good cause because the leftovers go to Traid. Yes ideally they would get more shops and celebs to donate really good stuff but I only saw three or four designer pieces (I was about 20th in the queue on the first day) and wouldn't have wanted any of them - too small, too stained or just in a foul colour.

Those in the know also bring a massive shopper or bin liner to carry their booty - the rest of us dragged it around in our arms and had post-shopping elbow for days. Patient scouring of the rails, trying not to hate the girl who reached the green coat before me, came up with an armful of 13 items, some for me and some for friends. Not bad when you consider its basically free. My highlights were shoes with red roses on, a brand new St Martin's toile de jouy summer skirt, a gorgeous indian kaftan (purchased in the market in Rome according to its former owner who I bumped into) and a very cool little t-shirt featuring a businessman and a pirate. Truthfully, I might not have paid full price for any of these things in a shop, but part of the fun is that you can take whatever you like and see if it works later - great for those who are nervous of experimenting or wasting money on things they won't wear. I'm already stacking up stuff to donate next year...

Shelf love

2008-07-29T15:14:00.000+01:00

From the moment we first viewed our house, I knew we had to knock through between the lounge and the kitchen, and from the moment the hole was made I knew it needed to be framed with fitted shelves. After several months dreaming, a couple more finding the right affordable carpenter and a few more still waiting for this rare species to finish other commissions, the shelves are here! I can almost forget the two dusty days it took to fit them and the entire weekend during which we cursed our decision to paint them ourselves for reasons of econ0my. All that is history - I can walk through a wall of books!

I had fitted bookshelves around me as I grew up and something inside me just feels better about them being there. There's just one problem... by my calculations we have enough space to accommodate another 2-3 years books, cds and dvds - after that, it's back to the drawing board, or possibly we'll just have to move house, to somewhere that already has fitted shelves...

Blood and prevarication

2008-07-15T11:21:00.001+01:00

Yesterday I finally got around to giving blood for the first time - following the good example of my husband and aunt and also because I want to know my blood group (not had the letter yet and I'm sure it will be deeply dull but doesn't everybody secretly want to have special blood? Just me then...).

There is genuinely so little to it that I feel even more guilty for having left it so long - it just feels like getting holiday jabs, and with free bourbons afterwards! So if anyone else out there has been putting it off, go now and revel in the sugary rewards of virtue.

It is also a great excuse for idleness. Yes, technically you are fine to work, play and really do anything except operate heavy machinery or drink more than about a glass of wine - but it does make you kind of hungry and sleepy and is a great excuse to have a Sunday-ish time relaxing.

Coincidentally - or it it - I have just discovered a great new way to kill time. Yes I am very late to discover the phenomenon that is Threadless T-shirts, but I have made up for it by ordering seven Ts and rating about a million designs. Yes I have spent about three hours in the last two days on a T-shirt website... For those like me who wallowed in ignorance of this great cultural phenomenon, Threadless is a kind of ongoing design competition for T-shirts (and now also prints). If you join you can rate designs and the most popular are printed and sold - leading to the best selection of Ts I have ever seen at very reasonable prices (ah that weak dollar... but even without that and with the international postage it wouldn't be too bad). You can also vote for reprints of designs that have sold out.

I hasten to add that before I found Threadless, I did finish the first draft of my first novel - it's rather short and frankly not very good, but with lots of good stuff in it waiting to be rescued in draft 2...

Skin & Bones

2008-07-11T16:20:00.000+01:00

Skin & Bones as in the exhibition - 'Parallel Practices in Fashion and Architecture' - now on at Somerset House.

This was tricky for me. There is some mind-blowing fashion in it that I love. In particular, the sculptural, fantastical yet wearable clothes from Boudicca's Invisible City collection and Alexander McQueen's Widows of Culloden - which gets points for name alone.

The Mobius strip dress by Meejin Yoon, complete with pictures of how zips transform it from an A-line cocoon to a dress to the famous strip (and there's a stripping pun in there somewhere that they all seem to have missed or turned up their noses at) is very clever.

Yohji Yamamoto's 'Secret' dress from his 1999 Wedding collection is truly ingenious - the dress is beautiful but the best part is the video of the catwalk display. A model comes in, looking around her as if surprised by all the people. As she walks, the hoops in the dress make her seem to float and sway as if walking on water. Just as you think she's made her final turn, a look of mischief comes over her face and she unzips a pocket in her skirt, pulling out a pair of sandals. She puts them on using just her feet, holding up the big skirt, with endearing clumsiness. Then there's more. She opens another pocket and extracts what looks like a complete parachute - two assistants help her don this long robe to cover her shoulders. Out comes a vast hat, and a sort of lace posy to hold. Not one of these things spoiled the original line of the dress in any way. Magic.

