Anger is boring!

Round about a year ago I experienced a series of losses each of which would have been incredibly sad on their own, culminating in a "straw that broke the camel's back" thing which tipped me into a period of anxiety and sleeplessness which qualifies as one of the darkest periods of my life.

I won't be dwelling on that or rediscribing what happened, already heard too many times by my endlessly patient and kind friends.

I just want to share that today, I may finally be in sight of the moment I've been striving to reach in the months which have passed since then; a place I've reached in the past, so I know I can, but which has sometimes seemed far far away in the fog of anger, indignation and disappointment; the moment when I remember that I find anger boring.

It's not that I've only been thinking about the "bad" stuff and losing myself in it. This year, I completed my first novel and am not far away from sending it off into the world to seek its fortune; I was a key player (with fantastic colleagues) in organising a Literary Festival which was acclaimed a tremendous success; I managed to have some fun too.

I also kept perspective, remained fully aware that there are plenty of folk in this world dealing with much tougher stuff and I managed to keep noticing the brightness in life.

Anger and righteous indignation are polluting though, sending nasty dark clouds across the landscape of my life. I have so wanted them gone but they have sometimes come unbidden, pushed along by sneaky winds of resentment.

So, today, driving to work, having uttered those words in a conversation with one of my precious mentors yesterday, I realised that yes, yes, I really do find anger boring. That feeling of being stuck, of wanting to bitch and moan and generally not make people's day.

How much better it is to smile and laugh and see the funny side, and think of all the good and positive people and things around me.....and I'm itching to write the first lines of the next novel, my young heroine has been waiting so long for me to share the first part of her story!

It's been too long!

Several times in the past few weeks I have fretted about failing to make time for another post, but I decided in the end not to worry about it.

I've been busy and really shouldn't feel bad about that!

My trip away, to North Wales and then Herefordshire, was lovely in so many ways, catching up with old friends, being spoiled rotten, feeling completely relaxed and refreshed, in spite of tweeking my back on the last day!

The Olympics and now the Paralympics have been so uplifting, even from my humble sofa. I've never been the athletic type but I completely agree with those who say "these should be our role models" - not even necessarily because of their sporting prowess, but their attitude, dedication, discipline, notions which have too often been forgotten in the shallow adulation of minor celebrity in the past few years.

Preparations for Chiplitfest 2013 (I'm co-director along with Emily Carlisle who pens the award winning blog More than just a mother ) are well under way and we're all so excited at the prospect of building an even more amazing festival than our fantastic inaugural event. We have a superb team who are all working extremely hard already to ensure that we deliver beyond expectations on all fronts. Watch out for a link to our new website, due to be launched in a few weeks packed with news to whet your appetites for next year.

Across the summer I've been receiving feedback from folk kind enough to read the first draft of my first novel, so my next task is to embark on a second edit and write a synopsis before setting it on its most perilous adventure yet, to see whether an agent with vision will pick it up and run with it.

Rather than wait and worry I will then embark on my next novel, a partner, another part of the tale. I relish the thought of exploring the opening already so firmly fixed in my thoughts.

First though, a weekend of domesticity, what a good friend used to call "reality tasks", in the house, the garden; oh, and an adult christening, my first. I am intrigued but will save my thoughts on religion and beliefs and faith for a separate post.

Holiday time!

Isn't it great! I am in the middle of a wonderful trip visiting old friends. I don't plan to write much this evening but just wanted to record it here.

I spent the first part of this week in North Wales, there for the first time in eight years, and loved every minute of it. So much to tell you about when I have more time, Llandudno, Llanberis, talking, singing, and so much laughter.

Now I am in south Shropshire, a regular annual jaunt, and will be here until Sunday. A picnic in mid Wales tomorrow before the weather hits.

This time next week I'll be at Cropredy. Only my second year, but what fun to look forward to, whatever the weather! Cropredy - One of the best festivals there are!

When I touch down briefly at home early next week, I will tell more, in the meantime, keep smiling!

Words - the sequel!

Some of you may be wondering whether I discovered what the fuss was about.

Nothing to do with girlie bits after all!

It was that I, a single woman, invited a married man to stay at my house. I am bemused. I've known this guy was married since he got back in touch with me and there has never been any question or suggestion of impropriety at any point, and was inviting him to stay in my daughter's room. What's more I have a lodger. Keep in mind that he was visiting from 3,000 miles away and just flitting through my corner of the universe. I was just being hospitable and trying to save him money.

Double what's more, if I had any nefarious intentions he wouldn't have to wonder or speculate about them.

He accepts his disquiet is old fashioned; I'm trying to decide whether I agree, or whether, in 2012 between 50 somethings, it's just plain odd!

He just needed to tell me what was bothering him.....but I feel myself straying into a topic which belongs in a separate post.

Words!

I actually found myself lost for words today!

Those who know me would probably allow themselves a wry smile for such rare occurrence. 

A friend I have known for a very long time who had arranged to visit me soon during a rare trip to the UK cancelled because something I have said, by text, has unsettled them.

