oh, gods! tonight, i have sooo much bliss that i hardly know what to do with it.
first: the shower is an EPIC win. and i do mean EPIC. and here's why....
it is soooo hot, i was pink when i emerged and, yes, i could barely see the bathroom door for the steam. this on its own constitutes a big win, and with this, i would be happy, having endured lukewarm to tepid showers for all of this bloody freezing winter.
BUT! the thing that makes it an EPIC win?
it has the most wonderful thing that was ever invented for showers. the head has five (count 'em, five!) settings. one of which is...
a BUBBLE JET!!!
honestly, i have noooo idea what the neighbours thought as the shrieks of unrestrained joy came echoing through the ridiculously thin wall separating our bathroom from theirs....
second: sparkles. i finally have sparkles!
gods in asgard, I HAVE SPARKLES!!!
i was just about to get into the shower, when the phone rang. it was the people from the company that is providing my connection. we established that no, actually, there wasn't a problem with my local telephone exchange, so yes, she could close the fault notification thingy. then she put me through to this "first line technical support" guy. who said he couldn't help, but second line tech support might be able to. so he gave me their number. so i spoke to them. now, i'm missing out all of the time i spent on hold, here, but please bear in mind that this whole process took an hour and a bloody half.
so. this guy says "well, i can't order you a new box yet" (i'm tearing my hair out, by now). "but," he says, "there's one more thing you can try. but you might lose the call, so only do it when the call's ended. if it doesn't work, call us again" (oh, gods, not again, please!), "and we'll send you a new box" (oh, fiiiinally!!!)
"plug one microfilter into the other, then put your phone through one, and your broadband box through the other."
so, expecting another half an hour on hold to call them back, and tell them "no, it still doesn't work, and can i PLEEEEASE hae a new box, now? *whimper*", i did as he suggested.
and bugger me, if things didn't light up like a sodding christmas tree, and sparkles leapt from the box in a shower of glowing internet loveliness.
so now, i am warm, i am clean (and smelling delightfully of a summer bouquet - violets, lavender and orange blossom...heavenly!), i am fed, and i have sparkles.
happy Squeaky. ^_^
Sunday 28 February 2010
Saturday 27 February 2010
whatever works for you
there's been quite a few retweets of this link on the all-conquering twitter just recently. it's an entertaining read, not least because a lot of the writers seem to contradict each other, or there are exceptions cited for each rule, or other discrepancies. now, maybe i didn't read it carefully enough, but it seemed to me that there were few agreements on what you definitely should or should not do to produce good writing, whether novel, short story or shopping list. and it seemed to confirm something i've always felt about creative endeavour in general. everyone is different, everyone creates what they do from, ultimately, the inside of their own head. and the inside of every single person's head is sooo different, there's no way anyone can write hard-and-fast rules that everyone should follow. or maybe that's just the way i write? i'll always look at this sort of thing, if only because, somewhere in there, ther may just be a shining nugget of truth in there, amongst the other stuff (which i won't call dross, 'coz it ain't - just doesn't work for me. "You tell me your truth, and i'll tell you mine"...). seriously, you can take advice until the cows come home, but then you have to filter it through what works for you. try it, of course, but don't be disappointed or surprised if it doesn't. stay open. to incomings and outgiongs both. be prepared to let stuff go if it doesn't work for you. always stay open.
anyway - stating the obvious as usual. sorry
the much-abused isobel is still with the garage. no idea what stage she's at, as she'll be done when she's done, and there's NO WAY ON EARTH that we're going to do anything that could be perceived as putting any kind of pressure on to those that are fixing the hash they made the first time. such as phoning for an update.