But what does this really have to do with 'Shelter', or any of the other rather tenuous linking themes? I can't argue that both fashion and architecture DO have to do with skin & bones, with shelter, with volume, with deconstruction, identity, pleating etc etc. But this exhibition does not provide me with any further information on how, beyond what I could have thought up for myself. The labeling is sparse - most information is saved for the (free) brochure, some items receive next to no explanation even there. In the thematic category 'Weaving' there is plenty of architecture, but no fashion at all... is weaving just too obvious for them to need to display it? I can't help but feel cheated.

The whole show smacks of very stylish laziness, relying on the genius of some of the creators to excuse the curators. I entered, ready and eager, to discover that 'This exhibition takes the early 1980s as a starting point'. But the next - the first - tangible exhibit is from the (late) 1990s - the 1980s are represented by a schoolgirl montage of pages from magazines. Most of all, the show told me nothing at all about technique. It did not, for example, show me how cantilevering can be used creatively in architecture, or how fashion designers have learned from this. Nowhere, in fact, was there the suggestion that any specific designer or architect had been directly inspired by the other discipline or tried precisely to emulate its techniques. I suppose that's just about ok given that we are examining 'parallel' practices, but I still craved at least some actual information.

The booklet explains a little about the architects and their buildings, but I get no sense of architectural history and development, of parallel movements. Yes I too could put a pleated dress next to a photo of a 'pleated' building, but so what? I could throw in some origami too, and some examples from nature, art, cookery - and it might look very pretty but it just doesn't mean very much. Also, in all honesty, the difference in fashion terms between 'volume' (ruffles in this case), 'pleating' and 'folding' is not very great.

Go and see this if you admire sculptural, clever fashion - or perhaps if you are a connoisseur of architectural drawings and photographs (I am not) - but expect to find fabulous wallpaper, not a great novel.

Life's little questions - part 1

2008-07-04T10:10:00.000+01:00

What does a combine harvester actually combine?
Apparently, harvesting and threshing. Not sure that I am much the wiser. I should have paid more attention at Cogges Farm Museum but where there are pigs and rabbits it is pretty much guaranteed that informative posters will remain unread.

What is the weirdest crossbreed on the British road system?
On the way to Cogges, the bus goes over a crossing which is designated a 'humped toucan'. This presumably means there are also humped zebras (well with all those camels around what do you expect) and, still more intriguingly, humped pelicans!

What would happen if Mr Whippy met Miss Whiplash?
Thankfully we shall never know.

Lure of the East

2008-06-24T18:15:00.000+01:00

Went to the Tate Britain the other day, possibly for the first time since it became the Tate Britain rather than simply the Tate - very remiss, I know. Found the Lure of the East exhibition very beguiling. Like my favourite annual exhibition, the BP Portrait Award, it shares artistic interest with human interest. And, of course, in this case authorial research interest, shedding another kind of light on Cairo for me.

It's fair to say that the pictures are of mixed artistic merit, but most are interesting in one way or another. The galleries are thoughtfully arranged in themes that are not too wearying - opening with portraits in Eastern dress is inspired, though I have to say for me it just showed how wildly incongruous most of those who 'went native' (at least for a portrait) would have looked, particularly those of a celtic complexion who look almost blue in colourful silks that clash with their hair. Apparently, though, it's not unusual for the Afghans to be pale also. Jean-Leon Gerome's small portrait of Napoleon near the Cairo cemeteries was my favourite here - very much in his own dress and looking all the more striking for it.

Room 2 'genre and gender' is really just about the outside - and so male - spaces, with an occasional incursion by women, as slaves or as customers. Some lovely market scenes and a very good commentary on these available on the bench in the centre, but the most unusual room 2 picture for me is the cock fight where the cocks have been blurred into invisibility leaving only the audience.

Room 3 centres on Jerusalem, but also has some lovely paintings of mosques and churches in Cairo and Istanbul - not the most compelling room for me as few of the paintings contain people, and it leads into the really rather dull room 4 which has a rather too small screen of photographs from the three cities, and a rather too large screen with a map showing the movements of some of the painters and patrons, with the occasional scattergun historical event.

