Training for the Race for Life has begun in earnest, and yesterday I ran a mile. Which isn't very far, really, and obviously only a third of the distance I will be running in July, but it marks a fitness milestone. Literally. A year ago, just about, I fell down the stairs and hurt myself pretty badly, and it has taken the better part of this year to get better. For a long while, even walking a reasonable distance was painful, and so was sitting still. It was very dull indeed.
But yesterday I ran round the back streets of Aldeburgh - no iPod, no posh running gear (bar the shoes), Herself's beanie hat on my head - and I ran for a mile, and it was fantastic. The sun was setting, the smartly-dressed old people were coming home from church, and the further I ran the more of Auntie's delicious rhubarb and raspberry crumble I was allowed.
I don't allow myself a small smile of pride very often, but I did yesterday, and it felt good. Now for the next mile...
Monday, 22 February 2010
Friday, 19 February 2010
24. The Rocky Horror Picture Show
The first time I watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show it was like I had been electrocuted. My parents were (relatively) good at keeping my brother and I away from totally inappropriate films and TV shows (although the fact that he and I could recite the whole of Blazing Saddles from very early ages shows that they didn't catch everything), so I was in my mid-teens when RHPS first played out before my innocent little peepers.
I thought it was funny and weird all the way through Time Warp etc - and then Tim Curry appeared and that was it. It was all over. Life would never be the same again.
It's an absurd performance, really, but for me, then, it was the most extraordinary, wonderful, awful thing that I'd ever seen. I didn't know if I was in love or about to be sick. (Bit of both - which is how love feels.) He's strange looking, but completely beautiful. Was he a girl or a boy? Did it matter?
'Have you got any tattoos, Brad? No? Shame. What about you, Janet?' You have to watch it. It's the look he gives her.
It's a very peculiar film, and I've watched it so many times I can't watch it any more. But it occupies a very special place in my heart, and always will.
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
23. Writing dialogue
Writing is hard. Writing a novel is very hard. Writing dialogue is fun.
(Question to self: Why must you ALWAYS make your life as difficult as possible?'
The sentences in between stretches of dialogue are painful, tortuous exercises in psychological hoodwinkery and primary school grammar. I surf the interweb, I stare out of the window, I make up ridiculous blog entries, I put my hair in curlers, I call my mother, I even do sit-ups - rather than write prose. When I'm writing conversations, Tina Fey could walk into the room and I wouldn't notice.
(Comment to self: Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha)
On my prestigious, illustrious Masters course (total published alumni: 1) I was told that my dialogue was excellent, which is the MA version of 'the set dressing was superb.'
(Ha Ha Ha Ha)
If only there was a way to make dialogue the preponderance of the writing, rather than the whatever the opposite of preponderance is. That might be something I could be good at. In the meantime, I'm going to keep going with the novel.
(Sigh)
(Question to self: Why must you ALWAYS make your life as difficult as possible?'
The sentences in between stretches of dialogue are painful, tortuous exercises in psychological hoodwinkery and primary school grammar. I surf the interweb, I stare out of the window, I make up ridiculous blog entries, I put my hair in curlers, I call my mother, I even do sit-ups - rather than write prose. When I'm writing conversations, Tina Fey could walk into the room and I wouldn't notice.
(Comment to self: Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha)
On my prestigious, illustrious Masters course (total published alumni: 1) I was told that my dialogue was excellent, which is the MA version of 'the set dressing was superb.'
(Ha Ha Ha Ha)
If only there was a way to make dialogue the preponderance of the writing, rather than the whatever the opposite of preponderance is. That might be something I could be good at. In the meantime, I'm going to keep going with the novel.
(Sigh)
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
22. Conducting Experiments
When I'm not being an internationally unknown writer, I spend a lot of my time conducting important scientific experiments. To give an example of the world-changing significance of this work, my current experiment seeks to answer the question:
'Is expensive shampoo and conditioner better for your hair than 99p stuff that smells of Play-Doh?'
I haven't applied for funding, yet, but I don't see how they could turn me down.
Other experiments have included:
'If I really focus can I lose 30lbs in weight AND get super fit and look good in my clothes for the first time ever?'
Conclusion: Yes. But not for long. And you'll be so boring while the experiment goes on that nobody will want to know you when you're thin.
'Is it possible to teach yourself to play the piano using only songs recorded by the Pussycat Dolls?'
Conclusion: Only if you are registered deaf. Or aurally challenged, or whatever it's called these days. (This is only slightly exaggerated. It was a John Denver book I found in a charity shop. I think it was for the guitar. Explains a lot.)
'How long will it take my brother to realise that he hasn't seen or heard from me in a while?'
Conclusion: Five months. And counting. (To give him his due, he has mentioned my name to others, so he knows I'm not dead.)
The experiments will continue as I am essentially a woman of considerable factual drive and scientific curiosity. And also, I have no life. When the experiments stop I will either finally have made it, or died. I'll let you know.
'Is expensive shampoo and conditioner better for your hair than 99p stuff that smells of Play-Doh?'