*deep breath* *lets it out sowly*
patience, Squeaky, all will be well.
been utterly shattered again this week. the internal alarm clock is still WAY out, (gaah!). also, i've been doing this STUPID thing at work which i just haven't got the energy to rant about and, anyway, why bother? it is a feature of my workplace that some overpaid wanker will be drafted in to "improve the business" (n.b. it's not a business, ok? - that's just crappy management speak), and will reccommend the removal of a working system and replacement of said sysstem by something that...well...doesn't.
oops - rant-avoidance fail. oh well, at least it was only a little one, eh? *grin*
mind you, i've had a very restful day today. no mad typing marathons, and managed to stay in bed and doze until a proper, proper saturday morning time (i.e. 10:30-ish - not managed that for weeks). then, we went out and spent quite a lot of money (retail therapy - yeah!)
to begin with, we bought a new shower,as the one we have is probably 25 - 30 years old, and it's given its all. it is knackered, bolloxed, and utterly, utterly kaput. it is an ex-shower. it's never been exactly red-hot in cold weather, but this winter?
ok, i'm a wuss. i admit it. i love my Lushy showers, but i absolutely draw the line at lukewarm showers in winter. when it's cold outside, i want heat! i want steam, dammit! i want the bathroom to be so full of steam that i can't see the door by the time i've finished!
so - guess what hubby's doing tomorrow?
and guess what i'm doing as soon as he's finished?
oh, gods, i'm sooo looking forward to a properly hot shower. i don't think i've had one since the autumn.
oh, YES!!! damn me, those lovely Lushy things are gonna get some hammer, i can tell you! ^_^
ahem. sorry.
anyway - the other drain on the wallet was a new toy for hubby.
he loves his PS2. he loved his PS as well. but, of course, there's a new one out these days. now, he's quite prepared to wait until his PS2 kicks the bucket before he upgrades, but, well...
see, there's this game that my stepchildren brought round when they came to stay for a couple of days last christmas. now, The Tribe are - or can be - EXTREMELY argumentative, and drive us completely insane with alarming frequency. especially when they are all three together, with us, in our teeny weeny living room. everyone gets under everyone else's feet, and on everyone else's nerves. i don't mind admitting it, i was dreading the christmas visit.
but the game.
the game saved us.
i have never, i mean NEVER, had such fun for such a sustained length of time with all three of 'em. in fourteen years. i swear (frequently, actually, but that's not what i meant), there wasn't a cross word spoken, like, all weekend.
it was like i'd wandered into somebody else's family.
this game was that Beatles Rock Band thingy. there were all the instruments and what have you, and all these songs that are like a part of the fabric of the family (since we are both big fans, we've played them all of the kids' lives - they know them almost as well as we do). and everyone played the instruments, and a jolly good time was had by all.
now, everyone wanted to play the drums (i won't say everyone wanted to be Ringo, because, let's face it - hes a bit of an arse, innit?). but everyone (wait for it...) TOOK TURNS!!!
*faints*
seriously - this just doesn't happen amongst The Tribe (despite the fact that they are 16, 18 and 20).
ever since, hubby has, every now and again, been pretending to play the drums, and (i know the look in his eye) thought wistfully of the day his PS2 finally cacks it and he gets to - with a clear conscience - go spend lots of money on a shiny new console and game.
*sigh*
i've been trying to persuade him that he really doesn't need to wait if he waaannnttssssss it, preciousssssss. and boy, does he want it! so, that was what else we spent lots of money on today. and that's just fine by me.
and now he's repeatedly draping my newly darned self-knitted socks (ah'm sooooo proud of mah old skool skillz!) over my head so i can't see the screen. excuse me whilst i go and explain, pointedly, why he should stop....
anyway - stating the obvious as usual. sorry
the much-abused isobel is still with the garage. no idea what stage she's at, as she'll be done when she's done, and there's NO WAY ON EARTH that we're going to do anything that could be perceived as putting any kind of pressure on to those that are fixing the hash they made the first time. such as phoning for an update.
