tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28835542502805299972024-03-12T23:09:35.153+00:00Ims Fire - the blog formerly known as Imogen's Creative FireA blog about the complicated, frustrating, occasionally very rewarding business of trying to keep going as a creative person, in a world not always friendly towards the creative fire.Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.comBlogger586125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-77333033549947037522017-01-15T23:59:00.001+00:002017-01-15T23:59:51.103+00:00Zombie plot bunnies <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="body hasMarkup">
Are you ever bugged by a baby plot bunny that won’t die, but
that won’t come to life either? A zombie
rabbit, cute as a button and a great idea except for the fact it’s dead, dead,
dead?<br />
<br />
I have these all the time.
If you don’t, I envy you. They
sit at the back of my mind, nibbling their own feet and fixing me with their
sunken-but-glittering eyes from time to time, as if to say “I could be a
fabulous bunny if you just leeet meee liiivvve!” I listen to them, I try to help, but they’re
still undead and I can do nothing for them.<br />
<br />
I’ve had some of them for years. Decades.
Seriously. They are both dead and,
it would seem, simultaneously immortal. The
Muse needs to breathe life into them, not me, and she simply hasn’t. Maybe one day she will. Maybe never.<br />
<br />
One
of the ones I’ve tried several times to bring to life is
an idea about what happens to an uprising against an oppressive regime,
when
their leader and main commanders are massacred at a fake peace
conference. Just two of the senior members of the
uprising escape, both badly injured and rescued by separate groups of
sympathisers. They recover, and find their way back to the remains
of the rebellion. They try to rally the
troops, bring on new commanders, and fight back. But it becomes
apparent that there is now a
mole amongst them; one of the two survivors is in fact a spy. But have
they been turned, or is something
else going on? Are they an inadvertent spy,
carrying some horrible undetectable new kind of implant? And, of
course, which of the two is the mole?
It would be a science fiction story,
quite a gritty one, and I’ve always thought it was a nice idea. The
problem was that there was no plot. I had a situation, I had characters
–
characters I liked – and a dramatic opening with the massacre and the
two
survivors, injured, hidden in two very different refuges. But I then
had absolutely no idea what was going
to happen to them.<br />
<br />
Another plot bunny was inspired by <i>Return of the Jedi</i>, and could be summed up by the single question “What
Emperor worth his salt is without a son and heir?” Star Wars is by no means the only SF universe
to have an evil empire, and anyway, since I planned to make it an original fic,
I’d be inventing my own, wouldn’t I? But
again, it was too incomplete to live. It
had a situation, some characters (who were rather cardboard, since I was only
17 when I dreamed them up), and a few Big Scenes – the Big Fight Scene, the Big
Love Scene and so on. The rest of it was
just the rabbit undead, twitching mouldy nose and all.<br />
<br />
It looks fairly likely now that the new Star Wars trilogy (VII,
VIII and IX) is not going to use “Palpatine has a son and heir” as a plot device.
I was reminded of this plot bunny in
December 2015, when I went to see <i>The
Force Awakens</i>; and at the end of last year, seeing <i>Rogue One</i>, I was reminded of the other plot bunny. And out of the blue today, I’m starting to feel
I could do something about them. Because
if I can mesh the “Son and Heir” and the “Two survivors” stories together, I
might have enough plot from those two conjoined to make something
worth spending time on. <br />
<br />
This cheers me up enormously. The Plot Bunny Undead Are Coming Alive And They Need To Feed!!<br />
<br />
I suppose I ought to review <i>Rogue One</i>, and for that matter some of the other good films and theatre I've seen lately. The quick <i>Rogue One </i>review would be to say "I am now writing fanfic for it". But there's a lot more I could say, and it's late and I'm tired; so I'll do that another day. </div>
</div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-49949931539426065522016-10-31T13:31:00.000+00:002016-10-31T13:31:10.376+00:00Still writing, still alive<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, yet again I look at this and see how long it's been since I wrote a blog post, and feel embarrassed and dilatory and apologetic. I've been putting it off, doing other things, or not infrequently procrastinating other things, and thinking I had nothing useful to say, nothing to review, what's the point, etc etc. <br />
<br />
Why apologetic, though? Why should I feel I'm letting anyone down? If I still have any readers, none of them have been contacting me to say "noticed you haven't blogged lately, how's tricks" or "R U OK?" So I don't think it can be causing any disquiet anywhere. The only person I'm letting down is myself; and that only in so far as that I was taught as a child that I must never, ever, <b>ever</b>, be less than the best, and so if I set myself to do something I must do it not just well, but to standards higher than anyone else's.<br />
<br />
Not really a very helpful rule to inculcate in a young mind, now I think about it. High standards are all very well, but this just leaves you knowing you're never going to be good enough. No matter what. Never. And that is death to creativity.<br />
<br />
So the hell with that. <br />
<br />
I'm okay, I'm keeping fairly busy and already getting enough modelling work to pay my rent, which means my savings will stretch out a lot longer, giving me more time to find more modelling and/or develop other income streams. I'm writing. Some of the writing is going okay, some of it less so, but I'm doing some, fairly steadily. I've recently started once again on the process of submitting to agents. My experiment with self-publishing has proved to me that it needs confident marketing skills and a self-promoting ability that I lack; and I have a reasonable amount of good material these days. What the heck, I'll give it another whirl. <br />
<br />
It's interesting to note, looking through the latest edition of the Writers and Artists' Yearbook, how many agents now accept online submissions. Thank God! It's five or six years since I was last trying to do this submissions lark, and in that time, it's moved from being a tiny minority to being almost all. The minority now are those who'll only accept submissions on paper. This is going to save so much hassle and expense. <br />
<br />
I'm also intrigued to notice that fewer agencies and publishers are stipulating "No SF or fantasy" in their conditions. Presumably this means that SF and F are coming to be considered as a better commercial bet. Perhaps also that there's a scrap less snobbery about the genres. All to the good, anyway. <br />
<br />
I got over getting hurt in the summer (see previous post). I'm still fencing. I go to the cinema, and occasionally to the opera or ballet, but less frequently because money is a more pressing issue than it was a year ago. One of my best friends has moved to the coast and the other has had a baby this year, so I see them when I can; and I'm seeing some of my other closest friends in just under a fortnight. <br />
<br />
So all in all, things aren't too bad. There are moments of depression and struggle, and I have to resort to ignoring the national and international news, or end up crying and helpless with fear. It seems as if the world is in such a mess at the moment. I have to remind myself consciously that it was ever thus; it's just much easier to learn about it than in my parents' or grandparents' day. I do what I can - little things like recycling, not wasting water, always voting; I try to live by my values even when it looks ridiculous or sets me up to feel afraid. Within my own small sphere, I try. <i>Il faut cultiver le jardin.</i><br />
<br />
And then I try to let go and let be, and hold on to hope. Because in times when everywhere one looks there seems to be the same message of "we're all going to the dogs, the world is going to burn, everything's sh*t", I think it's a kind of revolutionary act to refuse the agony and despair, keep taking care of the garden, and insist on hope. Hope, even if one is wrong.<i> </i></div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-61494373189469256262016-08-08T14:13:00.000+01:002016-08-08T14:13:28.655+01:00The delicate art of getting a grip<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When you've had a lot going on, when you've been off-balance, struggling with depression or other emotional issues, when you've had your focus firmly on one goal or one area of life, it can be hard to keep up with commitments. I've neglected this blog for months; I've been focussed elsewhere, and I've been dealing with what we know these days as Stuff.<br />
<br />
It's all pretty complicated and I'm not sure I'm up to giving a detailed account. I met someone, got on really well with them, and thought I'd found a new friend. When they hesitantly and awkwardly almost-asked-me-out a couple of months ago I'm ashamed to say missed the hints, and then I realised, and did my own asking (like a grown-up!). But they couldn't manage the date I suggested, and then things went off the boil slightly as I was about to go away for a fortnight's holiday. Just after I got back from my trip, this person had some private issues from their past come boiling up into the present, and within a couple of weeks had stopped speaking to me completely, and unfriended me on facebook. And I have very little idea of why.<br />
<br />
I am confused, hurt and angry; and I'm also not a little worried for my sometime-friend, who is acting out of character. But since they won't speak to me and have ignored my email, I don't know what else I can do. As the cliché has it, some people come into your life for a reason, and some just for a season. Maybe this was one of those relationships. <br />
<br />
I hate not understanding what went wrong, and I hate the feeling that my trust may have been ill-placed. I don't trust people quickly these days, but this friendship had won my trust, and now I wonder if I was completely mistaken.<br />
<br />
Heavens, I don't think "yes, I'd go out with you on a date, I really like you!" quickly these days, either.<br />
<br />
I'll still be here if they do decide to talk to me at some point. Although the private issues I mentioned were unpleasantly messy and reflected less-than-well on them, my instinct is that my friend is not a monster, just a normal fucked-up human being with a mess they need to deal with. I know that feeling. So yes, I'll still be here. But I won't pursue. They're an adult, if they want me they can come and find me; they know where I can be found.<br />
<br />
The really interesting thing about this relationship (to be thoroughly cynical and self-absorbed) has been the amount I've got out of it, and in such a short time, too. This person could be pretty bracing company; outspoken, determined, challenging, even aggressive at times, and absolutely committed to walking their talk. I had to shake myself out of a lot of familiar patterns, in order just to keep up. It was bracing, but by damn, it did me good.<br />
<br />
I've been in quite a rut, the last few months, and battling with my old invidious enemy, depression. There were weeks when my fencing class was the one bright spell; a couple of hours of focus and excitement and energy, in a life of day after day of grey fear, procrastination and numbed emotions.<br />
This relationship shook me out of that, and whatever else, I am intensely grateful and glad of this. Yes, I've been hurt, and baffled, and pissed-off, by this sudden inexplicable break. But I have been blessed in the friendship nonetheless.<br />
<br />
So now, in the aftermath of having someone I thought was walking with me turn round and walk away without a word of explanation, I'm looking again at my life and trying to get a grip on things. I hope I can maintain the momentum of being braced and energised and shaken up.<br />
<br />
There's been no luck on the conventional job front, so I've now definitely gone back to working as an artists' model for the time being. I'm not sure if I'll manage to make ends meet, but if I don't try it, I won't ever know. I'm registered as self-employed and got a DBS certificate (what used to be known as CRB >sigh< yet another silly name change), and I've begun picking up some bookings.<br />
<br />
I'm also feeling a bit more creative flow, at long last. I've had another little push at trying to get sales and reviews for "The Charcoal Knots"; and I've finished a sequel, which needs to come back from my beta readers and hopefully will then be published. I'm working on the extended version of "Running away with Pausanias" and that's going well. I'm working on some art again, and have finally got round to setting up a facebook page for my art work; you can find that <a href="https://www.facebook.com/imogencharcoalcolour/" target="_blank">here</a> if you're interested. I've brushed-up my proof-reading symbols and started learning how to do indexing, and will be looking for any small freelance jobs of that sort, too. <br />
<br />
So, this is me right now; disappointed in love and friendship, but getting a grip and hoping to make a living as a freelancer. Hoping that creativity and art can gain from the boost in my energy and the jolt in my life. Still writing, still drawing, and of course still fencing.<br />
<br />