I was completely disconcerted, then baffled, annoyed, indignant and, ultimately, upset. What could I possibly have said to have such a dramatic effect?

It's my experience,as borne out by this incident, that no matter how fluent and clear you think you are being, texts can be an incredibly blunt instrument. Having a package which allows "unlimited" texting, I am free to stick to my guns on avoiding "text speak" - I only use "ty" and never Lol! I like to think of myself as articulate, careful with words, but something I have said to this person has gone horribly wrong.

I am so frustrated! If only this person had chosen to check what I meant, or thought about who I am, they may have recognised how misguided their thinking has been.

How many times in life do people react to something they have imagined and been completely wrong? We all have different levels of "chatter" in our minds at any point in the day,or night, alot of which is doubtless best left unsaid, but how I wish that sometimes folk would pause for a minute and think logically and reasonably before acting. 

I am not pompous enough to exclude myself from this. I have so much internal dialogue going on most of the time that it can be difficult to gather my thoughts! The positive aspect of this is that it saves me arguments, I've had them in my head and don't need to express them aloud. The negative is that it can be a tremendous waste of energy.

So, whatever was this person so bothered by? I am owed an explanation, and have been told I will receive one; in the meantime, I think I've worked it out - a misunderstanding about girly bits, I wonder whether I'm right?

I offered him my daughter's bedroom to sleep in, thinking to save him money, and wondered whether he'd cope with her girly bits, by which I meant all the paraphernalia which a girl in her early twenties likes to have around her. Thinking about it though, I can see how that might be misconstrued. However a bit of common sense would soon dismiss that interpretation, surely?

We both think of ourselves as good with words and still got it wrong. Proof if proof were needed that it's not just what you say but how you think, hear,act, that matters.

Clutter

It's inevitable that when I tidy at home I think about clutter to some degree or other. If you like minimal and simple surroundings it may be a good idea to take a tranquiliser before looking at any pictures of my place, but then do read on, I may not be planning to say exactly what you expect!

I remember making a pal smile the other day when I announced  (in my rather full living room) that I much prefer evolved clutter to its designed cousin. I can tell you the history of every bit and bob (or doodad, I do like that word) and that is my point. It always seems to me that if items have been placed purely because they look good they have the soul of a shop or art gallery rather than a home. Style but little depth.

I'm not saying I'm right, it's just how I feel.

It took me quite a number of years to recognise why I have so much "stuff". I spent my entire childhood on the move...not quite the way true travelers do, but much more than average. I was born overseas and changed school and/or home roughly every two years until my twenties. I was sent to boarding school from 11 to give some semblance of stability but my home base continued to change.

The result, screamingly obvious when the thought crystallised, was that for me home was not a place, it was people and things. I know, when I see certain ornaments or cushions, that I'm home. It's possible that if I was lucky enough to have a big house at some point, it would seem less cluttered than where I am now, but I'm a little sceptical. I'd certainly like the chance to find out!

Those who prefer clearer more spartan surroundings are more than entitled to their preference; I won't judge them on the understanding that they don't judge me!

Cluttered doesn't mean dirty, unless I've been very busy in which case there'll be more dust than there should be. I will not sacrifice interesting times because I need to hoover or dust. I try not to think that an immaculate and sparsely furnished house is a sign of a dull life. Indeed I know for sure it needn't be. 

I like my clutter; there are bits round the edges I can do without, I sorted some papers yesterday and felt good about it, but I won't apologise for the story of my life which I see on my walls and shelves. So, you clean and clear people, let's simply understand that we're all different and that's what makes life so great!...

I find myself wondering whether clutter is a privilege of the wealthy but I don't think it is. Humanity has always liked to surround itself with things - mementos, records, trophies. I'm just doing it my way.

Tantalising Summer

So here we are, the third week of July and so far supposedly the soggiest summer on record, the wettest drout. If we took ourselves back to the beginning of April and the start of the hosepipe bans, we would shout "be careful what you wish for!" from the rooftops.....and I would shout it again now.

I crave blue skies, indeed my ideal life would include a base somewhere in warmer climes, but how long before whispers of "it's too hot, too dry" will be heard floating through the heat haze? Let's hope we have those lovely languid summer days but with a useful amount of rain from time to time while we sleep.

This picture captures a quintessential Oxfordshire summer sky studded with flat bottomed puff ball clouds, guaranteed to make me smile. I do hope the weatherwatchers are right,a  bit of real summer would lift us all. The prospect of long lazy evenings outside with the sunset then under the stars is delicious.

Tonight, the precursor, didn't quite cut it, I scampered home after not much more than half an hour in the too fresh night air armed only with a cotton jacket - well there were other clothes too, just not enough layers! It was good though, to spend even just a short time out on the terrace of one of my favourite watering holes with my daughter and some friends, a taste of things to come? I certainly hope so!

It's Friday night, the rest of the weekend beckons, a barbecue summer is round the corner, the jet stream is moving just in time for the Olumpics, extraordinary!....here's to good times.