*deep breath* *lets it out sowly*
patience, Squeaky, all will be well.
been utterly shattered again this week. the internal alarm clock is still WAY out, (gaah!). also, i've been doing this STUPID thing at work which i just haven't got the energy to rant about and, anyway, why bother? it is a feature of my workplace that some overpaid wanker will be drafted in to "improve the business" (n.b. it's not a business, ok? - that's just crappy management speak), and will reccommend the removal of a working system and replacement of said sysstem by something that...well...doesn't.
oops - rant-avoidance fail. oh well, at least it was only a little one, eh? *grin*
mind you, i've had a very restful day today. no mad typing marathons, and managed to stay in bed and doze until a proper, proper saturday morning time (i.e. 10:30-ish - not managed that for weeks). then, we went out and spent quite a lot of money (retail therapy - yeah!)
to begin with, we bought a new shower,as the one we have is probably 25 - 30 years old, and it's given its all. it is knackered, bolloxed, and utterly, utterly kaput. it is an ex-shower. it's never been exactly red-hot in cold weather, but this winter?
ok, i'm a wuss. i admit it. i love my Lushy showers, but i absolutely draw the line at lukewarm showers in winter. when it's cold outside, i want heat! i want steam, dammit! i want the bathroom to be so full of steam that i can't see the door by the time i've finished!
so - guess what hubby's doing tomorrow?
and guess what i'm doing as soon as he's finished?
oh, gods, i'm sooo looking forward to a properly hot shower. i don't think i've had one since the autumn.
oh, YES!!! damn me, those lovely Lushy things are gonna get some hammer, i can tell you! ^_^
ahem. sorry.
anyway - the other drain on the wallet was a new toy for hubby.
he loves his PS2. he loved his PS as well. but, of course, there's a new one out these days. now, he's quite prepared to wait until his PS2 kicks the bucket before he upgrades, but, well...
see, there's this game that my stepchildren brought round when they came to stay for a couple of days last christmas. now, The Tribe are - or can be - EXTREMELY argumentative, and drive us completely insane with alarming frequency. especially when they are all three together, with us, in our teeny weeny living room. everyone gets under everyone else's feet, and on everyone else's nerves. i don't mind admitting it, i was dreading the christmas visit.
but the game.
the game saved us.
i have never, i mean NEVER, had such fun for such a sustained length of time with all three of 'em. in fourteen years. i swear (frequently, actually, but that's not what i meant), there wasn't a cross word spoken, like, all weekend.
it was like i'd wandered into somebody else's family.
this game was that Beatles Rock Band thingy. there were all the instruments and what have you, and all these songs that are like a part of the fabric of the family (since we are both big fans, we've played them all of the kids' lives - they know them almost as well as we do). and everyone played the instruments, and a jolly good time was had by all.
now, everyone wanted to play the drums (i won't say everyone wanted to be Ringo, because, let's face it - hes a bit of an arse, innit?). but everyone (wait for it...) TOOK TURNS!!!
*faints*
seriously - this just doesn't happen amongst The Tribe (despite the fact that they are 16, 18 and 20).
ever since, hubby has, every now and again, been pretending to play the drums, and (i know the look in his eye) thought wistfully of the day his PS2 finally cacks it and he gets to - with a clear conscience - go spend lots of money on a shiny new console and game.
*sigh*
i've been trying to persuade him that he really doesn't need to wait if he waaannnttssssss it, preciousssssss. and boy, does he want it! so, that was what else we spent lots of money on today. and that's just fine by me.
and now he's repeatedly draping my newly darned self-knitted socks (ah'm sooooo proud of mah old skool skillz!) over my head so i can't see the screen. excuse me whilst i go and explain, pointedly, why he should stop....
Friday 19 February 2010
can you say stupid?
i have a colleague named jo. she's lovely, and a fellow writer, too. last backend, she moved to the office in our neighbouring city. not too long after, just before christmas, she decided that she missed us all, and we arranged a night out after work. she came in on the bus,and we all had a lovely time.
a couple of weeks ago, i got an email from her saying that she wanted to repeat the night out.
great. i was excited. i haven't been ot since christmas (we don't get out much), so obviously, i was really looking forward to it.
today, i had a much better day than yesterday, despite yet another crap night's sleep. it is friday. i was happy. work wasn't too much of a pain. i felt good. went back to lush and got a couple more of those delicious bathbombs that i used last night. got an item sorely needed from boots, caught the bus, as usual. headed for home.
alighting from the bus in my home town, i walked on to the market place, and had a small bliss moment, communing with the moon. all still good.
now, normally, hubby is waiting on the market place, waiting to give me a lift home (because if i'm on the bus instead of the motorbike it is, by definition, dark and cold).
hubby wasn't there.
so, yeah, fine, i thought. he's probably been delayed, as he often is on a friday. so i gave him a ring.