Wish me luck.</div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-37287302957067822192016-04-28T13:58:00.000+01:002016-04-28T13:58:43.682+01:00Film reviews and writing news (& newsletters)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Firstly, you will notice there is now a "sign up for the newsletter" whatsit on the sidebar to the left of this. This is specifically for news about my creative writing activities, not for general blog stuff. Do sign-up though, I promise you won't be spammed! Not everything I write is smut, either, so you might even discover something you enjoyed reading...<br />
I'm working on a sequel to "The Charcoal Knots". It's the first time I've ever set-out to do a follow-up to a completed story, and I'm finding it an interesting experience with some distinct challenges. <br />
When I finished "The Charcoal Knots" my sappy romantic streak was sad for my characters, and part of me wanted them to have another chance to make their relationship work, but their story seemed to have come to a natural finishing point. But as it turned out, soon after I began having lurking ideas of how that second chance could come about, and decided there might be a sequel in the offing. Both characters have clearly got some emotional kinks to work through, and some self-acceptance issues to work on; and there's still room for them to explore the other kind of kinks a bit further while they're doing that. <br />
I started working on this story in response to a writing prompt in the form of a photograph (of a well-known actor holding a business card and looking a trifle puzzled). I wrote it with the intention of it being simple, straightforward PWP - "porm without plot" - and nothing more. The characters took control ( that is so weird when that happens but I've got to accept it when it does). They decided it was going to be more than just aimless happy filth, and of course, being characters out of <b>my</b> head, they found through their exploration of a mutual kink that they were kindred spirits, and made a powerful emotional connection. <br />
So it turns out I'm not writing simple smut at all, I'm writing about sexuality and sexual kinks as a means of personal development and a path to increased intimacy.<br />
One of the most classic pieces of writing advice ever is "write what you know". Ahem, well, after years of being single and celibate, that's not entirely what I'm doing. Certainly bondage and femdom have not been part of my life! But I do know the experience of yearning for a closer connection with someone, and realising one has projected one's own needs onto them.<br />
Well, I'll keep writing. I have so many writing projects at the moment, it's ludicrous. And I'm trying, piecemeal and in some confusion, to build a platform as a writer online as well, and trying to market myself; and wishing it all happened a bit faster >heaves small sigh< well, busy is better than bored, heaven knows.<br />
I know impatience doesn't help, it just feeds the voices of self-doubt. Begone, impatience!<br />
I'm also trying to re-establish my former career as an artists' model. It's well over ten years since I was last modelling but I've found it comes back to me as if I last did it a few months ago. It is (though it's an odd metaphor to use in the circumstances!) like riding a bike. The muscles don't forget, it seems. Crossing my fingers for this to be a good move and to build up enough of a practice to be able to pay my bills. <br />
I'm not entirely sure I wasn't misleading myself badly as I tried for all those years to make a career at Kew. Much though I dislike the Fluffy Californian White-Light-Bollix speak of phrases like "live a more authentic life", I do wonder if I hadn't got sidetracked into a completely inauthentic one. So while I still have money to live off, I mean to commit myself properly to trying again to live my way, not the racing-rat way.<br />
It means being broke, of course, but hey, what the heck? I have enough experience of that, goodness knows. I know a few coping tricks.<br />
Secondly, I've had a bit of a movie-wallow lately. This is because I'm trying to relax my brain in the evenings and entering into someone else's story helps me do that.<br /> I had been looking forward to "The Huntsman -
Winter's War" as I do love a good fantasy and a fairy tale reimagined for an adult audience. Unfortunately I thought it was pretty to look at but dreadfully incoherent in script terms. It has some good special
effects, lots of Chris Hemsworth in leather, an outstandingly
nonsensical plot and Nick Frost, Sheridan Smith and Rob Brydon as sarcastic dwarves. There are a
couple of characters who appear to be going to be important, but who
then play no further role (or even get wiped out), and enough plot holes
to bring down a house. Not much else one can say about it. It passed the evening easily enough once I'd switched my brain off. Harmlessly
enter<span class="text_exposed_show">taining twaddle which at least
concludes that even for those who've been trained all their lives never
to love anyone, in the end love will find a way. That's got to be something, right?<br /> "Jane got a gun"
on the other hand I thought was excellent. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">It's had a pretty chequered career en-route to our cinemas, and some of the reviews I've seen were more interested in rehashing this history and licking their lips over it than in the film itself. Particularly galling was the one that referred to the film as "Natalie Portman's vanity project"; grrr! So the male co-author also plays one of the leads (extremely well, I might add, but still...) but it's a personal vanity project for the female lead? Shame on you, reviewer-who-shall-be-nameless. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">"Jane got a gun"</span> boasts very good performances
by all the leads, great New Mexico locations, great photography, a strong script and a
powerful climactic gun-battle in a beseiged farmhouse. It doesn't fudge
the brutality of post-bellum frontier life, but allows its characters to
hold on to their humanity and make credible choices when they do the
right thing. I'm a big fan of Natalie Portman and I thought she was really excellent as the eponymous heroine, </span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">a capable frontierswoman </span>who is formidably strong, morally decent, and refreshingly rounded and vulnerable, while the </span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">ever-watchable </span>Joel Edgerton is terrific as the former fiance she
turns to for help. Noah Emmerich is also very good as Jane's dying husband,
a hard man who has found a modicum of redemption and is allowed the grace of living by it to the end. An almost-unrecognisable Ewan MacGregor has a whale of a time being
utterly vile as the main antagonist. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">Love finds a way here, too, but
grittily and painfully, and with regrets and compromises and losses on
the way. So my advice on this one would be to ignore those sniffy
reviews; this is an intelligent slow-burn western with a marvelous
heroine, and it's well worth seeing.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">That's the two films I saw in the cinema; now on to the ones I saw at home last night.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">"Love comes to the executioner"; good grief, what a weird movie.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">It's <i>almost</i> rather good; but it has a hopelessly rambling shaggy-dog story of a plot, and it never settles on a consistent tone. The leading man seemed a bit non-plussed by things a lot of the time, too. It was if he was channeling Jim Carrey but without having Carrey's unnerving fusion of mania and repressed pain; leaving the poor lad just gurning furiously through too many scenes. The story and the script kept slipping between genres, moving between sick jet-black comedy and light screwball comedy, with occasional forays into "angst-ridden small-town poverty". That interplay of different tones of comedy is ferociously difficult to pull off - even Billy Wilder didn't always manage it - and sadly this doesn't quite get it right. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I was only watching it for one reason, of course. I'm a Renner fan. And Jeremy Renner is very, very good in this. To be honest, he completely unbalances the film; his performance is so real and assertive and raw it's as though he's fallen in through the floor from another, darker, better, more bitter prison movie happening on an upper storey. The "dead man walking" scene made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">So, my verdict on this would be, see it for Renner, but don't expect much of the film itself.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">And finally, because I couldn't get to sleep after that; the 2004 "King Arthur", which popped up as a late-night offering on (I think) Channel 5. Corblimey, what a farrago. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I liked the idea of a movie based on a possible historical basis for the King Arthur story. I love trying to winkle out threads of real history deep in the weave of legend, so this could have been just my cup of tea </span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">(sorry, terrible mixed metaphors there!)</span>. But oh dear; s</span><span class="text_exposed_show">uch fabulous locations, so much money
spent on fake snow, and such a good cast. And what a mess of burnt
porridge at the end of it. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">There were so many things that just didn't work, and so many that looked thrown in for the hell of it. Roman soldiers did not fight with mediaeval broadswords. The Saxons did not invade via Scotland. The withdrawal of the legions was over half a century before the date this story was supposedly set in. I don't think anyone, even the Chinese, had trebuchets in the 5th century. The classic Arthurian names - Lancelot, Gawain and so forth - just don't work taken out of their Romance period and dumped wholesale into the very early Dark Ages. And where the hell did all that tar come from? And where the hell did all the corpses go? And why did they all go to the seaside for the final wedding scene?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">And Keira Knightley's bust seemed to keep changing size, which was a tad bizarre. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">And so on, and so on.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">The very good cast tackled underwritten and cliched roles manfully and womanfully, and they all looked great wearing their improbable mixed-period armour and wielding their </span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">anachronistic weapons</span>. They were paying their mortgages and keeping their kids in shoe leather, and they were all doing a sterling & professional job of it. Thanks to them, it wasn't so bad as to make me give up; but it was not good.</span></div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-43661602893636408932016-04-24T22:36:00.001+01:002016-04-24T22:37:08.128+01:00Wildest dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Re my post yesterday; my inner doubting voices could not have been more
wrong.<br />
<br />
It takes a while to get by public transport from where I live in Chiswick
all the way out to Brunel University. It was raining when I got on my
first bus, and I sat looking out at Ealing, Southal, Hayes and so on and
feeling a kind of resigned calm with just a tinge of excitement. But by
the time I got off the second bus and walked up the road, the sun had come
out. I bumped into Alan, our club armourer (very nice older gent), who
showed me where to go, and in no time I was registering with the judges and
heading into the women's changing room to get my kit on.<br />
<br />
I took longer than I should have done to get changed because I got right the
way to putting on the last item, the metalised over-vest called a lame, before
I realised I'd forgotten to change my bra. Fond though I am of my
favourite Wedgwood-blue embroidered net push-up bra, I do know it's not
suitable for sporting activities (at least, not the kind carried out in a
sports hall). So I had to set-to and strip off again, to exchange it for
the comfortable solidity of a Shock Absorber.<br />
<br />
By the time I got down into the hall we were ready to begin; and I promptly
won my first bout.<br />
<br />
Altogether I fenced nine bouts in the first round, which is handled in
groups called poules; we fought, then swapped round the groups, so that every
fencer fights every other contestent in their poule. Then a ranking is
created from that. I won two and lost seven, but I scored hits in all but
two of the bouts I lost, and twice I only lost by one point. I was
immensely satisfied with this; it was far more than I had hoped to
achieve. That brought us to lunchtime.<br />
<br />
Then after lunch the rankings were posted, and to my astonishment I had been
ranked sixth out of the women. I was through to the quarter
finals. Me. This was beyond my wildest dreams; to quote a favourite movie line,<i> inconceivable</i>...<br />
<br />
Yes, it was just an inter-club friendly match. But it was a competition, and for everyone taking part it felt pretty serious. Including me, astonished beyond belief as I was.<br />
<br />
Quarter finals onwards are played as direct elimination, and I lost to the
ladies' third seed; but I managed to land a few hits even on her, so my honour
is more than satisfied.<br />
<br />
Heck, my honour is in a delighted state of shock. <br />
<br />
I am now home. I'm completely shattered. I'm aching all
over. I have interesting new bruises.<br />
<br />
And I am ludicrously happy.<br />