Room 5 is devoted to Harem and Home, with a very lovely screen casting evocative shadows all over the walls. Although, as ever, this exhibition fails to reproduce all the most interesting paintings as postcards or prints, they did choose wisely for their poster with a section of Arthur Melville's limpid Arab Interior, definitely my favourite image from an artistic standpoint. Why you can only get a postcard size reproduction of this (or the poster with writing etc) is beyond me - anyone else care to join the campaign to improve gallery shops? Their selection of 'Eastern' paraphernalia is also largely lamentable - yes the turquoise bowls are pretty but one can get them far cheaper elsewhere.

I was flagging by the final room, which contains some fine landscapes though I am dubious about the merits of aerial perspective in painted form. As you might expect, the gender politics of the exhibition are careful - credit to them for including comment from several Egyptians / Africans. It was interesting, and plausible, to learn that English women admitted to the Harem found it much more a family area and sometimes a retreat than male fantasy had created. I do find the arguments about the liberating impact of the veil harder to understand though - certainly there have been times when veiled women have been able to go where those with bare faces could not, but to argue that this is liberation seems disingenuous. A complex subject though, even without recent years history - I also enjoyed a recent BBC show about modern Muslim women which showed how elaborate and beautiful the veils can be, with colours, embroidery and complex knotting at the back.

Off for a week where I may or may not have internet access - more thereafter.

Words I would like to hear more of, part 1

2008-06-14T16:54:00.000+01:00

I am a big fan of words in general. But it's particularly nice to hear one you don't hear so often. This week's word revival chez me is 'farewell'. Somewhere down the line it became all over-dramatic and Heathcliffesque, but it's really rather more friendly than 'goodbye' to my mind. You wish someone a good journey or even life, in effect, rather than saying it's good that they're off. I suppose you could take it either way though cos now I think about it 'have a nice life' isn't a great sentiment either...

As ever I turn for help to the Online Etymology Dictionary, which tells me that 'faren wel' (journey well) was said in Middle English, and the standard REPLY was 'good-bye' which comes from God be with you (godbwye)...

So we should be using both.

Did I mention that I love words?

Doughnut nemesis

2008-06-10T10:34:00.000+01:00

And so, as promised, some thoughts on Alton Towers.

Thoughtlessly, Calke Abbey is closed on Fridays so although we had a nice meander around their extensive parkland our attempt at mature culture was thwarted. Likewise at Alton Towers my best intentions to explore the ruined towers and the really rather attractive gardens fell by the wayside in favour of more adrenalin highs (and an unreasonably long wait for lunch).

I have a confession to make. I will ride on (almost) any rollercoaster, but I don't really like the newer ones. They go so fast that my tendency is just to close my eyes, grit my teeth and hope that it ends without my neck compressing itself entirely into my spine. I did manage to keep my eyes open for the beginning of Nemesis this time but failed miserably on Rita Queen of Speed (no idea why they called it Rita but I like it). My favourite rollercoaster is the Runaway Mine Train - it's got sufficient thrills to be interesting but at a speed where you can see them coming; it doesn't cause physical pain; and you get to go round it twice! What could be better.

I am also a big fan of Hex, which makes you feel gently nauseous without moving you much at all - also very funny to watch people who haven't been on it before and don't understand that the room is moving round them not the opposite. And I love the spinning teacups - albeit they have now become piratical rum barrels - which are basically waltzers where you control the speed and direction.

The doughnuts are dangerous in conjunction with rollercoasters, but not to be missed in their soft warm fresh-baked state. Water rides are also incompatible with doughnuts, but very good fun - except that the water really doesn't smell too good... I advise mouth shut and waterproof jacket on. Oh, and the sudden appearance of a giant rubber duck out of the darkness on the flume can be nightmare-inducing if you're of a nervous disposition...

On a more serious note, this week sees the next vote on 42 day detention, which despite government 'concessions' still flies in the face of international human rights and undermines the values it purports to defend. You can see Amnesty's reasons why it's a bad idea here, and sign the 'not a day longer' petition here.

Sex & the City - postscript

2008-06-10T10:31:00.000+01:00

Just found someone else who enjoyed S&C the Everyman matinee way - this is officially the top way to enjoy an afternoon off this week.

Also forgot to mention my personal favourite scene, where Big accuses Carrie of being the only person who still gets books out of the library and she says she likes how they smell. Shades of Giles in Buffy the Vampire Slayer explaining to computer teacher Jenny Calendar that knowledge should have texture and 'be smelly' - also in reference to his library books. I couldn't agree more.