"hello, love. where are you?" (expecting: "just coming off the roundabout - i'll be there in a minute")
"i'm at home"
huh?
"How come?"
"because you've gone out."
"uh - what?"
"you've gone out."
so, you see where this is going, right?
i. am. SUCH. a. fuckwit.
really - HE had to tell ME where i was supposed to be.
and STILL it took a few moments to register.
really. sometimes even i can't stand what a spawny-eyed, parrot-faced wazzock i really am.
the worst thing is, it's not an isolated incident.
*sigh*
in other news, apparrently, my shiny new internet connection begins on 25 or 26 of feb. can't come soon enough. i'd do a happydance, but i'm just too despondent with my own unbelievable idiocy at the moment.
other than the moon, a few more small bliss moments happened today, so i'll share these, to try and cheer myself up by reminding said self that i might be irretrievably incompetent at life, but at least i can still appreciate the beauty in the world.
1. a flock of gulls sweeping through derby's morning streets at a height of about 10 - 15 feet. i see them nearly every morning during my walk from the bus stop to work. i always stop to appreciate them. they are beauty itself.
2. deaf people talking at the bus stop, again, beautiful. sign language is the closest thing to dancing you can do when standing still. it's rude to stare, i know, and they must get so sick of people doing so, but it gives me bliss to watch, and i wish i could do it too. i know a few words, and a joke, but that's it. *sigh* another on my long list of languages that i would love to learn,along with - in no particular order - italian, better french, punjabi, and welsh.
3. a beautiful, beautiful cloud. stunning. and i can't seem to post the pic (again!) and i can't be arsed to fiddle with it, now, but it's on my twitpic feed. here's a fun squeaky fact to finish with: i'm a proud member of the cloud appreciation society.
oh, yeah - and if you want to know where the title of this blog comes from, it's a Pink Floyd song, called "learning to fly", that could have been written for me. it is me.
still earthbound, always learning, always trying.
one day, i'll remember how.
a couple of weeks ago, i got an email from her saying that she wanted to repeat the night out.
great. i was excited. i haven't been ot since christmas (we don't get out much), so obviously, i was really looking forward to it.
today, i had a much better day than yesterday, despite yet another crap night's sleep. it is friday. i was happy. work wasn't too much of a pain. i felt good. went back to lush and got a couple more of those delicious bathbombs that i used last night. got an item sorely needed from boots, caught the bus, as usual. headed for home.
alighting from the bus in my home town, i walked on to the market place, and had a small bliss moment, communing with the moon. all still good.
now, normally, hubby is waiting on the market place, waiting to give me a lift home (because if i'm on the bus instead of the motorbike it is, by definition, dark and cold).
hubby wasn't there.
so, yeah, fine, i thought. he's probably been delayed, as he often is on a friday. so i gave him a ring.
"hello, love. where are you?" (expecting: "just coming off the roundabout - i'll be there in a minute")
"i'm at home"
huh?
"How come?"
"because you've gone out."
"uh - what?"
"you've gone out."
so, you see where this is going, right?
i. am. SUCH. a. fuckwit.
really - HE had to tell ME where i was supposed to be.
and STILL it took a few moments to register.
really. sometimes even i can't stand what a spawny-eyed, parrot-faced wazzock i really am.
the worst thing is, it's not an isolated incident.
*sigh*
in other news, apparrently, my shiny new internet connection begins on 25 or 26 of feb. can't come soon enough. i'd do a happydance, but i'm just too despondent with my own unbelievable idiocy at the moment.
other than the moon, a few more small bliss moments happened today, so i'll share these, to try and cheer myself up by reminding said self that i might be irretrievably incompetent at life, but at least i can still appreciate the beauty in the world.