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Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-81424860136664464012016-04-23T23:08:00.000+01:002016-04-23T23:11:09.628+01:00I must be mad, the voices say...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I can't remember if I've mentioned this here before - since I've been having a bad fit of laxity and not blogging much lately, probably not. Back in January, I took up fencing.<br />
<br />
I'm not very good, I've only won three bouts so far and every week I come home from the club with a new set of bruises. But I'm loving it. So a few weeks ago, in a fit of I-know-not-what kind of insanity, I put my name down for a Novices' Foil competition. It's just a friendly, between London Saxons, the club I've joined, and Brunel University. It's tomorrow.<br />
<br />
I'm now neck-deep in nerves. I have literally never done any kind of sporting contest in my life before. Back in my schooldays I was always one of the last people to be picked for anything - team captains would choose almost anyone else before me. I was overweight and short-sighted and clumsy, I couldn't run and I couldn't throw, hit or catch a ball. I let the side down in PE every single week. When I was finally able to stop doing Games at the age of fifteen, I cut up my PE shirt ceremonially for cleaning rags.<br />
<br />
I realised back in the autumn that I needed to find some way of getting more exercise, and began looking for something I would actually enjoy enough to be motivated to keep it up. Since all the problems with running, throwing etc still persist, and I still cringe at the memory of my competitive streak being crushed by Miss Goldsmith yelling "You're <i>not <b>trying</b></i>!" at me week after week while I tried my bloody damnedest, I looked for something where I wouldn't be part of a team, and would be able to measure against myself. And where I wouldn't need to hit, throw, run, etc.<br />
<br />
Managed most of it. I do have to <b>hit</b>; but a person, not a ball.<br />
<br />
The other club members are friendly, and by taking my shyness firmly in hand each week I have managed to start getting to know some of them a bit. Most of them are much sportier types than me, but they are all very pleasant people, and although I'm not the rugby-going or rugby-playing sort I feel welcomed by those who are, which is a first. And the fencing itself, I love.<br />
<br />
It's hard to explain. It's a whole-body, whole-mind sport. I have to be completely focussed on the moment; I have to be working on technique, posture, balance, speed, strength and agility, and also thinking tactically, and trying to second-guess my opponent's tactics, and respond to what is happening when I have just a split second to see and analyse their moves. Mostly I get it wrong. But every failure teaches me something, and I come away each week totally exhilerated. Exhausted, yes; running in sweat and aching all over. But so happy I'm walking on air.<br />
<br />
So, this contest. All my inner voices are telling me I must have lost my marbles, whatever was I thinking of, etc. I never compete. I never sign-up for anything like this. What on earth possessed me?<br />
<br />
I know they are the voices of nervousness, because I'm doing something new. I know that letting that kind of formless, past-experience-exaggerating anxiety get the better of me is self-defeating and dangerous. I know it isn't madness to have done this. But I'm still terribly tense about it.<br />
<br />
My last bout on Thursday was with a fencer with over a year's more experience than me, and I came within a couple of hits of beating her. She congratulated me at the end of the bout on how much I've improved. It was the best possible encouragement before this contest, and I came away feeling full of light and ready for anything. That is the feeling I need to remember tomorrow.<br />
<br />
I am just a beginner still; I will be knocked out in the first round. But if I can score a few hits and learn something from the experience of competing than I will have achieved more than I've ever done in any sport; I will have taken part in an actual honest-to-god competition. Me, taking part. And that is a victory in itself.<br />
<br />
Wish me luck!</div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-10137434729441533662016-03-31T14:24:00.001+01:002016-04-02T15:16:02.659+01:00Another five-star review for "The Charcoal Knots" on Amazon...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thank you, Amazon shopper Otiselevator, whoever you are, for sharing your thoughts; there's nothing like a good review to warm a writer's heart.<br />
<br />
"<b>Arty S&M, you'll submit to its charms.</b><br />
An all too brief but erotic and intriguing story which left this reader
panting for more. You're significantly raising the bar for other writers
here Imogen and I hope the sequel comes to fruition very soon. By turns
romantic and stimulating it outstrips (no pun intended) a certain
global bondage success story within a few pages. A sexy novella written
by someone with literary ability and knowledge of creative artistry, not
to mention a vivid imagination....whatever next?"<br />
<br /></div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-78334475754834369262016-03-23T19:10:00.000+00:002016-03-23T19:10:24.826+00:00Massive blues today<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I had a job interview yesterday; it went fairly well, there were no really ghastly or tough questions and everyone was friendly. But afterwards as I was coming away, I found myself puzzling, because instead of feeling pretty cheerful about it as I would have expected, I felt really flattened.<br />
<br />
I'd been completely in "interview mode", just fixed on giving it my best shot, remembering all the things you need to remember at an interview, all the nuances, all the subtle things about choice of words, tone of voice and so on. I
went through the whole thing working hard to keep as focussed as possible
and perform to my very best. But slowly as it went on I found myself
starting to feel oddly uncomfortable. <br />
<br />
I couldn't pin it down for a
while, and I wasn't really able to step back mentally and think "Why
doesn't this feel right?" until it was over. It took me some time to sort out why I wasn't happy, because I needed to get right out of that mental space again and look at things more coolly; and so I was a good deal of the way home before I had the first <i>ah-ha</i> moment. Then gradually as I thought
things through I began to see what had been so jarring. <br />
<br />
It would take forever to explain all the little signs I managed to put together; but basically I realised that over the course of the interview there had been a growing number of signs that the role wasn't quite what I'd thought. <br />
<br />
I'd got the idea, from the job description and person specification, that it was a role doing a lot of the things I used to do at Kew, at the level I used to be at, and I know I have the skills and experience for that sort of work. But it turned out to be a different, rather lower-grade job, a basic admin support for two people at the level I used to be at; not only less well-paid but also markedly less responsible, and only using a small proportion of my core skills regularly.<br />
<br />
I'm not quite sure how, but I had misread the job information as saying what I wanted it to say. And I'm not sure how, but it would seem the employers had misread my application in the same way.<br />
<br />
I'm not terribly career-minded; I don't feel slighted at the prospect of not being employed at the same grade I used to be on. But I am concerned that this job might turn out to be a lot less interesting than the description made it sound, and a lot less involving for me. I probably wouldn't have applied if I'd cottoned-on that it was an office junior role, rather than a front-facing customer-focussed sales role. I'm trying to go after jobs that require my core skills, which are heavily based in customer-service, not general basic admin. <br />
<br />
<div dir="ltr" id="yiv0725170509yui_3_16_0_ym18_1_1458754653159_3054">
It was a rather peculiar experience altogether. I
can analyse it till the cows come home (believe me, I'm over-analysing
for England right now) but working out how this maybe happened isn't
helping as much or as quickly as I'd like. I just feel so inept, and terribly
deflated; it's really depressed me to have made such a basic error of
judgement.</div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yiv0725170509yui_3_16_0_ym18_1_1458754653159_3054">
</div>
I hope I don't get offered it now, because I really won't want to accept it if I am. And that thought feels pretty bleak. <br />
<br />
Damn it, something has to come up at some point. Something<b> has</b> to.<br />
<br />
But feeling so low and blue today has left me fighting, suddenly right on the edge of a bout of depression. Damn it all to hell, I don't want to go there. <br />
</div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-38897238688954490952016-03-19T12:41:00.000+00:002016-03-19T12:45:58.493+00:00The Charcoal Knots - I've had my first reviews!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="2pdcl" data-offset-key="8ivmo-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="8ivmo-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="8ivmo-0-0"><span data-text="true">Aaand the first reviews are in: </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="d6s4t-0-0"><span data-text="true">"sooooo good... can't wait to read the rest..."</span></span></div>
</div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="7h2rl-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="7h2rl-0-0"><span data-text="true">"Definitely worth a look if you like safe, sane and consensual bondage with a male sub."</span></span></div>
</div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="e9ldj-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="e9ldj-0-0"><span data-text="true">"Oh my goodness *buy it buy it now*!!"</span></span></div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="d9fs3-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="d9fs3-0-0"><span data-text="true">Okay, so those are comments from readers, not the TLS, but still - positive feedback warms the writer's heart! And there's a really lovely <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Charcoal-Knots-Stardom-success-fulfilment-ebook/dp/B01CZ6U4Q6/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1458019324" target="_blank">comment on Amazon</a> as well: </span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="d9fs3-0-0"><span data-text="true">"</span></span><span data-offset-key="d9fs3-0-0"><span data-text="true">I read this in just over 2 hours, I couldn't put it down. Erotic,
evoking striking imagery, and storytelling at it's finest. You get so
embroiled in Kat's artistic affair with this mystery actor, who's
finally getting to act on his desires, that you truly don't want the
story to end. I was very interested (you'll understand that reference
when you've read it), and can only hope the author finds a way to
continue the tale. The ending certainly leaves you wanting more."</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="d9fs3-0-0"><span data-text="true">Thank you to everyone who's given me feedback! It really cheers me up to read comments like these! I'm not expecting to make money by doing this, but it's a tremendous boost to the self-confidence, knowing that people have read my story and enjoyed it. </span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-33198208552593163682016-03-16T16:11:00.000+00:002016-03-16T16:11:46.727+00:00In which I self-publish (with a lot of help!)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been planning to do this for ages, and I finally got it done. Quite literally; I got a friend to do it for me.<br />
<br />
I had the text, I'd created a cover, it was all ready to go. But the technical side, so often described as "simple" and "intuitive" (one of my least-favourite buzz words!), completely defeated me. Cue the very capable assistance of my good friend the <a href="http://geekinthegambia.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank">DipGeek</a>, who is as technically savvy as I am woefully ignorant of these things. I couldn't have done it without her, so huge thanks are due!<br />
<br />
So what have I published? (for reasons of space I'll refrain from using "had published for me" and similar clumsy constructions from now on). It's this:<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Charcoal-Knots-Stardom-success-fulfilment-ebook/dp/B01CZ6U4Q6/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1458019324">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Charcoal-Knots-Stardom-success-fulfilment-ebook/dp/B01CZ6U4Q6/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1458019324</a><br />
<br />
You may remember that several months ago I was <a href="http://imogenscreativefire.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/strange-thoughts-and-taking-of-plunges.html" target="_blank">wittering on</a> about a couple of writing projects and saying I planned to e-publish them. Well, this is the first of those. It's an erotic novella about an artist seducing an actor. It's available from Amazon.com and on Goodreads, and I even have (because Dip built me one) a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/imogenclaireauthor/" target="_blank">facebook author page</a>. Which you can visit, and like. I'll be posting updates and news there, if I have any that is. <br />
<br />
You'll notice if you check that out that I've published under what one might term a slight pseudonym. All it comes down to it that <i>The Charcoal Knots</i> (formerly known as "If You're Interested") is pure smut, and some of my family are fairly old-fashioned about such things. I'm shielding them, and shielding myself from having to deal with their shock and disapproval, and concern that I'm failing to seek help, and anxiety that in some way it's their fault that I grew up as a woman with sexual thoughts. You know the saying "you pick your fights"? Well, I'm picking my family-stressors. <br />
