I used to love learning the words to favourite songs, and would write them all down. I recorded them onto tape from the radio, fast forwarding and rewinding until I had got them all right. At the age of 12 or 13, I got into 60’s music – in the dark days before I found Motown, and then Northern Soul, and I was especially intrigued by the lyrics in the following two records, and the atmospheric feel to the music.
· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QN7kmOhBMw ‘Ha Ha Said The Clown’ by Manfred Mann.
· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_2hXBf1DakE ‘She’s Not There’ by The Zombies
Proper storytelling is evident in both songs; something I always enjoy. Other favourites include ‘Scenes from an Italian Restaurant’ by Billy Joel and ‘Paradise by the Dashboard Light’. I still know them all off by heart (and in fact have just had a little karaoke session, with my headphones on, singing along at the top of my voice). As I watched the following video, I was struck by how sexy Meatloaf was – must be my age! Here’s a little treat to brighten up your day too; you might be surprised.
And although I can still remember every word of every song I ever loved, I have now lost the urge to learn the words to new songs, perhaps as my memory is already full, and there is little room for anything else. A bit like the memory on my phone, I have to go back and delete less important photographs each time I want to take a new one. There are a few songs I wouldn’t mind deleting, perhaps the hymns and the complete works of S Club.
My two older kids work in pubs and are going back to work this week. H went in yesterday for a ten hour shift and was exhausted. He said it was fine, although very different. The low point was cleaning up after an overenthusiastic middle aged man who was sick on the stairs. It still doesn’t trump my all time low, washing tramp poo off the window when I worked for Yorkshire Bank in the 90’s. However, I think it's fair to say he earned his wages. This week he also cleared out his Uni house and we ferried boxes and bags full of his worldly goods, which are now spilling out of his room onto the landing, making everyone cross. He also brought this funny little man home, who keeps popping up when we least expect him to, and making us all jump. I hid him in L's bed the other day, so that he was lying with only his head visible above the covers, making her scream in fright when she arrived home from school. Evil!
T also has a new job, sorting parcels in a warehouse. She often starts at 3am, although the shift patterns seem to fluctuate according to the mood of the temp agency. She has to wear toe capped boots and a hi vis jacket, and a facemask when she feels like it.
Family life feels similar to how it was in the 1970’s, before people started rushing about and the shops weren’t open all day every day. I am making the most of it, as one by one, members of my household are returning to work and school, and I will miss them when they’re gone. Things are very slowly beginning to change again, and I am not sure that I like it. I have missed seeing family and friends, and going to Southwold, but not really much else. Looking back at photographs of this time last year, makes me feel nostalgic. It was a happy time, with weddings and holidays to look forward to. And then my brother died, and the world turned black. The anniversary of his death is fast approaching, and I still can't believe he's gone. I miss him.
On Friday, I went to see my big sister. We had a little walk around her garden, said hello to her chickens, and I admired her roses and hyacinths (she has very green fingers ), and then we sat drinking coffee, watching the tame birds at her feeders. A little robin sat on the fence for a while and I said 'do you think that's Mum?', and she gave me an odd look and said no. She is not one for signs! We lifted our legs up when Henry the tortoise made a run for our feet, and blocked Bluey, her super affectionate staffie each time she tried to jump on our laps. We swapped books and talked about which ones we had enjoyed, and those we hadn't. And we talked and talked until it started to rain, and I had to go home. We chat most weeks on the phone, but there’s no substitute for a proper face to face chinwag.
I am thinking of abandoning the no shampoo crusade, as my hair looks truly rubbish. I have a hair appointment for mid August, and have many big decisions to make before them. As well as giving up using shampoo and conditioner, I have also stopped using shower gel. A small nod to the environment (baby steps) as I felt that we were getting through too much. And I have a mountain of soap, which I have been keeping in my knicker drawer or linen cupboard to make it all smell good. I began Lockdown with a massive bar of lavender soap, which was a joy to use and I have now cracked open a box of quince scented Cath Kidston soaps, a gift from my old friend Mary Poppins. It smells so beautiful, and I have forgotten why I ever stopped using soap in the first place. The kids still like shower gel, but I might try to convert them too.
I am still running but seem to be getting slower, and I am not sure whether it is due to warmer weather, or increasing body weight, which is bad. I am still trying to distract myself by listening to audio books as I run, but it is not always easy to get the right mix. I need to find a book which will hold my attention, to distract my brain which is still constantly telling me that I am not going to make it. But also one which is not too heavy, and where it doesn’t matter if I miss bits due to noisy traffic or drivers asking for directions. I’ve made lots of new friends on my morning runs, among them a lovely lady runner called Lita, who stopped me as I passed her the other day (to clarify, we were running in opposite directions; I rarely get the opportunity to overtake). She gave me an angel charm she had made, to keep me safe on my runs. What a kind thing to do. I have attached it to my bum bag (sorry fanny pack), and am now unstoppable!
A good friend recently invited to join a Facebook group. It's called ‘Frenchic Fan Forum’, and it's for a brand of fabulous paint, offering lots of advice, support and amazing ideas for upcycling. The fans are crazy - painting glass panels of conservatories, caravans, inside and out, UPVC front doors and windows, Little Tykes cars and playhouses and concrete paving slabs, just for starters. I am especially interested in the gin cabinets - old china cabinets given a new lease of life, painted, with added twinkly lights and beautiful wallpaper. I have my Mum's old glass cabinet, which appears in its original form in this very old photo of me on the sofa, looking like a small sleeping pig. The cabinet is now in my kitchen (visible in the background of the picture below), and I decorated the inside with Orla Kiely wallpaper. I am seriously considering painting it all a deep blue, with botanical paper inside. I had planned to buy a bigger cabinet, but I don't have room for two. I cannot part with this one, it's worth nothing but is part of my childhood. Mr C has forbidden me from painting it, but I can just hear my Mum saying ‘do what you want with it, I never liked it anyway.’
I have been spending a lot of time online – researching new agents and enjoying Twitter - listening out for opportunities to find out more about publishing and writing. Many authors publicise their blogs or signpost articles or interviews featuring advice and guidance on Twitter, and on a Wednesday lunchtime, a handful of literary agents host a question and answers session, using #askagent I am really enjoying this, getting a little insight into the literary world, and even if I am not doing the asking, I am learning a lot.
I am conscious that the tone of my blog is a little downbeat, and there is another reason for this. The dreaded rejections have started to rattle my inbox. I am still waiting to hear from three (and would be delighted to hear from any of them), but I’ve had a couple of no thankyous and as a result, I am feeling sad and useless, and like it is never going to happen. This is normal, and there are very few writers who don’t experience rejections, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Nevertheless, I am pushing on with plotting the next book (not quite ready to give up just yet), and I am really enjoying that, and keep finding myself drifting off into a different world when I should really be focussing on Mr C and his card tricks, or keeping an eye the traffic as I cross the road.
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