Sex & the City - once more with feeling

2008-06-04T20:33:00.000+01:00

A topic that cannot currently be avoided. In essence, if you like the series you will like the movie. A movie that faithfully replicates its own series is a lovely (and rare) thing. Very happily, it's a bit like they made another season of the show, which you can watch on the big screen.

The best way to enjoy it, as tested by myself and friend, must surely be as follows:

1. Enjoy some ritual pampering or preparation - I had just-stepped-out-of-a-salon hair, my friend had fabulous painted toenails.

2. Don't even consider watching this at your average cinema. At the everyman in Hampstead, for a price no more unreasonable than Leicester Square, you can have a comfy sofa and put your feet up with a G&T. Bliss. Now I just have to persuade them to stock cakes from their local bakeries...

3. Be comfortable, as above, with the fact that this is like the series. That's to say it's about friendships, fashion and romance. Plot is not really a huge feature - you may have read the outline in magazines e.g. 'Charlotte is pregnant' - that is basically her entire plot line, plus one comedy toilet incident. But friends are still friends, Carrie and Big still have the big dramatic romance (while the others have satisfyingly realistic relationships), and the fashion is inspired. My personal favourite is the stunning purple jersey dress Carrie wears when leaving her apartment, but there are so many to choose from.

4. After your lengthy and relaxing cinematic experience, prepare for a lengthy and relaxing digestion of it - Dim T is minutes from the everyman and does bento boxes (before 6pm) that are cheaper than the everyman's snacks, and can be followed by chocolate fondue - need I say more.

I think the only down side for me was the fur - anti-fur protesters are portrayed in the film, but as screaming frumpy lunatics - hardly Stella McCartney darling. Also, kudos to Carrie / SJP for not sharing her sex life. Yes there has to be some but it felt a bit like we were going round each couple's bed in turn at one point. Let's be clear though, i love this and will see it again, and again, and again...

Coming next...the report from Alton Towers. The life of a low key high flyer is not ALL about guilty pleasures though, honest - I cracked 100 pages on the draft novel this week (though unfortunately this draft is not going to reach 200 - i need some more subplots!)

'Confluence of Sound'

2008-05-25T09:31:00.000+01:00

I'll just go ahead and say it - I love the Eurovision song contest. It just makes me happy. Nothing is more guaranteed to provide something that will make your jaw hit the floor, or will make you want to marry Terry Wogan. As the piercing lady presenter said, it was full of unforgeddable moments.

Did Russia deserve to win? Well, skaters and violinists with large noses don't really do it for me, but that's hardly the point. I did enjoy the Shakira-esque stylings of Greece, Armenia and the Ukraine - particularly the Ukrainian lady's 'strike a pose' moments in front of her lightboxes.

And then of course there's the special stuff. France thought they were being weird with Sebastian Tellier's golf cart and bearded backing ladies, but then Bosnia came and blew them out of the water. I have no idea what a song requiring 4 brides, one washing line, a woman with a birds nest on her head and a skirt covered in apples and a man with more blusher than i have ever seen could be about, but it was oddly compelling. Honorable mentions must go to Finland's hair metal (3 drummers, one with a furry cape); Croatia's muppet-style grumpy pensioner in a white hat (could he be described as a rapper? Was he in fact 75 cents as advertised??); Icelands happy house track; Turkeys almost-indie rock & roll (note to cameraman, the long haired one you ignored was the cutest); the Latvian pirates with their total lack of credibility; and the really quite tasteful Norwegian track.

The worst entries? Well lets be honest, Poland and Germany deserved to be at the bottom more than we did - for sunbed abuse and in Germany's case a total inability to sing in tune (with the music, with one another, with the nearest cat - anything). But I am still reeling from Spain's miniature Elvis with his bollywood moves - it wasn't e even so bad it was funny - it was just horrible.

With Terry, I was somewhat mystified by the success of Azerbaijan's operatic angels (and devil with his glass of 'blood') - and by the way it was all too clear in the green room that coloured contacts and special hair have a highly transformative effect - could you see any angels there? Thought not.

Some themes of the evening - cross-dressing, starting with the dancers for last year's winner in the opening number who wore half & half male & female evening dress. Women who all have the same tan, teeth, legs, lips and eyeshadow - Poland and Norway opted for the ironed hair, the rest for curly, Sweden's eyeshadow made her (?) look like an alien, and then of course there was the presenter of the Russian votes who had plaits, a trilby and a lace cravat.