I haven't applied for funding, yet, but I don't see how they could turn me down.
Other experiments have included:
'If I really focus can I lose 30lbs in weight AND get super fit and look good in my clothes for the first time ever?'
Conclusion: Yes. But not for long. And you'll be so boring while the experiment goes on that nobody will want to know you when you're thin.
'Is it possible to teach yourself to play the piano using only songs recorded by the Pussycat Dolls?'
Conclusion: Only if you are registered deaf. Or aurally challenged, or whatever it's called these days. (This is only slightly exaggerated. It was a John Denver book I found in a charity shop. I think it was for the guitar. Explains a lot.)
'How long will it take my brother to realise that he hasn't seen or heard from me in a while?'
Conclusion: Five months. And counting. (To give him his due, he has mentioned my name to others, so he knows I'm not dead.)
The experiments will continue as I am essentially a woman of considerable factual drive and scientific curiosity. And also, I have no life. When the experiments stop I will either finally have made it, or died. I'll let you know.
Monday, 15 February 2010
21. Cancer Research UK's Race for Life
I ran it in 2008, with my friend JT who ran it much faster.
I'm going to run it again this year, in Hyde Park, in July. I'm going to run it faster this time.
It's not only a very good excuse to get in shape and stop being such a lard-butt, it's a genuinely emotional couple of hours. To be surrounded by women of all ages, shapes and sizes, who have either had cancer, or been close to someone with cancer, or just wanted to do something to help fund cancer research, is amazing. To see their families and friends come together to support them, is very moving. To see the pride on their faces when they finish, even if they have mainly walked round yakking to their mates, is amusing, but it's hard not to share that pride.
I have lost friends to cancer, but my experience more recently has been that it can be beaten. I have witnessed the miraculous, life-saving cutting edge of the science, and the daily goodness of the nurses. I have seen the system at its best, and am glad to be able to do even a very small thing to help make sure that every single person who is diagnosed with cancer gets the same care my loved ones got.
Watch out for a sponsorship form - coming round soon!
I'm going to run it again this year, in Hyde Park, in July. I'm going to run it faster this time.
It's not only a very good excuse to get in shape and stop being such a lard-butt, it's a genuinely emotional couple of hours. To be surrounded by women of all ages, shapes and sizes, who have either had cancer, or been close to someone with cancer, or just wanted to do something to help fund cancer research, is amazing. To see their families and friends come together to support them, is very moving. To see the pride on their faces when they finish, even if they have mainly walked round yakking to their mates, is amusing, but it's hard not to share that pride.
I have lost friends to cancer, but my experience more recently has been that it can be beaten. I have witnessed the miraculous, life-saving cutting edge of the science, and the daily goodness of the nurses. I have seen the system at its best, and am glad to be able to do even a very small thing to help make sure that every single person who is diagnosed with cancer gets the same care my loved ones got.
Watch out for a sponsorship form - coming round soon!
Sunday, 14 February 2010
20. Cheesy beans on toast
The absolutely ideal high protein, carb-rich late Friday or Sunday night after the drive out to or home from the beach meal in minutes. Thank you Peter Mountford. The ultimate refinement is cheesy beans on cheese on toast, but Herself only lets me have that if I have been immersed in sea water for some time, or suffered some other kind of weather-based reversal.
Beans in saucepan, heat on, stir, add as much cheese as you think you'll get away with, stir til it melts, add Lea & P and pepper, pour onto toast. Eat. With HP. And a glass of the best red wine you have or, preferably, a glass of champagne. Follow that with more wine, The Bourne Ultimatum and a bar of Galaxy and feel slightly ashamed of your good fortune.
(Apologies for tardy posting. Will Try Harder.)
19. Mr Thomas of Davis & Eason, Faversham
Hello?
Oh, hello Mrs Baker, it's Mr Thomas of Davis and Eason, Market Street, Faversham.
Oh yes. Hello.
Yes Madam. I have now had an opportunity to appraise your unit, and discovered that you have a problem with your reading stack.
Ah. Have I? Right.
Oh yes. But not to worry, I have fitted you a new one and all now seems to be in order.
Great. Tha...
So it's available for collection, at your convenience.
Thank you very much.
You're welcome madam. Good bye.
Bye.
He reminds me of Mr Cayless, primary school headmaster to the stars. He's got pens in his (short-sleeved) shirt pocket. He mends stuff - a CD player in my case, that we are very fond of. He's wonderful.
Oh, hello Mrs Baker, it's Mr Thomas of Davis and Eason, Market Street, Faversham.
Oh yes. Hello.
Yes Madam. I have now had an opportunity to appraise your unit, and discovered that you have a problem with your reading stack.
Ah. Have I? Right.
Oh yes. But not to worry, I have fitted you a new one and all now seems to be in order.
Great. Tha...
So it's available for collection, at your convenience.
Thank you very much.
You're welcome madam. Good bye.
Bye.
He reminds me of Mr Cayless, primary school headmaster to the stars. He's got pens in his (short-sleeved) shirt pocket. He mends stuff - a CD player in my case, that we are very fond of. He's wonderful.
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