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radio silence

Apologies for the radio silence the last week.  I had a bit of a light bulb moment last week in regards to something I can’t really discuss at the moment.  Anyhoo, it’s a bloody genius idea and I’m going to be developing it in more detail.  Think of it as my total world domination (oh god, think of the Google hits I’ll get off of that phrase).  I plan to conquer the world with it! (yes I’m sure you can all see the mental image of me rubbing my hands together with hunched shoulders and saying “excellent” in a Mr Burns-esque manner).

The only thing I’m going to share with my very few readers is a question.  When you pick up and read a book for enjoyment (as I know you all do), what words come to mind?  What do you immediately think of when you think of a book?

Such a loss

I know this blog is supposed to be about books and literature, but I wanted to take the time to pay tribute to Alexander McQueen, who died today.  A really talented fashion designer.  Britain has lost one of its shining lights.

Something she’s not

She sits, bolt upright, and surveys the room.  Like her, everyone here is a stranger to one another.  She seems too rigid and false.  Her hair is not carefully coiffured, it is a mess of thick wiry blond, it  is reminiscent of a sheep’s coat.   She surveys the scene, having arrived later than everyone else, the session is just starting, but she looks at everyone with a careful disdain.  Her eyes narrow and her lips contract until a small thin pink line is all that’s visible.  Perhaps she is annoyed, perhaps she is disgusted, it is hard to tell, but her look causes a bristle to the person carefully watching her behaviour.

The introductions had already begun, carefully moving about the room, conveying who each person is, and why they are here.  A lot of nervous smiles and a wash of pride for every person who has gotten to this room today.  Yet she sits, and she watches and she waits.  When it is her turn, she conveys an authority that does not appear to be hers to give.  There is something in her voice, like she has to boast of her background and what it is that she does, like she is somehow more important than every other person in the room.  There is something about her that appears false, that she is something less than she is.

The hours tick by and she remains ramrod straight in her chair.  Her looks suggest she is at odds with the room, like they do not deserve to be there as much as she does, what rights do they have.  When the break comes and she stands to leave the room, her clothes give her away more.  Clean and tidy, and carefully put together, but no brands are on show.  When she returns, she perches on her seat and opens her lunch, the observer of her behaviour notes what it is and how she nibbles her food.  It reminds the observer of a squirrel, holding a nut in both hands and carefully nibbling away.

Having a voice

Something has definitely changed.  It’s not that I want to stand on top of the highest building and shout it out (for a fear of heights will stop me before the stupidity of it all stops me), but I do want to have a voice, and to be heard.  I’m not talking about writing a book, as I feel like that’s my calling, I know that that is what I was born to do.  What I’m actually talking about is having my voice heard by those that matter, of taking thee time to share how good or bad something is with those that count.

It’s all very well complaining to your friends about how bad something has been, be it service or product, but it’s another thing to stand up and tell the people or company concerned that you are very much dissatisfied with them.  Conversely, the same could be said for if something is really good, if you’re really pleased with something.  In fact, I think people are more likely to complain than they are to pass on their thanks about something.

I don’t know what changed, but suddenly I seem to be taking the time to pass on my thanks to companies where I’ve had good service.  So far this year I have thanked the nice AA man, who came out on the first day of the snow to change my battery in my car.  Even though I was unlikely to be going anywhere that day, it was still really nice of him to come all the way out and do a job, in the cold, and keep a smile on his face.  Today I thanked my hair dresser for giving me the best hair cut I’ve had since leaving London.

On the flip side, in the last month I’ve complained to two Chief Executives about a poor quality service, and failure by the said company to do something very simple.  One of the complaints so far has had an affect, the other, I’ve heard nothing.  At least I’ve had a voice to do something at the end of the day.  If you don’t stand up and be counted, then it makes it hard to justify anything that you might say.  I also find it helps me sleep better at night.

I’m sure there are many of you who think that I’m going to start spouting on about it being an election year, and if you don’t vote, you don’t have a voice.  Well I’m not.  My feelings on the subject of politics are very clear.  A lot of you might not share my sentiments and it’s not really fair to force them upon you, so for now, I’ll say nothing.

Threatened?

Today was my first tutorial of my new OU course and two things were evident from the end of the first session.

1. This course reaffirms my belief that studying English literature was the thing to do. I just get it. I’m not struggling with the terms or what they mean and I love it!

