Tuesday, 20 October 2009

Coming Home.

When I started this blog just over a year ago it was because it seemed an ideal, instant way of reaching people with my thoughts and muses on subjects close to my heart. It began with frustration over work issues and developed through into creative experiments, some that worked, some that didn't work and a few that have taken on a life of their own. I virtually met some very good people and have even spoken to a couple of them by phone which has been wonderful. One of those lovely people suggested, after reading through the whole blog, (poor love,) that perhaps I had lost my way. Having started off as myself, (naturally a very funny person, it's true!) the tone had dampened into something more serious, perhaps even sombre.

I have been thinking about this.

This morning I read the latest post on Don Merritt's website which you can find here. http://doniganmerritt.typepad.com/donigan_merritt/ entitled: 'Sage advice from a sage-less writer.'

It's worth reading for many reasons.
  • It's well written and I would expect nothing less from a published writer.
  • The advice is sound and based on years of experience.
  • We have all found ourselves caught one time or another in the trap of trying to be someone other than ourselves when it comes to writing, myself included. Perhaps via flattery or for reasons best known to ourselves we adopt an approach which we tell ourselves feels right, a bit like buying a new pair of shoes that we really want and are willing to ignore blisters in order to wear.

I'm not sure that anything I write now or in the future will outlive me but I take great comfort from Don's final sentence because deep down I'm not too worried. It's been great just to be around and have the chance to chew the fat. If you got any more from my posts other than a smile, then that's a definite bonus.

Friday, 9 October 2009

Phrase for Today.

I have striven not to laugh at human actions, not to weep at them, nor to hate them, but to understand them.
(Baruch Spinoza 1632-77. Dutch philosopher and theologian.)

Thursday, 8 October 2009

Windows and Doors.

We've been busy with home improvement the last week or so. After 18 years of living in a drafty house we have finally succumbed to the modern wonder that is double glazing. Our new front door is the smartest on the street - nay, the Shire, I kid you not. These days it's a pleasure to put the key in the door rather than a foot to it in order to gain access to our small kingdom. The kitchen window actually opens, don't even get me started on the bedroom and condensation is a thing of the past as are rotten flaky sills.

Those good fellows put their backs into it and within a couple of days the only home our family has ever known was transformed. A surgeon's knife could not have done better nipping and tucking to reveal a splendid new face to the world at large making us the envy of the neighbourhood to be sure. A dentist could not be prouder of the whiter than white frames gleaming proudly like newly fixed crowns you can't help but touch and explore. It's a new house without the hassle of moving and yet...

For all the beauty and comfort our recent investment brings, I miss the old front door. I miss the dirty hand prints permanently stuck to the paint which used to be white until we gave up trying to disguise years of frustration over swollen wood which never closed properly except with a good kick. I miss the tut-tutting of the postman as he struggled to push basic envelopes through the booby trapped letter box until we were forced to help the door deliver her unborn mail. I miss turning down the TV to listen to the neighbourhood on a Saturday night because the slightest noise became audible through the rickety panes of glass. But most of all I am sad for all the memories tossed into the back of the tradesman's van such as the very first time we brought our children home as tiny promises of what they would become.

So I guess we had better get busy creating new memories to befit our elevated position in the heady world of modern living; although I think our youngest read my thoughts and made a start by digging her nails into the wet seal around the bathroom window. Wait 'til I get my hands on that girl...