<br />
I don't expect to make money or get famous from this. It's very likely to sink without trace, like the majority of e-books. It's possible that almost no-one will read it. But if it just sits on my hard drive then it's <b>certain</b> that no-one will read it. If I sell thirty copies I'll make back my costs. Anything more than that is a plus. <br />
<br />
The cover, incidentally, is my own work. Hence the rather amateurish quality of the layout & graphic design. I photographed a drawing in my sketchbook and overlaid the title on it using Microsoft Paint - pretty basic stuff. The text is all my own work as well and all my own proofreading - and three typos have already been flagged up to me. At some point I'll learn how to do a new edition, and eliminate them. But for now, there it is, my book. My dirty book. I am a published pornographer. <br />
<br />
I'd be getting more done in the marketing line right now if I weren't currently battling a horrendous cold. It came on very suddenly and has left me feeling vile. I ache all over and have a hacking cough - I sound like a lifelong smoker at the moment - and I can't think straight.<br />
<br />
If I can get Dip to teach me what to do, I'll follow up on <i>The Charcoal Knots</i> with a few other things. I'm working on a sequel to it, as well. If a few people read and enjoy things I wrote, that will make me very happy. I hope it will make them happy too.</div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-82463803688754466322016-02-18T17:26:00.000+00:002016-02-18T17:26:39.634+00:00Quick catch-up...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It hasn't been a particuarly easy few months, since I got back from Greece. I began serious job-hunting in October, but without success as yet. I've been depressed at how little there is out there that is both interesting and worthwhile, that would also still pay me enough. I've found jobs that pay okay, but are either dire, or involving skills or experience I don't have; and I've found jobs that sounded great, but were only part-time or temporary, or only paid peanuts. But the intersection of "This sounds like a good job" with "I can do all those things" and "I could live on that salary" has proved dismally elusive.<br />
<br />
And I'm not looking for a large salary, by the way! My core skill set, after all, is in customer service, a field we undervalue badly, and given that, I know it's unrealistic to set my hopes high. But I'd like to earn enough to live on. <br />
<br />
I finally have an interview on Monday, anyway, so that's a start. It's a job at Richmond Theatre, which would be great - and getting it would mean I was joining ATG, which could also be great. So cross fingers for me. It'll be good interview experience, anyway.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, my back-up plan was to do lots of writing while I was out of work. But I've been struggling with that; indeed, a lot of the time I've been completely blocked. It's nightmarish when that happens, but I've been there before and I know that all I can do is soldier on and get through it; it always does end, eventually, so it's the soldiering-on that I have to focus on. Just recently, the last couple of weeks, there've been signs of a breakthrough on that front, which is fantastic. I've been re-reading some of the stuff I've written in the last few years and have been pleased to find much of it is better than I remembered. I'm working on some re-writes and using that to coax the Muse into coming back for a longer stay.<br />
<br />
What other news? I turned fifty in December, shock horror. Luckily the birthday itself was fine, but the number is a bit shocking just the same. <br />
<br />
I've lost 25% of my body weight since last March, though, and have now stabilised at just over 12 stone (12 stone 1lb - I can't seem to shift that last little scrap!), and I feel healthier physically than I have done in years. The doctor has even taken me off the diabetes medication for a trial period, to see how I get on with managing the condition just through diet and exercise. <br />
<br />
I took a touch-typing course, and am working rather slowly at trying to improve my speed and accuracy. I'm not great yet, but I'm getting there. Slowly slowly, as my Nana used to say. <br />
<br />
I've also taken up fencing. The sport, not the garden skill. I just finished a beginners' foil course and tonight is my first-ever time with the main club practice session. The idea of walking in this evening and just looking for someone who'll fence a few hits with me is frankly bloody intimidating. But I've started buying the kit, so I really can't back out now. It's tremendous fun, anyway; I'd hate to stop. I never thought I'd find a sport I enjoyed this much - never been a sporty type at all...<br />
<br />
Otherwise, not much is going on. Need to get on with the writing and find a new job. End of update. Ciao!<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-30186169843439501032016-02-16T17:41:00.000+00:002016-02-16T17:41:27.626+00:00This bears repeating...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just posted this on facebook, and glancing over it again I think it bears repeating here. I've just been reading <a href="http://www.newstatesman.com/%E2%80%A6/maybe-you-should-just-be-sing%E2%80%A6" target="_blank">this</a> article and am left full of thoughts and feelings. It hits me hard, as it sums up something I've struggled with a lot
over the years, especially during the last decade since turning forty.<br />
<br />
It's been so long now since I was in a relationship that I can barely
remember what it actually felt like, making those compromises and
sacrifices, and playing that role of tacit care-giver that Laurie Penny
writes about. I'm not sure I was ever much good at it.<br />
<br /> I've spent
years of my life regretting being single, and many sleepless nights
struggling with the "what's wrong with me?" question, trying not to
settle for the easy "they're all bastards" answer since it has always
felt fundamentally false (not to mention mean and petty!).<br />
<br /> I fall
in love regularly just the same, no matter what's wrong with me, no
matter how single I am - sweet gods, I fall in love like a very large
brick dropping off a cliff, I am a heavy-weight sharp-cornered effing
nightmare when I fall in love - but that falling process has been as far
as it has got, for over 20 years now. There has never been a person I
could actually have a real, equal relationship with, when I picked
myself up at the bottom of the cliff.<br />
<br /> Mostly they were long gone. I
think maybe they ran like thunder, seeing a brick about to fall on
them; and can one blame them, if so?<br />
<br /> As time has gone by, and
particularly in my forties, I've come more and more to think "Good
grief, what on earth would I do if I WERE to find an equal partnership -
now, when I am finally myself and have found my own life? Now when I
recognise that for me the experience of 'falling in love' is primarily
one of losing myself and going slightly crazy for a while?" But the
knowledge that I had grown into myself and accepted who I was, which
ought to have filled me with hope and certainty, proved instead to be
deeply depressing, because it made me fear I was no longer fit for love.<br />
<br />
A couple of years ago I began to get to know someone I had known by
sight for several years and had always found tremendously physically
attractive; and to my immense surprise, this person turned out to be
really very interesting. I didn't 'fall in love' straight away as I
have done in the past; the brick of my heart stayed peacefully on top of
the cliff, taking pleasure as usual in the view over the English
Channel. But I began enjoying someone's company simply because it was
always enjoyable; this person was intelligent and articulate, kind and
mature, witty, hard-working, capable, even shared some of my more
esoteric tastes and hobbies and likings. Potentially, then, a good
friend; but an attractive one of the opposite sex.<br />
<br /> They were also
unavailable, and not remotely interested in me as a woman. I knew this
from very early on, and it actually helped a lot, in what was for me a
pretty peculiar experience. Because as I went on getting to know them, I
found myself thinking "IF you had been interested in me and attracted
to me, and IF you had been unattached, I could actually have envisaged
trying to do the drastic amount of restructuring and rebuilding of my
own life that would have been necessary in order to have a relationship
with you." And that idea was a hell of a shock.<br />
<br /> It really was.
Firstly simply because I'd never expected to meet anyone who made me
feel that. Secondly because it brought home to me what the other side
is of that feeling of being 'no longer fit for love' - the fact that I
have grown into myself. I actually no longer saw my <b>self</b> as something I
would willingly set aside for a man. I saw - I see - the possibility
of adjusting my life around a relationship as something I would need to
be seriously rewarded for, where for my entire previous life I had seen
the relationship as a reward in itself.<br />
<br /> Well, so I grew up. About
bally time. I wish I'd been able to achieve this degree of
self-knowledge and self-acceptance thirty years ago. Even twenty. But
better late than never.<br />
<br /> I'm not writing love off. I'm sure I'll
fall off that cliff again in the future. It does have its benefits (for
a start, I write lots of poetry when I'm 'in love' and some of it is
even quite good). I hope I never land on someone and crack their head
open, though.<br />
<br /> And if someone were to come along who was as
thoroughly interesting as the person I wrote about above, the one who
wasn't interested in me, I can imagine contemplating whether I would be
willing to dismantle my life and rebuild it to include them. Now that I
know that's what it would be.<br />
<br /> But for now, I am single, and I am no longer unhappy about it except in jest; and that is a lot.</div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-65888312211633789162015-10-16T16:59:00.003+01:002015-10-16T16:59:59.799+01:00Well, I'm back...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
...but a good deal of the time I wish I were not. My month of travelling in Greece was an extraordinary experience and I would do it all again in an instant.<br />
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<br />
I remind myself that I must be realistic about this. Staying in rent-rooms and small hotels and eating out most of the time wasn't great for my blood sugar. My readings got slowly less good and in the long-term I think my BG levels would probably have slipped badly. The starting point was excellent, so slipping didn't take me into a really terrible level but by the end of week four things were noticeably worse than usual. <br />
<br />
A week after getting back, with my diet completely under my own control again, things are getting back to normal; so no outright damage was done, I think. But I cannot risk burning out any more beta cells, so for that alone I would have had to come back from Greece. Or else settle there permanently, of course. The key problem was not being able to prepare my own food, leading to a diet with a number of things in it I wouldn't normally eat. If I had my own kitchen then that issue wouldn't arise.<br />
<br />
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Moving on every few days was frustrating, too; in every place I went to I wanted to have more time. That's a good kind of negative, of course. Wishing you could get away from somewhere is a miserable state of mind; wishing you had more time does at least leave the possibility of another visit, another time.<br />
<br />
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On a more practical level, I really began to miss having a washing machine. Not every accommodation I stayed had a basin with a plug, and scrubbing your clothes with a bit of hand soap and rinsing them out under a running tap doesn't really seem to get the dirt out. It's been good to have really clean things to wear again.<br />
<br />
But, ye Gods, the places I've visited, the things I've seen! I know what a cliche it is, but my heart is full of memories I'll cherish for the rest of my life. I've climbed the Acrocorinth. I've swum in an ancient harbour beneath a ruined Mycenean citadel. I've drunk from a sacred spring, and watched the new moon rise over the Isle of Pelops. <br />
<br />
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And now I am setting myself the task of trying to write about them in more detail than I did in the blog. The task is a bit daunting but I won't step aside from something just because of that; heavens, one would never get anything done! I don't yet have a "proper" job; I have begun looking since I've been back, but nothing interesting has come up as yet (well, it's only been a week). So I aim to make sure I do something useful with the large amount of free time I have at the moment. Being back from this trip feels pretty depressing; something I looked forward-to for so long, now finished and done, and not to come again. No job, nowhere to go, nothing to do; I must keep depression at bay, and that means work. Which means, write.<br />
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<br />
By damn, though, this country is cold. And damp. And dark. My heart and my bones are missing the brilliant light of Hellas. "Missing" is too pallid a word, indeed; it's a fiercer emotion that that, it's a feeling that wants to cry out in pain and anger, because I have been taken from what had come to feel like my home, and left stranded instead in this chilly place where the sun hides behind rainclouds and the steady wind is icy and blows from the north... <br />