1. a flock of gulls sweeping through derby's morning streets at a height of about 10 - 15 feet. i see them nearly every morning during my walk from the bus stop to work. i always stop to appreciate them. they are beauty itself.
2. deaf people talking at the bus stop, again, beautiful. sign language is the closest thing to dancing you can do when standing still. it's rude to stare, i know, and they must get so sick of people doing so, but it gives me bliss to watch, and i wish i could do it too. i know a few words, and a joke, but that's it. *sigh* another on my long list of languages that i would love to learn,along with - in no particular order - italian, better french, punjabi, and welsh.
3. a beautiful, beautiful cloud. stunning. and i can't seem to post the pic (again!) and i can't be arsed to fiddle with it, now, but it's on my twitpic feed. here's a fun squeaky fact to finish with: i'm a proud member of the cloud appreciation society.
oh, yeah - and if you want to know where the title of this blog comes from, it's a Pink Floyd song, called "learning to fly", that could have been written for me. it is me.
still earthbound, always learning, always trying.
one day, i'll remember how.
Thursday 18 February 2010
smells and sleep and stories
yup - smells.
see, i was going to blog about sleep, and how i don't seem to be getting enough at the moment.
but smells come first at the mo. this evening, i smell of violets and lemons and patchouli. that's because i went to Lush today, to stock up on one or two much-needed items (and, as usual in Lush, one or two that just said "you need me" - whatever they happened to be...) however, the reason i chose to go *today* in particular, is that i had a really shitty afternoon. things just kept on comin', and getting worse and more bloody irritating as they did. by a quarter to four, i'd REALLY had enough. so (and gods bless the joy that is flexi-time!) i called it a day. in a foul mood, i thought i'd head for lush as i had the time for once, and was getting really low on some things.
oh! i am sooo glad i did. the smell in that shop is just...*sigh*...heavenly. and i've noticed before, i immediately feel better when i walk through the door. i.m.m.e.d.i.a.t.e.l.y. and after my bath tonight (with my delicious Space Girl bathbomb and lovely new violet-smelluing Daddy-O shampoo and Sexy Peel soap - guaranteed to make you feel good, just on its own), i feel - MUCH better. almost drunk, in fact. coz, y'know - there's certain times when us girls (through no fault of our own) feel really, really crap (the girls know what i mean, right?). but i've found that smells can help. and at other times, too.
aromatherapy? maybe.
but i think it's a very personal thing. for instance, the most wonderful woman in the world's favourite smell? poplar trees in bloom? it HATES me. i mean, it REALLY hates me. makes my nose feel all crinkly and weird inside. but, then, we're all different, after all. with similar chemicals and cells and stuff washing around inside us, but such vastly different mixes, you might as well compare graphite to diamond. both carbon, but the similarity ends there. same with taste and sight and, well everything. nature is such a wonderful thing. :) oh, yeah, and i was listening to the new album by The Imagined Village, too. also sold in Lush (0.o). to go with the bathbomb - "inspired" by one of the songs. yeah, yeah, yeah. even the organically tree-hugging Lush and TIV aren't above marketing. *grin* and why the hell should they be? everyone's gotta make a living somehow, after all. good album, though. and the song's great! sort of an updated version of "My Mother Said I Never Should..." lovin' Eliza Carthy. just lovin' her. if i could be anny singer/musician/whatever, she's the one.
and now, to sleep. briefly (if i can ever be brief about anything!) my body clock seems to have reset itself to wake up at 5 am. by the gods, it's annoying! by the time i'm just about ready to drop off again, the alarm's due in about 20 minutes! GAAAH!!! hate this. not getting enough sleep. at. all.
this morning, though, i woke up with the germ of a story. dunno if it was a whisp of a dream or what, but it was kind of an image of a set of twins. one magical, the other not. but, the non-magical one is more magical than the magical one, in a way, because everything comes as a quality of her, rather than the magic. or something. that one needs to settle in the silt for a while...grow some roots. along with the vampire, and the incubus and the succubus. this could take years, but i'm happy to have them there, just kind of...barely simmering...i guess. it makes me happy in a tiny but important way.
see, i was going to blog about sleep, and how i don't seem to be getting enough at the moment.