All that can be said about the band who came on during the scoring, and their red and blue painted dancers, was said by Terry - 'you either get buried or married to this.' He also had the last word on the green room shenanigans - 'Is that man taking a photo of the camera?'

On the scoring - 'London calling' still sounds more impressive than when anywhere else tries it; rimless glasses are scary (yes I mean you, France and Albania); Moldova you should read your Fairy Tales before offering the presenters a shiny red apple; Thomas in Germany did you really love Azerbaijan so much that you had to steal their angel wings?; The Czech republic, it's understandable to confuse Azerbaijan and Armenia, but golden haired Bjorn from Sweden, if you can't say Bosnia Herzegovina it's time to back away from the bottle and the autocue.

Altogether now, with Terry - 'Now might be a good time to make yourself a stiff drink.'

Good taste and psychopaths

2008-05-15T11:16:00.000+01:00

I am in mourning for the end of Dexter - everyone's favourite psychopath. However although they chickened out slightly from the truly confused Dexter in the books who really came a lot closer to killing his sister, they did set it up nicely for a further series. Meanwhile I await the next paperback. It's the dry tone that's the real joy, like a rather cynical alien observing human customs, then getting sucked in against his will.

Went to the Geffrye Museum the other day, which shows middle class household interiors from the 1600s to the present. Perhaps the most unexpected dimension to it is the very green and cloistered-feeling courtyard which although right on Kingsland Road (by no means a cloistered environment...) has a very peaceful Hogwarts air about it. You can see most of the displays, done as period rooms, in an hour or two - for my money the 30s to 60s have by far the most covetable items, including the Balzac leather armchair and pleasingly the white pottery polar bear also owned by my grandparents. The bear's clean lines including a suitably sharp looking face are simultaneously stylised and menacingly realistic - it used to scare me witless when I slept opposite it in my grandparents' spare room when I was small. There are also some fun paintings, including a great one of the mob observed from the club window - the woman is leaning out in her evening dress to observe the plebs in action but the man doesn't even consider it worth turning his head for.

On a totally unrelated note, in the run up to the China Olympics, do check out Amnesty's China Human Rights pages.

Back to school (via Cairo)

2008-05-13T09:08:00.000+01:00

So, a bad week for blogging (sorry this is a little late), but only because last week was very good for the writing.

I'm not sure what mental block prevented me from understanding when I was younger that writing a novel doesn't (for most people) involve having an idea and sitting down to write, but requires rather more research and planning. I have however just finished my first full synopsis of my planned novel, and am very excited to get started. It's fair to say that through my month and a bit of research the plan has changed direction radically, which has been useful, but more to the point it's felt really great to be learning about something new again - my knowledge of Egypt and of the Desert War in the 1940s was pretty much non-existent so it's been a real voyage of discovery. I've also been re-reading the Arabian Nights - I had forgotten how amazingly callous some of the stories are, with plenty of unexpected violent or deadly punishments that are regretted at leisure afterward, not to mention the details like the various importunate lovers who end up locked in a stack of cupboards with their urine falling on those below. No doubt this is why I liked them as a child - they remind me slightly of Roald Dahl's gruesomeness. Plus there are all the magic Djins, fish that talk and other fun things.

As well as back to school on the research (or at least to the library), I also went on an excellent City Lit one-day course on writing for picture books for very young children. This was a great chance to workshop some ideas, but also to learn the things that you never think of as a novice - like the fact that rhyme (though popular with kids) does not translate, and that most picture books have a standard number of pages to do with how they are batch-printed. First picture books for the under-3s tend to be deathly dull for adults, because fantasy elements are just confusing at that age, but for 3-6s you can have much more fun - although it turned out my idea had about 3 stories worth of plot in one, which I guess is good news when i come to rework it!

It's not over until the fat man sings - from the heart!

2008-05-03T12:32:00.001+01:00

Went last night to see Deadline and Mad Sin at the Islington Academy - which reminded me of the time some years ago when I saw Evanescence and Jane's Addiction over the course of a few days - that's to say, the first band were all about the technically admirable and satisfying in stereo, whereas the second brought the true heartfelt mayhem, charisma and sex, with much more exciting results.

I don't want to be rude about Deadline - I really liked the music and will almost certainly pay money for it at some point and be happy - but someone needs to tell the singer that ironing her hair flat (including the so-now, so-vogue-meets-essex long fringe) and tucking it behind her ear every time it threatens to go astray is just not rock&roll... when she punched the air the fun came solely from comparing it to Evanescence's 'daring' exortation to us to 'rock our asses off' - oooooh, xena warrior princess (almost) swore!