2. Everyone there seems to want to do the same thing as me, namely, write. So, you would think that in a room of my peers I would feel at home. I didn’t. I felt outrage. Part of me seems to think this is a competition and they are a threat to my success. I shouldn’t feel like this, but I do and it worries me.

I shall perhaps explore this in another post when I have had a chance to digest what I’m thinking and feeling.

Unsubscribe

So as part of my continuing campaign of tidying up my email and laptop, I’ve been attempting to unsubscribe myself from as many “newsletters” as I can.  Mainly because I very very rarely read them.  The likelihood of me reading one is quite slim.  Anyway, after unsubscribing to four newsletters in a row this morning, it strikes me that people who email these newsletters to people should really take more care to display their unsubscription notices in a more prevalent location.

More often than not, they’re a little link buried at the bottom of the page which to be honest, doesn’t help.  I know why they do it, but at the end of the day, I don’t want people to keep emailing me about some TV I could win (if I lived in America), or the best loan offer (if you have a squeaky clean credit rating and are prepared to commit debasing acts to get one), or even the best insurance offers (normally not the best).

So today’s tally is upto an amazing 4 unsubscribed emails.  I wonder how many more I can get rid of?

Groundhog day

No, this isn’t a post about the movie, which I don’t actually like that much btw, it’s a post about the weather.  I woke this morning and looked out at the back garden which was still bathed in moonlight.  “hmmm, frosty then” I thought to myself, and trundled off to the bathroom.  Please bear in mind it was about ten to six and I’d had about five hours sleep (although when I finally got to sleep, it was five good hours).

So I’m in the bathroom, and I look up at the window (it’s a huge velux jobby) and I think, “hmmm, that looks a little more like snow than frost”.  I think little more of it until I’m in the shower and am convinced that it does look more like snow than frost (as frost makes this wonderful pattern on the glass). I finally get dressed and decide to stick my head to the window on the stairs and think “hmmm, the road looks awfully white all of a sudden, perhaps it has snowed”.

Going out to start the car to let it do the hard work of defrosting and my rather perplexed instincts in the shower were correct, we’ve had snow again.  It’s not much, it’s a fine dusting of the hard round type, you know, the one that looks like someone’s dropped a huge bag of polystyrene balls all over the place.  Oh well, it’s not like it was a month ago.  Still, everything looked very pretty, even though it was pretty dark out.

This is yet one more reason why I love living in our little village.

Clearing out the clutter

There comes a time when your life is just overwhelmed by clutter.  It becomes so choked, that you cannot move without wanting to sweep an arm over the detritus to clear it all away.  Call it what you want, a blank slate, a clean sheet or clutter free.  A week ago, this blog had just over 800 posts.  Most of them were utter dross, added for the sheer sake of adding them.  They provided no actual substance and was just a reflection of the vapidness of my life over the last decade.

So I’ve just spent the last two hours removing all traces.  I spared no mercy on the situation either.  If it looked crap, off to the trash folder it went.  I am now down to 77 posts.  I hope to add more than this over time clearly.  Now I’ve done this I feel like flexing my arm over other areas of my life.  I seem to be looking at everything and questioning whether there’s a way I can pare things down a bit.  Perhaps this is a new challenge, or perhaps it’s a stalling tactic, I don’t know.  Regardless of what I want to call it, I think I’m going to tidy up the junk.  The utensils draw had better watch out, as I think it’s the next victim on my list.

Oxford literary festival

I realised this morning (thanks to a timely email reminder), that the Oxford literary festival is on in March.  This year I’ve taken the opportunity to book for two sessions a week apart.  I’m going to a reading by Philip Pullman and two other children’s authors (who I’m afraid I don’t know) and a workshop on creating children’s literature.  Whilst I haven’t committed myself to writing for children, I thought exploring the avenues that were available to me would be a good thing to do.

Find out about the talks that are being held www.oxfordliteraryfestival.com (the link will open in a new window).

A note for returning visitors

A note for returning visitors (I say returning, hopefully you’re being re-directed here from emchi.co.uk).  I do apologise for the need to re-register.  I have however, enabled OpenID, and if you give me a few more days I’m trying to find out if I can put other registration methods on here (i.e. if you’ve got a Google or Yahoo profile).  I hope you found the site OK.

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