<br />
So now let me write and remember.<br />
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<br /></div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-51986329142838366412015-09-12T22:04:00.001+01:002015-09-12T22:04:09.840+01:00Currently posting as...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If anyone's wondering where I've vanished off to, the answer is Greece. I'm currently to be found here <a href="http://runningawaywithpausanias.blogspot.gr/">http://runningawaywithpausanias.blogspot.gr/</a> and will be blogging there for the next month. Don't forget to come and check it out!</div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-49549697980227081762015-09-05T09:19:00.001+01:002015-09-05T09:19:57.465+01:00Three days, now!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's very close, now; in just three days time I'll be on my way to Heathrow.<br />
<br />
I seem to have managed to be very organised indeed - which is good, don't get me wrong! I was brought up by a chronic worrier and it did rub off, as it was bound to; I don't usually worry about travelling until the last minute, but this is a much longer trip than usual and I did set out quite early on to plan as much as I could well in advance. The upshot of this is that I find I'm going to have to look for things to do, to fill in the time until Tuesday morning, so that I don't end up staring out of the window and brooding.<br />
<br />
There is always the possibility of things happening that I can't control (strikes, bad weather, volcanoes and so on), but I've done my best to plan around everything I <b>can</b>. I think that's as much as one can reasonably expect of oneself. I still need to give myself a pedicure, water my house plants, and pack my bag. That certainly won't take three days; so today I think I might go to the cinema. A good silly movie, or even a bad silly movie, should take my mind off things. <br />
<br />
Thinking of movies, I took three dvds to the British Heart Foundation donation box on Wednesday. Three disappointments. One was "Les Mis", about which I was grumbling a few weeks ago. One was "Star Trek Into Darkness", which was a muddle and lacked all the panache of the first "Star Trek" reboot. And the third was "Midnight in Paris", which could have been terrific and was all the more disappointing because of that.<br />
<br />
I have to admit I'm not a huge Woody Allen fan. I was once; he was very funny about thirty-five years ago. But his films haven't made me chuckle much since "The Purple Rose of Cairo". I'd bought "Midnight in Paris" because a) it was reduced to three quid in a sale, b) it has a tremendous cast, and c) I was really intrigued by the premise. It sounded magical and fantastical; and I do love the magical and fantastical. I didn't really register who it was directed by, I just thought "Time travelling in Paris at the stroke of midnight? Oooh!" and picked it up. <br />
<br />
Well, the cast<b> is</b> tremendous. All the historic characters are stunningly well cast, and they all play their roles - many of them just tiny cameos - with an intensity and seriousness that the thin script doesn't really deserve. Marion Cotillard is luminous and intelligent, as usual, and brings all her quietest subtlety to a part that seems to have been written as a completely empty-headed fantasy. And the historic sections all look fantastic, too. The sets! The costumes! The cars! The locations! Sheer eye-porn. Especially the costumes, crikey yes. <br />
<br />
And the time-travelling premise <b>is</b> magical. But the magic is barely noticed; you have to enter into it imaginatively for yourself, because it's hardly explored at all. In fact<b> nothing</b> is really explored; there's no psychological depth at all, and no emotional depth, much less emotional truth. The hero's one moment of realisation is cringemakingly clunky.<br />
<br />
Then the awfulness of his present-day life is so heavily emphasised it becomes embarrsssing. I've never been one for the comedy of embarrassment; and in this case it embarrassed me for the film-makers. One can see pretty much right from the start that the hero and his fiancee are wildly unsuited to one another; so wildly unsuited that it beggars belief they would ever have reached the point of getting engaged in the first place. The process of their break-up is both obvious and heavy-handed, and one feels not a jot of remorse for them. One is left feeling they were barely directed at all; "Just be a dumb well-meaning guy, and you, dear, just be a shallow bitch; thank you!" The hero's reaction to discovering he can time travel is to gape vacuously once or twice, and then just accept it; he barely even seems excited, much less confused or scared, or stirred in any way. And all he does with this extraordinary opportunity is get drunk a few times and get one person to critique his half-finished novel. <br />
<br />
The whole film smacks of having been scarcely thought about at all, as though the process of writing and filming it had been conducted while deeply engaged with something else. It managed somehow to be both self-indulgent and at the same time terribly<b> </b>thin.<br />
<br />
It could have been so much more, because the idea is a clever one and could have had both heart and soul, if any heart or soul had been shown towards it; and the cast are really very good. If only the script-writer and the director had been bothered to do more than trot through the motions. <br />
<br />
Yes, I know one can end up in deep trouble with time travel stories. But if others have known that, and still gone ahead, and come up with stories that had depth and strength (e.g. "Looper"), then I'm sure a different treatment of this story could have achieved the same thing. <br />
<br />
Such a shame. Well, hopefully it will make a couple of pounds for the BHF. </div>
Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-46791263510038281692015-08-25T14:04:00.000+01:002015-09-05T08:30:01.724+01:00Two weeks to go<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In a fortnight's time I will be sitting on a plane, on my way to Athens.<br />
<br />
I've planned my route and booked almost all my accommodation, and I've sorted out a lot of information on things like bus routes and ferry schedules. I've treated myself to a better camera than the toy one I've been using for the last couple of years, and a new sketchbook. I'm a bit nervous, now the time is getting close. I'm also very excited.<br />
<br />
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I am at something of a crossroads in my life. I’ve
been made redundant, I’ve recently been diagnosed with a life-long and serious medical condition; things I'd been certain of have changed irrevocably. Suddenly my
life has been reshaped, and perforce also seems shorter and more prescribed (and indeed proscribed, too) than I ever imagined it would be. On top of that, in
December of this year I will turn fifty. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
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<br /></div>
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I may never have another opportunity as good
as this to set aside the demands of regular wage-earning, and the expected cautious behaviour of the middle-aged, and risk doing something that excites me and me alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And with my age and my altered health in
mind, the idea of travelling alone, trying to fulfil a challenging project,
becomes a kind of mid-life rite-of-passage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Can I
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<br /></div>
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horizons from now on. <br />
<br />
I want to find out again who I am and what makes my life feel worthwhile. I want to prove to myself that I can still meet a challenge, instead of running away from it and hiding. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The chances are that I am now getting on for 2/3 of the way
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remaining years to be lived with the shutters drawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
Since the Greek government has now quit and called elections for mid-September, I'm going to be travelling during the last stage of the election campaign, and into its aftermath. The BBC are suggesting that polling day will be the 20th, when I'm expecting to be staying on Poros, one of the islands of the Saronic Gulf. So that will be an interesting additional thing going on.<br />
<br />
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So, I’m going on a pilgrimage, at a time of flux in my life,
to visit a country also in flux.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I first
visited Greece 26 years ago, and so much has changed here in that time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The country had just joined the EU when I first went there, and has now
come close to leaving it again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I travelled across Greece in 1989, the drachma was still the
currency, and the years of dictatorship weren't much more than a decade in the
past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it was quite an old-school place in someways. One could get on a local bus and
still find someone in the next seat carrying a pair of live chickens tied together at the feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was still quite common to see elderly people wearing elements of traditional regional costume as
their daily wear. I remember it as an extraordinary shift in atmosphere and pace, after the very deliberate and self-conscious style of Italy.</div>
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A lot has changed since then. Now my beloved Hellas is again in a time of
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Well, when I get there, I'll see what I find. For now, I have the remainder of my planning to do, and there are just two weeks left to do it in. Much of which is already committed to other things (seeing friends, visiting my Mum, doctor's appointments and so on). So I really do need to get on now. </span></div>
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Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-8149293474259758562015-08-15T17:56:00.001+01:002015-08-15T18:09:47.192+01:00Recent films I have seen; or, cultural relativism at the flicks...I've seen several films for the first time lately and looking back I feel they contrasted rather well with one another. Two were on dvd and three were at the cinema.<br />
<br />
They were all, in different ways, very professionally done; slick, highly commercial pieces of work; and they were object lessons in how to do commercial cinema well, and how not to. At least for my money.<br />
<br />
First up was Marvel's "Ant-man". When I saw a trailer for this, a few months ago, I thought it looked pretty cheesy. Even the special effects (which after all would of necessity be central to the storytelling) looked poor. I only agreed to go because my friend Dip the Dipterist wanted to see it (because ants). In the end Dip wasn't feeling very well and I went on my own; and, guess what? - I loved it.<br />
<br />
I gather it has aspects that can be considered highly problematic if you are a fan of the comics on which it's based; in particular, there's a blatant case of fridging of a (of course) female character in order to explain a male character being a prick; and the only black characters are treated as primarily comic relief, despite the fact they are integral to the plot and come up trumps when the shit hits the fan.<br />
<br />
But it did have some pluses to compensate for that. We have an age-appropriate actress playing the female lead, instead of a girl of 20 pretending to be 35 because Hollywood doesn't believe anyone can bear the sight of a woman with a few tiny creases at the corners of her eyes when she smiles. We have a non-hunk hero. We have a step-father figure for the hero's child, who isn't a plot device and who acts with exemplary good sense throughout - and doesn't get bumped-off, humiliated or otherwise shelved at the end. The aforementioned female lead is angry because she has bloody good reason to be, not because she's stuck in a delayed adolescent rebellion - the second film I've seen this year (after "Mad Max; Fury Road") that accepts the idea that women are entitled to be angry if they are treated shittily. Plus, the special effects are actually fine, and I gather that the ants are pretty accurate from a biology point of view.<br />
<br />
And it's good fun. Where recent Marvel films have been getting pretty dark and bleak, this returns suddenly to the warmth and lightness of spirit of "Guardians of the Galaxy". Darkness and sadness may be more realistic, but sometimes that fairytale of happy endings for the good-of-heart is an incredible relief.<br />
<br />
The next thing I watched was a dvd my mother lent me; "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies." I came to this with really seriously low expectations, having been terribly disappointed by the first two Hobbit films (bloated, messy, self-indulgent and poorly-scripted). It was even worse than I feared; which is almost an achievement. If you felt the first two were bloated, messy, etc, this one is far, far more so.<br />
<br />