but smells come first at the mo. this evening, i smell of violets and lemons and patchouli. that's because i went to Lush today, to stock up on one or two much-needed items (and, as usual in Lush, one or two that just said "you need me" - whatever they happened to be...) however, the reason i chose to go *today* in particular, is that i had a really shitty afternoon. things just kept on comin', and getting worse and more bloody irritating as they did. by a quarter to four, i'd REALLY had enough. so (and gods bless the joy that is flexi-time!) i called it a day. in a foul mood, i thought i'd head for lush as i had the time for once, and was getting really low on some things.
oh! i am sooo glad i did. the smell in that shop is just...*sigh*...heavenly. and i've noticed before, i immediately feel better when i walk through the door. i.m.m.e.d.i.a.t.e.l.y. and after my bath tonight (with my delicious Space Girl bathbomb and lovely new violet-smelluing Daddy-O shampoo and Sexy Peel soap - guaranteed to make you feel good, just on its own), i feel - MUCH better. almost drunk, in fact. coz, y'know - there's certain times when us girls (through no fault of our own) feel really, really crap (the girls know what i mean, right?). but i've found that smells can help. and at other times, too.
aromatherapy? maybe.
but i think it's a very personal thing. for instance, the most wonderful woman in the world's favourite smell? poplar trees in bloom? it HATES me. i mean, it REALLY hates me. makes my nose feel all crinkly and weird inside. but, then, we're all different, after all. with similar chemicals and cells and stuff washing around inside us, but such vastly different mixes, you might as well compare graphite to diamond. both carbon, but the similarity ends there. same with taste and sight and, well everything. nature is such a wonderful thing. :) oh, yeah, and i was listening to the new album by The Imagined Village, too. also sold in Lush (0.o). to go with the bathbomb - "inspired" by one of the songs. yeah, yeah, yeah. even the organically tree-hugging Lush and TIV aren't above marketing. *grin* and why the hell should they be? everyone's gotta make a living somehow, after all. good album, though. and the song's great! sort of an updated version of "My Mother Said I Never Should..." lovin' Eliza Carthy. just lovin' her. if i could be anny singer/musician/whatever, she's the one.
and now, to sleep. briefly (if i can ever be brief about anything!) my body clock seems to have reset itself to wake up at 5 am. by the gods, it's annoying! by the time i'm just about ready to drop off again, the alarm's due in about 20 minutes! GAAAH!!! hate this. not getting enough sleep. at. all.
this morning, though, i woke up with the germ of a story. dunno if it was a whisp of a dream or what, but it was kind of an image of a set of twins. one magical, the other not. but, the non-magical one is more magical than the magical one, in a way, because everything comes as a quality of her, rather than the magic. or something. that one needs to settle in the silt for a while...grow some roots. along with the vampire, and the incubus and the succubus. this could take years, but i'm happy to have them there, just kind of...barely simmering...i guess. it makes me happy in a tiny but important way.
Saturday 13 February 2010
mind's wandering again...
today, i typed approximately 2,750 words. that's about 5 days' worth. not bad. happy with this. tomorrow, i may see if i can repeat the feat, and make it 5,000. odd how easy it is when i ignore the siren call of twitter, innit?... also, at a running total of 32,00 words, i finally got round to backing it up on a memory stick. show's you what i feel about this one, when compared to the last one, which i backed up every time i wrote any more. or maybe i now trust my slightly shaky and delicate laptop not to do something catastrophic? personally, i think it's probably the former. not that there isn't some (to me, at least) good stuff in the new one (i'm particularly fond of the clowns - they are what started this one, after all), but ... Oh, i dunno. i think there are at least some of my treaders (hah! all ten of 'em!) who may be disappointed having read the first one. and the first third REALLY needs a kick up the arse. but that is a problem for later. right now, i'm actually quite enjoying the story. i may even post a little of it here, if i get around to it - and if i think anyone else may want to read it.