With Mad Sin, however, words cannot really do justice. Their stage preparations included setting up the immense black double bass, which glowed eerily in its border of red fairy lights with a small trail of smoke rising behind it. The double bass player has a red tip to his quiff to match the lights, and at one point managed (slowly) to swing the entire base around his head. Oh, and at a key point in the performance the head of the double base emits a shower of sparks to the ceiling. All of which is fun, but not nearly so exhilarating and confusing as the sight of their behemoth of a singer, belly straining at his braces, scarf turning to limp rag, and quiff turning at the back into what I can only describe a kind of horned tonsure, leaping and kicking as he exercises his vocal range from squeal to gravel. The music is not greatly varied - but it's all about rhythm and pace and appeals on a visceral level. Each time the singer high-kicks or does a 'brrr' wobble with his jowls his entire body vibrates in a long wave, mesmerically. Meanwhile on the left is what appears from his emaciation to be the singer's knawed bone, with a quiff cunningly shaped to bring out the oddity of his head. The double bassist also sings, as does 'elvis' who is brought out mid way for a couple of songs, possibly to prevent the singer from a coronary. Compelling viewing...

Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome...

2008-04-27T16:05:00.000+01:00

Greetings.

If you are new to my blogs, you are the most exciting thing ever to happen to me, I love you and I have every confidence that though you are not usually susceptible to shameless flattery you will embrace this blog and everything in it as a discovery of your supreme good taste, link to it at every opportunity, and tell all your friends.

My existing friends, I love you too and thank you for joining me in my new persona as the low key high flyer. It's a description I first came up with on a training programme called 'preparing for top management'. It was a great course, but did highlight to me that I was supposed to have a bit of a one track mind of the 'onwards and upwards - as fast as possible' variety. Low key high flyer seems particularly apposite to my time on sabbatical - best characterised as 'onwards and sideways - with plenty of pauses for tea & cake'. Also of course it's a little more accessible and hopefully memorable to those who have not known me long enough to understand the name hmsankh.

I'll be hoping to post much more regularly than before now that the kitchen table is my empire. Meanwhile, if life is a cabaret, where is my orchestra? Out there somewhere, I'm sure.

The cost of anoraks

2008-04-27T15:42:00.000+01:00

'Being one or wearing one?' I hear you ask... but it probably comes to the same thing.

I can truly find no reason for the extraordinary cost of waterproof jackets for walking in Cumbria and other anorak-y pursuits. I find it hard to believe that since the invention of Gore-Tex there have really been any revolutions in the manufacture of water- and wind-proof material sufficient to justify the astronomical prices on show in Keswick's many emporia of outdoor wear. Anoraks are surely not such a niche industry that I should be paying for their entire research budget with a single purchase. So it must come down to design.

Here again though there are certain features which really should be a given - the peaked hood, for example, is clearly industry standard because once you've had one you really never want to go back to the type that lets rain run down your face. Which pretty much just leaves

colour - a toss up between tasteful 'landscape' colours or noisy 'rescue me' combinations - again hardly requiring vast imagination,
shape - so called female-fit is to be approached warily as it will either cut off your circulation or make you look like a blimp,
tactile qualities - OK I have to admit the apparently brushed cotton effect of my husband's astronomically expensive jacket is more pleasing than typical waterproof material, and
pointless gimmicks - including the ability to zip in a fleece lining (the whole point is you want to be able to add and remove layers easily, not by fighting them apart) and the curious pocket / button hole / tiny loop combination that is supposed to keep your 'entertainment system' in place - am I alone in thinking that my i-pod is primarily for the exclusion of unwanted reality and therefore of least possible relevance when out on the fells?

I suppose there is the truly anorak-y factor of how 'serious' your outdoor kit is. Paying a lot for your waterproof perhaps says that although you come from the safety of the sub/urbs, you know what you are doing in 'real' landscape and weather.

All this aside, I am pretty pleased with my new anorak, which is infinitely more tasteful than my previous green. blue & burgundy number and has nifty little reflective stripes so that I can blend into the mountain in general but still be found. More to the point, there is still nothing to beat the view from Coniston Old Man to put things in perspective - and nothing like the millionaires shortbread at the Jumping Jenny Cafe at Brantwood to enhance your look back across the lake at the peak.

Such are the activities of the low key high flyer...