It's such a shame. Martin Freeman is a tremendous Bilbo, and most of the rest of the cast are also good-to-excellent (with the exception of a few bits of stupid stunt casting). It all looks great. But the padding-out of the plot is ludicrous, there's a pointless romantic sub-plot shoe-horned in for Kili (or was it Fili? - I never could tell them apart - handsome Aidan Turner rather than the other slightly-gormless chap), and on the rare occasions when the dialogue is the original Tolkien rather than invented new stuff, it sticks out like real butter in a plate of bread-and marg, because it suddenly has the ring of Middle Earth in every word, instead of the ring of modern English in pretentious vintage clothes. Please excuse the bad mixed metaphor there.<br />
<br />
With the exception of those few lines of real Tolkien, about the only good thing you can say about the script is that they had just enough nerve not to bottle-out of killing Thorin, Fili and Kili.<br />
<br />
Oh well, never mind. Glad I hadn't forked out to see that in the cinema, though.<br />
<br />
Forking out for films is a thing of the past for the next twelve months, anyway, since I've just joined the Cineworld Unlimited scheme. And my next two movies were both seen on my new Unlimited card.<br />
<br />
"Jurassic World" does exactly what it says on the tin. Fabulous special effects, loads of smashing dinosaurs smashing stuff smashingly, and Chris Pratt on a motorbike. Oh, and the T Rex gets to win the day <i>and</i> save the day (well, kind-of); the closing shot is his triumphant roar over his regained kingdom. I suspect the science is wince-making if you know anything about genetics. But for an enjoyable evening at the flicks, with a straightforwardly exciting plot and a few squeal-moments, this would take some beating. Ever so much fun.<br />
<br />
That was followed by the new Mission Impossible film, "Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation". It's a silly title, but nobody's perfect. This also did exactly what it should; daft plot, stupidly great stunts, terrific action sequences, lots of Simon Pegg, and the good guys win in the end. There's a tremendous sequence filmed in the Viennastaatsoper and set to a soundtrack of long chunks of "Turandot", which I'm pretty sure came in the right order and were sung by real singers. Even in a franchise famous for its exciting theme tune, a slab of full-on Puccini adds instant drama. <br />
<br />
There wasn't enough Agent Brandt (but then I would say that, wouldn't I?!) and though he was pleasantly sarcastic and wry in what screen-time he did get, he didn't have much real action; someone seems to have decided to relegate the character to a desk job. Doesn't seem fair, if you ask me. On the other hand, we got the first really interesting heroine the MI films have given us; Rebecca Ferguson's bold and capable Ilsa Faust. Who had agency and motivation, wasn't used as a love-interest, saved the day repeatedly and was generally utterly cool. Ms Ferguson is also stunningly beautiful, incidentally; but with the beauty of an athlete rather than a supermodel. <i>Douze points</i> for the MI series for that.<br />
<br />
And finally, the second film I saw on dvd; "Les Miserables". Oh dear.<br />
<br />
Unlike the Hobbit, I was really looking forward to this. It's taken from one of the most famous and succesful modern stage musicals. It had rave reviews and rave word-of-mouth. It was praised as "sheer heaven" and seemed to satisfy everyone from the most arty to the most populist of critics. It had a great cast. Where could it possibly go wrong?<br />
<br />
Okay; the cast are indeed mostly great, though I remain mystified by the attraction of Eddie Redmayne. Ann Hathaway deserved her Oscar; she's heart-rendingly good and doesn't milk a role that could have been one solid wallow of self-indulgence. And it looks really good (with the exception of the blank Mr Redmayne); the sets and costumes are uniformly splendid. I did get a bit tired of all the tight close-ups of singing people with their mouths open showing off their theatrically-blackened teeth, but that's a minor detail.<br />
<br />
But for my money there's one big problem with "Les Mis"; the music is rubbish.<br />
<br />
If someone wanted to write an opera, but didn't know how, and was too self-confident to ask for help, but also couldn't bear to just not do it, this is the kind of thing they might write. It's sung-through, but most of the time the vocal lines cling nervously to a tiny range of safe notes; and the orchestration is almost all solid movie-score string-heavy stodge. There are a couple of Big Numbers, with actual outright melodies. There are a few of what one might call <b>Small</b> Numbers, with a <i>bit</i> of melody, carefully confined within that safe-note zone. And there is tons, and tons, and <i>tons</i>, of recitative. Extremely dull recitative. They all chunter on and on, up and down on two notes, for hour after hour. Even one of the supposed Big Numbers is actually almost all sung on just two notes.<br />
<br />
It's some of the most boring music I've heard in years. Pity, that. Seeing it a few days after "MI:RN" with all that Puccini only served to emphasise how dull and flat and tumty-tum-y it was.<br />
<br />
Well, as I said at the start of this post, they were all commercial films. But I find it interesting that the one which was nearest to being considered Serious Cinema, which was most praised, and least mainstream in subject, which was un-pop enough to please even "serious" critics, was for my money the most disappointing. "Les Mis" had major pretentions to be Real Art; but it was fundamentally dull, and most of the big "emotional" moments left me feeling cheaply manipulated. "Ant-man", "Jurassic World" and "MI:RN" all of them made no great claims to be art, and no great claims to have the right to make us cry. They set out to entertain and thrill, and they achieved it. Two of them even managed to slip in a tiny amount of genre subversion (okay, maybe 15% subversion maximum; but that's still more than one expects). And they were highly enjoyable when the would-be Serious Real Art was basically not.<br />
<br />
I can't really draw any profound conclusions from this; except to say, I am not ashamed of my eclectic tastes, or of liking things that are "low" culture and not liking something that is "high" culture (or at least, in cultural snobbery terms, very much higher than Mission Impossible). I like what I like and that's all there is to it. Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-35377665204490819742015-08-10T17:05:00.000+01:002015-08-10T17:05:30.092+01:00...if not quite to square one...I've been writing on and off about this plan to go travelling in Greece this coming September, taking my lead from Pausanias and visiting places he writes about to draw or paint them as they are today. I just made a list of the places I'd like to visit, that seem moderately reachable (& in some cases, that have been identified with reasonable certainty - not every ancient site is as confidently known as Mycenae, say). <br />
<br />
That is to say, a list of sites in Athens, Attica, Boiotia, Phokis, and Corinth and the Argolid. I had already accepted I'd need to forget about the whole of Etolia-Akarnania and the whole of the rest of the Peloponnese - Achaia and Elis, Arkadia, Messinia and Lakonia - until another trip. But I'd an idea I could cover the rest in one month.<br />
<br />
It came to 54 sites. Oh bugger.<br />
<br />
Allowing one day per site, plus several travelling days to move between regions and between regional bases, that would mean around 60 days' worth of touring. And that's without allowing myself so much as a single day to forget being intelligent and cultured, and just go and lie on a beach or sit under a pine tree by the sea and enjoy the view. <br />
<br />
I don't think I'm up for 60 days solid of history without a break. It could start to feel like a chore instead of an adventure. And on top of that, my travel insurance only covers me for a maximum of 31 days.<br />
<br />
So I need to rethink my plans. It's back to square one; or at least, back several squares. This is why planning is so important! I need to book my plane tickets fairly soon, and at least some of my accommodation. So I need to have this planning stage sorted out. Which means I do need a clear itinerary.<br />
<br />
So, I must narrow my focus. Do I start in Athens and then head for Corinth and the Argolid? Or do I start in Athens and then head west through Boiotia and into Phokis?<br />
<br />
I would dearly love to see Delphi again. But the Argolid is so packed with things worth seeing; and I've only ever paid the most sketchy visit to Corinth, and I've never climbed the Acrocorinth, or been to Isthmia or Sikyon... Yes, on balance I'm starting to think the logical way to limit myself is to take just that little corner. A few days in Athens to start with, then cross the Isthmus and base myself in Argos or Nafplio for the remainder of the time. Then back to Athens in early October for a last day or two, and home.<br />
<br />
I can have a city break in Athens in November, maybe. Or at my birthday. <br />
<br />
I can do another region in the spring.<br />
<br />
I don't want to skimp, that's the thing. When I went to Greece for the first time, I skimped. I knew there wasn't time to see everything, and I knew I'd never be happy just doing the main "circuit" and ticking those famous boxes; Mycenae, check, Epidaurus, check, Parthenon, check. I tried to fit in more, in the areas I'd picked out; and I still ended up skimping and leaving out places that sounded interesting. <br />
<br />
The problem is, almost anywhere can be intersting, if you look at it the right way. The world is so full of fascination, the moment you start to go beyond the obvious. There's always <b>so much more to see</b>.<br />
<br />
For example, I don't want to miss out Boiotia altogether this time. Twenty-six years ago, I went straight through the whole of Boiotia and eastern Phokis on a bus (in the pouring rain!) to Delphi, and ended up staying there for over a week because there was so much to do and see. I spent three days "doing" the site of Delphi itself, then I went to Amphissa, to Arahova, and to Itea twice (admittedly the second of those days was in order to spend a day at the beach) and I had an amazing day hiking up into the foothills of Mount Parnassos. And I wasn't stopping to draw, then; I was just seeing the sights and taking it all in.<br />
<br />
I want to do things differently; properly. If a job's worth doing, it'sworth doing well,as my late father liked to say. If that means concentrating more carefully on a smaller area, well, okay, let's re-do the plan and do it that way.<br />
<br />
Though maybe I'll tuck in a quick pilgrimage to Delphi, right at the end of the trip. It was a magical place. <br />
<br />Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-13061314814212775362015-08-09T13:35:00.002+01:002015-08-09T13:35:48.745+01:00Strange thoughts and the taking of plungesIt's a strange state. I have a lot going on, and yet none of it is really going on yet; it's all planning and sorting out, and wondering, and decision-making. I feel a bit in limbo.<br />
<br />
I was bound to feel in limbo in the circumstances. I mustn't let it get to me, that would just be plain silly.<br />
<br />
I've got two major writing projects nearing completion at the moment. "If you're interested..." is (there's no way to sugar-coat this) pure smut. It's actually gone quite well, though, and I've had some good feedback on it so far from dedicated smut-readers (i.e. smutty-fan-fic-readers). But it is original fiction, not fan-fic. It's too short to count as a novel; it currently stands at about 26,000 words with maybe another 5000 to go. Snce erotica is no longer <i>quite</i> the shameful secret it once was, particularly in online publishing, I'm thinking of e-publishing this as a free-standing erotic novella. I can draw the cover image myself (one of the protagonists is an artist, so a drawing is highly appropriate). I'm seriously thinking this might be the one to take the plunge with. Sooner or later I'm going to have to e-publish something. At least I know erotic fiction has an existing readership.<br />
<br />
Then I've also been working for over a year now on a long project, with the working title "The Healers". More filth, I'm afraid, but in this case the sex scenes are part of a real narrative; a fantasy slightly-alternative-universe Western, set in 1880s Kansas and Missouri. <br />
<br />
I'd had the basic premise on my mental back burner for about fifteen years; but it didn't take off until I got a clearer picture of my male protagonist. Once he had appeared in (out of?) my head, as well as the female lead, who had always been there, things finally got going. It's written from the man's point of view, which isn't something I'd ever felt up to trying before. I'm not sure how well he stands up as a male pov, but it's been a thoroughly enjoyable challenge writing him.<br />
<br />
This is now a fairly mammoth piece of work, though; currently at some 130,000 words and not yet finished. I think it's going to be easily 140,000 before I can wrap it up, and possibly more. <br />
<br />
There are a couple of scenes that got left out, earlier on, in an attempt to shorten the story when I realised how long it was getting. And there's a subsidiary character who gets very short shrift, who I would have liked to develop more. It could easily grow to 150,000 words if I let myself expand his elements of the story, and insert the scenes I've cut.<br />
<br />
So I'm starting to think, maybe I should split this into two regular-sized novels on the 70 - 80,000 word scale. And then, since this is also original fiction, maybe they can go the e-publishing route as well.<br />
<br />
If I do that, the first one will be called "The Healer" and the second one possibly "The Southern boy".<br />
<br />