(*re-reads what has just written* hmmm...three sets of brackets in the first paragraph. i may get told off for that...)
now i have a headache, possibly from typing, but more likely from how much i smoke when i'm typing (or writing, for that matter). bad girl, squeaky! :( really, at my age, you'd think i would know better. especially since my mum glories in the story of the time when i was at a neighbour's house party and, at four years old, proudly and vehemently told a lady who had just produced a cigarette "If you smoke, you'll die!"
i was that sort of kid.
the lady in question apparrently said "Well, that's told ME." and returned the cigarette to its packet. history is silent on whether she took my four-year-old's advice to heart. probably not, though.
so, unless we acquire another judge, it seems i won the competition. this makes me happy, of course it does. but it feels a bit weird, too. like i'm an impostor, or something. like somebody's going to sneak up behind me and whip the mask off and expose me for being one with a writing well the depth of a puddle. i guess i'm reasonably good at describing scenes. i certainly enjoy it, a lot, and i had the most marvellous fun with the competition. but it's the finding of the stories, and the stringing together of them, and the dialogue (*groan* the dialogue! i'm sooo bad at it, and i *hate* having to write it!). i keep expecting the well to suddenly run dry and to be left on the bottom, flopping and gasping like a dying fish, whilst the slime of centuries drips around me. and as for doing something original, or telling it in an original way - forget it! i am too forgetful (or lazy, more likely) for proper plotting, multiple storylines, or the gradual reveal. too instinctive. no sense of structure. i just write, and see where my pen takes me. sometimes this is good - someties bad. often indifferent. but i do kind of enjoy writing that way, too - seeing where the story will lead me. it's almost like the reading of another person's novel. i just wander down the path, going "Oooo!" at any wonders i'm shown along the way. when i was writing this one, for instance, i got an image in my head of how i write. i will share it with you, dear reader, and hope it makes some sort of sense:
imagine a windy day. there is a girl, standing on a bright and grassy hillside. for some reason, she has long, dark hair, a slender, willowy build, and beautiful, creamy skin. in her hands, she holds a long, long strip of red chiffon, a couple of feet wide. she is holding this chiffon by the corners of one end, and it is the unwritten story. it is fluttering and weaving sinuously in the wind. as i write the story, the words i put onto the page gradually appear on the edges of the chiffon as stones the colour of the sky, weighing it to the ground along its length. the end of the chiffon continues to dance in the wind, but the story as it is written, it gradually lays down a red path on the hillside, and the dancing portion becomes less and less until i finally write "The End".
and now, The Most Wonderful Woman In The World has arrived with her two adorable lurchers, so i must stop.
(*re-reads what has just written* hmmm...three sets of brackets in the first paragraph. i may get told off for that...)
now i have a headache, possibly from typing, but more likely from how much i smoke when i'm typing (or writing, for that matter). bad girl, squeaky! :( really, at my age, you'd think i would know better. especially since my mum glories in the story of the time when i was at a neighbour's house party and, at four years old, proudly and vehemently told a lady who had just produced a cigarette "If you smoke, you'll die!"
i was that sort of kid.
the lady in question apparrently said "Well, that's told ME." and returned the cigarette to its packet. history is silent on whether she took my four-year-old's advice to heart. probably not, though.
so, unless we acquire another judge, it seems i won the competition. this makes me happy, of course it does. but it feels a bit weird, too. like i'm an impostor, or something. like somebody's going to sneak up behind me and whip the mask off and expose me for being one with a writing well the depth of a puddle. i guess i'm reasonably good at describing scenes. i certainly enjoy it, a lot, and i had the most marvellous fun with the competition. but it's the finding of the stories, and the stringing together of them, and the dialogue (*groan* the dialogue! i'm sooo bad at it, and i *hate* having to write it!). i keep expecting the well to suddenly run dry and to be left on the bottom, flopping and gasping like a dying fish, whilst the slime of centuries drips around me. and as for doing something original, or telling it in an original way - forget it! i am too forgetful (or lazy, more likely) for proper plotting, multiple storylines, or the gradual reveal. too instinctive. no sense of structure. i just write, and see where my pen takes me. sometimes this is good - someties bad. often indifferent. but i do kind of enjoy writing that way, too - seeing where the story will lead me. it's almost like the reading of another person's novel. i just wander down the path, going "Oooo!" at any wonders i'm shown along the way. when i was writing this one, for instance, i got an image in my head of how i write. i will share it with you, dear reader, and hope it makes some sort of sense:
imagine a windy day. there is a girl, standing on a bright and grassy hillside. for some reason, she has long, dark hair, a slender, willowy build, and beautiful, creamy skin. in her hands, she holds a long, long strip of red chiffon, a couple of feet wide. she is holding this chiffon by the corners of one end, and it is the unwritten story. it is fluttering and weaving sinuously in the wind. as i write the story, the words i put onto the page gradually appear on the edges of the chiffon as stones the colour of the sky, weighing it to the ground along its length. the end of the chiffon continues to dance in the wind, but the story as it is written, it gradually lays down a red path on the hillside, and the dancing portion becomes less and less until i finally write "The End".