I do need to do a few other things with regard to this publishing project. I need to find out <b>how</b> to self-publish online, and sort out if there are any skills involved that I don't have (e.g. I'm hoping you don't need to do any HTML!). I need to get those cover images done, I need to get them scanned, and I need to see if I can lay them out easily as cover designs myself (or find someone else to, someone who knows what they're doing but will accept only getting a small fee for the commission because I can't afford to pay much). <br />
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Then, I need to revise and proof-read my manuscripts to within an inch of their lives. <br />
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I also need to decide if I risk publishing under my own name, or find a pseudonym. <br />
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And, of course, I need to actually do it! After all, there does come a point when all the preparing and polishing can slip into procrastination. I'm not at that point yet, I know; both of the stories are unfinished, covers undrawn, technical know-how unlearnt. But that doesn't mean the procrastination point doesn't exist. I need to be alert to whether I've hit it yet.<br />
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At the moment I'm at an earlier procrastination point, where one looks at everything still to be done and gets nervous, and ends up not doing any of it. This is really not a good idea (understatement) and is something I need to beat. Example; I have just cleaned the bathroom this morning, not a favourite job by any means, instead of writing. Bah! I <b>love</b> writing; but it's a torment sometimes as well. And I am a chicken sometimes.<br />
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On top of this, there's the September project. Running away with Pausanias. I need to decide whether to do that in this blog, or set up a new blog for it; if I choose the latter, I need to set that new one up and have it all ready to go. I need to get a camera with which I can take decent close-up pictures that are in proper sharp focus. I need to know if I'll be taking this laptop (Tinkerbell) or whether the larger and more comfortable, but heavier, Frankentop is coming back anytime soon. <br />
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I need to decide where I am going, and plan my routes. I need to sort out all the practicalities. It's quite a big thing to be planning, after all; a whole month abroad. <br />
<br />
At the moment, it looks as though I could get a pretty good price on daytime flights from Heathrow to Athens with Aegean Airways if I book soon. I've never flown with them, but all I ask of an airline is to get my and my luggage to my destination; I don't mind if it isn't in luxury! So I need to pick my dates and commit to that, fairly soon. <br />
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Once that's done, I will have passed the point of no return. Which is another strange thought. I've always been a fairly risk-averse person and now I'm planning to do something that excites me but is also risky. I'm looking some of my fears in the face. It's okay, I know I can do it; but it still feels strange. I realise with sadness that I've spent much of my life not facing these particular fears because I've had a good solid excuse not to do so. The excuse is gone, for now at least. I can no longer say "I don't have the time" or "I've no money". I need to walk my talk. <br />
<br />
So I have a lot of stuff to do, and several quite significant plunges to take. Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-52814881365612887332015-07-29T14:32:00.000+01:002015-07-29T14:51:28.982+01:00New cookery and recipe blogI took the plunge this week; the first plunge, anyway. Hopefully there will be others to come.<br />
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Plunge number 1 is this; I've started a recipe blog. If you're interested you can find it here: <a href="http://freefromfoodwithimsfire.blogspot.co.uk/">http://freefromfoodwithimsfire.blogspot.co.uk/</a><br />
<br />Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-4757459251343023752015-07-26T18:20:00.000+01:002015-07-29T14:32:57.888+01:00The first month, and the future I've been unemployed for four weeks now, and I have to admit, it could get addictive! It's probably a good thing I will need to get a new job eventually; I could very easily slip into just relaxing and enjoying having my time to myself. I could very easily get incorrigeably lazy.<br />
<br />
I had promised myself I would take a month off completely, once I finished at work. I've kept that promise and I have indeed been thoroughly lazy for almost the whole of July. I've read masses, I've gone for walks and bike rides, I've had lunch with friends; I've had a week on a beach in Kefalonia doing absolutely b*gger all but read and swim; I've been to the cinema and to stay with my mother, and I've done some sensible jobs like sorting out all my mending and sewing jobs and getting started on some of them. I've also had several medical appointments; a blood test, another session of cryotherapy which I think (cross fingers) has finally killed my bloody verruca, and a retinal screening, which was fairly horrible (dilating eye drops, ugh).<br />
<br />
Next week I'm going to the cinema again and to Covent Garden to see Carlos Acosta and Co. in action, and then down to Brighton for a girls' weekend with the lovely LadyK, Snoozie and Sammy J.<br />
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I haven't done any job-hunting at all. I haven't even thought about working on my CV.<br />
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I wanted to give my brain a chance to flush out all the tension and anxiety and grief about losing my job; I wanted just to sit empty for a while with the air blowing through me. Sorry about the slightly weird metaphors!<br />
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My blood test results were excellent, which was enormously cheering. I've managed to pull my haemoglobin A1C reading down from 58 to 35 (normal is anything under 45, if I remember correctly). HBA1C is a kind of average measure of your blood glucose levels for the previous three months, so this is very good news as it means I have kept my BG normal consistently for the whole of that time. My blood pressure is back from being rather high to being distinctly on the low side, and my weight loss is now official; from 226lbs to 190lbs, 2 1/2 stone lost. The doctor reduced my medication and said "Well done, keep it up!" and I came out of my appointment feeling hugely cheered. I'm doing the right things.<br />
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Of course, it's the keeping it up part that may be a problem. I don't want to let myself slip up and slide into having a few things I probably shouldn't eat, and then a few more... I suppose the price of good health is constant vigilance. Now where have I heard that phrase before?!<br />
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I suspect the reduction in my stress level has helped, too. The last few weeks at Kew were very peculiar; and the last six months had been frankly horrible at times. I miss my colleagues - I miss some of then quite dreadfully - but I don't miss the job or the atmosphere at all.<br />
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At first I was sad about that; sad to have gone, but more precisely sad not even to be missing something that nine months earlier I'd expected to be happily doing for years to come. I'd worked hard and been completely committed to the place for more than ten years. In particular, I'd been very proud of what Paul and I achieved in Travel Trade and Group Bookings since we took it over in 2012. It seemed a sorry way to go, not even to want to hang on to a job I'd been good at and enjoyed. But things were the way they were, and that was that.<br />
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Having this break has helped me to move on from that state of affairs, to accept that situation and to let it go.<br />
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I know "Let it go" has become a cliche over the last couple of years, but sometimes it really is good advice. You pick your fights, to offer another cliche; and this fight was one I could only lose. <br />
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So. Onwards and upwards. To infinity and beyond.<br />
<br />
I got enough redundancy money to keep me going for at least a year (more if I'm economical) so I don't plan to rush about trying to get any old job immediately. When I do take another full-time job, I'd like it to be interesting and worthwhile, as Kew was. In the meantime, I'm very unlikely to get another chance like this to stop and take stock before I reach retirement age. So take stock I shall; and maybe I will carry on as before, and maybe I will change direction completely.<br />
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Unlike many people, I have been lucky enough to have some experience of what it's like doing things that are fulfilling to me, instead of merely paying the bills and praying for Friday each week. My five years at art college were ultimately a dead end, since my work was neither commercial enough to earn me a liveable income through sales, nor "Art World"-y enough (i.e. bullsh*tting enough) for me to get gallery interest and commissions and Arts Council grants. But it was a fascinating dead end, one which I will never regret.<br />
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Now I've returned to a passion even older than my love of painting and drawing. For the last few years I've been doing quite a lot of creative writing. I know I could have done far more, if I'd had a) the self-discipline, and b) the time. So - until a really interesting new job arrives, I've decided I'm going to fill in the time by focussing on my writing. I have completed novels I need to revise; and uncompleted ones I need to finish and then revise. I need to have a stab at e-pulishing, too. It may not get me many readers, but any readers is more than the precisely-zero who are looking at the work on my hard drive.<br />
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I've got an idea for a second blog, too, about cookery and diabetes. My diagnosis has really revived my interest in cooking. Maybe some of the diabetic-friendly recipes I've invented would be useful for others; so why not share them?<br />
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And I'm planning to spend September travelling in mainland Greece, and blogging about my travels.<br />
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It's quite scary to actually say that, here in writing where people can see it and hold me to account over it. Now I really do have to go ahead with this crazy idea! But I do want to do this, crazy or not. It's something I've dreamed about for years. The chances of getting another opportunity like this are pretty slim, at least before I'm in my late sixties, by which point I'll be worried about being a bit old for such shenanigans. So now's the time. If not now, when? (Hmm, is that cliche number six?).<br />
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I'm going to take my beaten-up copy of Pausanias' <i>Guide to Greece</i> (the old Penguin translation; I'm no classicist these days!) and travel around and visit some of the places he visited, and draw and/or paint them as they are now, and write about that.<br />
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This will take a bit of planning; and I'd better brush up my rusty Greek, too. It's never been more than basic tourist level, but even that much could be useful if I revised and practised a bit. I need to find out lots about public transport (I don't drive) and plan itineraries, and pick likely spots for overnight or longer stays. I need to sort out a lot of details while still leaving room for the unexpected and the spontaneous. I'd do well to get back into the habit of taking quick sketches on the fly; so I need to carry a sketchpad around with me this month. And I may need to get a better camera - my current options are my Zenit B, which is a tremendous camera but is older than me and, of course, for 35mm film only, and the little toy digital camera I bought about 18 months ago, which is handy and very compact but not terribly good (it can't do a close up to save its digital life, and is really thrown by strong contrasts and by anything white).<br />
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I am a raving Philhellene and have been for as long as I can remember. It's not my place to pass judgement or pontificate on the present situation in Greece (a situation which alarms and saddens me dreadfully, and which I wish I were able to help in some way). But it seems to me oddly fitting that I take myself there now, in such a time of transition in my own life.<br />
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So that's the plan. Which leaves me with plenty to do during August. Watch this space.Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-25814652024649987952015-06-23T20:23:00.000+01:002015-06-23T20:23:08.842+01:00Strange weekIt's very odd to be, as I currently am, in my last week at Kew. For all its peculiarities, for all the stress and pressure it's put me (& many others) under over the years, I have loved working here and have been deeply committed to the place. Up until just a few months ago I honestly thought I'd be here till I retired. The evening of the day I accepted I would have to leave, I cried for hours (all over a very patient friend whose forebearance and loving-kindness I aspire to have one day). It seemed beyond belief; and in many ways it still does now. Yet at the same time, part of me just wants this to be over now.<br />
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This last week is so weird. Each day, when I go out at lunch for a stroll, I know I am saying goodbye. I am losing my connection to these places, these trees and flowers and historic buildings; when next I see them I will just be another visitor, no longer one of their people. I am saying goodbye to little hidden corners, to short-cuts behind the scenes, to all the secret places that have given me refuge and a moment of peace on hectic days. <br />
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And, of course, I am saying goodbye to people. <br />
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Many of my friends have left already (or been made redundant); many others are away on annual leave at the moment. Yet others do not work on Fridays; and still others for various reasons I don't see often to begin with. By now it's very likely I won't see them again before the end of the week. And I finish on Friday.<br />
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I'm trying hard not to get depressed. I'm also trying not to brood over-much about what will happen, going forward, to this venerable place as it struggles to modernise without killing itself. It's simply not my look-out anymore. I have to let go.<br />
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But I look at the big, bountiful shapes of trees, cushiony with foliage, delicate with their many-textures of leaves large and small and bark silken or rough; I smell the perfume drifting down from the lindens as they flower in the midsummer warmth; I see the Rose Garden at last really come into its own, six years after being completely replanted; I talk to people I'm fond of, people I've never told how much I like them; I listen to their sense of humour, I laugh and hear their laughter rolling along with mine. And I miss everything that has been good about Kew.<br />
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I won't miss the stress; I have to be honest about that. I won't miss some of the really arcane and circuitous decision-making practices, either, or the frankly lousy internal comms. I won't miss waiting in fear to see if the next difficult, business-essential round of cuts will hit me. But I will miss the place, I will miss knowing I'm contributing to something of real value in the world, and I will miss the people. <br />
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Well, very soon now my life is my own again, to do with as I will. And who knows what the future holds? Not me.<br />
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My week in Crete, last month, was so blissful and restful that I'm sorely tempted to do it again. There are (unsurprisingly) some very good special offers around at the moment for trips to Greece. I'm sure foreign tourism is too important to the Hellenic economy for them to risk anything impacting on visitors from overseas. I would take cash with me because I always do take cash anyway. And I could be sitting on a terrace somewhere with a good book, with a long swim in the sea already done and a good supper of fish and salad to come, putting all this behind me for a week. I know my few hundred quid of spending money is a microscopic drop in the ocean of the Hellene economic woes, but it would still make a tiny scrap of the difference to the individual restaurants and cafes and shops where I spent it. And I would have sun on my back and pine trees to walk under, the sea to swim in, and xiphias and sinagridha and horiatikisalata to eat and a glass of good wine or two. <br />
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On the which note, it's extremely silly of me, but I'm enormously encouraged to discover that the person in charge of the Greek Government's economic negotiations at the moment is Euclid Tsakalotos. I heard him mentioned on the radio a couple of mornings back and did a double take, and stood in the kitchen with a mouthful of cereal, and a silly grin spreading across my face as I listened. <br />
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A long time ago - a very long time! - I used to deal with him in my then job; he was an economics lecturer at UKC, and I was the economics buyer at the Uiversity bookshop. He was a nice man, always courteous and helpful, and friendly, even to a shopgirl like me (he was also terribly ornamental - I had a dreadful crush on him). I'm very happy he went into politics. The world needs politicians who have some empathy with people who work in dull jobs. I know it's completely idiotic of me, but I do feel reassured now I know that he's working on something so vitally important, for a place I love so much. <br />
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Go well and good luck, sir!Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-82001833942567573482015-05-18T21:30:00.003+01:002015-05-18T21:30:59.720+01:00HolidayI know it's a bit redundant to say this when I haven't posted anything for over a month, but this is just a quick one tosay I am off at crack of dawn for a week's holiday. Going to be slightly different to any holiday I've had in my adult life, as for a change it's important I still stick to my diet, instead of letting myself take a holiday from that as well. But my BG readings have been good, and pretty steady, for the last few weeks, and my weight is much better than it was a couple of months ago. So I'm fairly confident that I can keep healthy in Crete. Yay, Crete! Mountains and sea; and if the forecast I've seen is at all accurate, good, calm weather. I have a sketchbook and a notebook and a couple of novels to read. I have two bathing costumes and plenty of sunscreen. I have healthy snacks for the plane. <br />
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I have pre-flying jitters, too, but although I know how silly that is, they are a regular visitor at this point before any holiday.<br />
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I wish anyone reading this a good week! I'll be back on Tuesday 26th.<br />
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<br />Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-83085380862575501352015-04-15T23:17:00.000+01:002015-04-16T22:23:44.405+01:00A time of changeThis has been a very strange month-and-a-bit.<br />
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In early March I finally accepted voluntary redundancy at work. Paperwork took a while to come through, as the wheels of HR do turn exceeding slow, and consequently the official stuff wasn't actually signed till the end of March. I am now in my notice period and I will be leaving Kew, where I've worked for the last ten years, at the end of June. Ten years is a long chunk of a life. It feels very strange.<br />
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Then a day or two later, feeling I had nothing to lose now, I finally told a chap I've had a roaring crush on for well over a year (& a slight crush on for a lot longer) how I feel. I knew he was in a relationship and wasn't interested in me in that way, and he confirmed that. He was nonetheless incredibly nice about it. If I ever find myself (unlikely but even so) in the position of having to tell someone I like them as a person but-not-in-that-way, I now have a superb example of how to do it; with kindness, compassion, respect and even a sense of humour. I've been rejected before, but always with the unkindness of grave embarrassment, or even with anger and disgust. Never like this; he was just lovely about it. I wouldn't have believed it possible if I hadn't experienced it.<br />
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Of course, the downside of that was that it made me like him even more. It confirmed to me why it is that I've come to like him so very much. He's intelligent and articulate and interesting, yes; but he is also a thoroughly likeable and old-fashionedly good man. Whoever his other half is, they have a good 'un there and I hope they treasure him as much as he deserves.<br />
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Then a few days after that, and no "finally" about this one but a huge shock completely out of the blue, I was diagnosed with diabetes. <br />
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So 2015 is turning out to be a year of change and challenges. I am determined not to be broken down by all the things that are being turned upside down; my committment to Kew, my casual assumption of my own continuing health... I'm on a diet, and have already lost over a stone in weight; I'm on pills that should support what pancreatic function I still have left; and with an end in sight now, my stress levels at work are decreasing. It's all very strange, though, very strange indeed. Things have been taken from me that I had thought were entirely stable, and my world is changed utterly.<br />
<br />
I went to the theatre tonight. I had supper out beforehand (I am working my way through the various Superfood Salad options of the main chain restaurants; to my relief, so far most of them have turned out to be pretty good) and then I went to see <i>The Nether</i>, by Jennifer Haley, which has come into the West End from the Royal Court for a limited run. This was, funnily enough, on the recommendation of my crush; and I can see why, too. What an extraordinary and thought-provoking play, and what a brilliant piece of staging. Although the subject matter is disturbing it's handled with immense delicacy, and it addresses some very powerful and challenging ideas. It's on for just a couple more weeks; if you like an evening out that makes you think, rather than just entertaining you, then I recommend this highly. Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2883554250280529997.post-64716393367936908142015-03-12T22:00:00.000+00:002015-03-12T22:00:08.877+00:00Not a good time<br />
There's a lot going on at the moment, and I'm afraid a lot of it isn't good. It's hard at such times to keep looking towards the light, to remember one's hopes and loves and moments of happiness. It's painfully, shamefully easy to slide into depression. <br />
<br />
I don't want to fall apart and blurt out a great <i>bleurgh </i>of self-pity here, but I'm afraid I am finding my own life pretty hard going just now. And so much of what I see around me in the wider world is hard as well. There have been a lot of goodbyes lately, and a lot of losses. There's been a lot of change, too, and much of that is hard to cope with, and harder to be unshaken by. <br />
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There are moments when one just thinks "My life stinks!" and doesn't see anything wrong with shouting that to the skies; and there are moments when one looks at the things others endure, and the way they are enduring them, with a grace and honesty one can only pray for - and one feels a crushing shame. Shame on me for thinking my pain is of any import, compared to what others must bear. <br />
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Shame doesn't help. Nothing seems to help. Shame leads to guilt, which makes one feel even worse, but doesn't have any lessening effect on the world's woes. Nothing seems to help at all for any of us.<br />
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Still, one endures; one must, after all, even if one cannot do it with selflessness or grace. But as Marge Piercy puts it in one of her poems, "Nothing is won by endurance but endurance."<br />
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I'm just having a bad patch; one of those phases when every day is a struggle. My awareness of how fortunate and privileged I am really, when you look at the grand scale of things, just makes the struggle worse, because it adds a deep self-disgust to the mixture. I have nothing wise to say, nor any profound or even useful thoughts to offer you. There are things I want to say, but I don't seem to have the words for some of them; and other things I will need to say soon, but which I can't say yet. I am tired and I want to cry. The optimism and sense of purpose of my last post, back in January, seem pathetic to me now. <br />
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This is not a good time.<br />
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I've been in places like this before. I know these things pass. I have experiential knowledge of that. <br />
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I wish I were looking around me and seeing hope and love and life and happiness. I wish I were not reading about wildfires destroying homes, good and gifted people dying, other good and gifted people losing their jobs and seeing their careers torn in shreds, racism seemingly becoming more "respectable" by the day, harmless dogs being poisoned, whole communities being oppressed and ignored. Dear Gods, what a world it is, when one looks into all that pain.<br />
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What is one to do, in the face of this? There is so much sorrow and loss, so much cruelty, so much injustice, so much destruction. It feels as though Kali is rising and destroying every well-meaning human heart, terminating every scrap of hope that those hearts had nurtured and clung-to. <br />
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I'm being over-emotional, I know. This agony of mind, this too shall pass. And in the meantime, one <b>does</b> endure. People are tough, and so is the spirit of life. Hope and love and happiness do still exist, even when they are invisible, even when they are absent for a time, even when one sees them taken from the innocent and harmless and thrown on the garbage heap. The spring is still coming round again. Even when the wheel of the year seems to be grinding my face in the mud and breaking my back, it is still turning; and the leaf buds are still swelling, the myrobalans are still coming into blossom. I will come out the other side of this. Eventually.Imogenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12811393485894960485noreply@blogger.com4