and now, The Most Wonderful Woman In The World has arrived with her two adorable lurchers, so i must stop.
Friday 12 February 2010
competition #2
hmmm...well, it's looking increasingly like it's just going to be me and Scuppy for the comp. *sigh* i so hoped foodie at least would join in too. but she's been poorly, poor love (get well soon! X) and i don't blame her for not wasting her depleted energy.
sooo...here we have attempt number 2 at posting those pictures...
goddamnit!!!
ok, so i guess you can see that the pictures have not only decided to post themselves at the top of the post, they have also decided to duplicate themselves.
(n.b. see lower down for why this ain't so - real-time blogging, brought to you by Squeaky The Pathetic Noob!)
i am also a complete and utter pillock, as i realised when i went to do this again that the reason the "post pictures" button was greyed out the first time, is that i hadn't ticked the box that says i agree to the terms of service (or whatever).
...but thanks for the advice anyway, Jens. i'll figure it out one day, i swear...
hmph. this blog (therefore me, since i write it) is probably the most pants blog ever! however - i will learn! oh, yus! because...
in other news, i am assured that my brand-new sparkly broadband internet connector-thingy is winging its way here as we speak (or type, or read) (whatever...anyway...) i shall now perform (for about the tenth time since yesterday) a happydance, because it makes me happy......
*happydance*
there. that's better! now, let's try something else, shall we?...
*fiddles with picture thingies a bit more*
okay! well, now, at least we only have one of each picture. AND!!! they are in the right order. WIN!
time for a quick cut-and-paste of the text again...
1.
The autumn day was cool and damp. On a day like this, when the air was fresh on his skin, smelling faintly of leaf mould and the promise of winter, he wanted to be outside.
Strolling along an anonymous back street, marvelling at how people managed to get their cars in and out of the closely-crammed lines on either side, he idly scratched an itch at the back of his head.
The itch refused to be scratched.
Then he realised – the itch was not on his scalp, but inside his head. As he came upon a knackered blue fiat, the itch flared into pain, as he met the malevolent stare of the black cat sitting, hunched and still, on the bonnet. Its ginger companion stared far away into a place that only he could see.
As the pain grew and set fire to his mind, he realised, with dread, that he had strolled down the wrong street, and these were not mere cats, but guardians.
And they would make him pay for his trespass.
The autumn day was cool and damp. On a day like this, when the air was fresh on his skin, smelling faintly of leaf mould and the promise of winter, he wanted to be outside.
Strolling along an anonymous back street, marvelling at how people managed to get their cars in and out of the closely-crammed lines on either side, he idly scratched an itch at the back of his head.
The itch refused to be scratched.
Then he realised – the itch was not on his scalp, but inside his head. As he came upon a knackered blue fiat, the itch flared into pain, as he met the malevolent stare of the black cat sitting, hunched and still, on the bonnet. Its ginger companion stared far away into a place that only he could see.
As the pain grew and set fire to his mind, he realised, with dread, that he had strolled down the wrong street, and these were not mere cats, but guardians.
And they would make him pay for his trespass.
2.
Jim couldn’t believe his luck.
How many times, if ever, do you spy a half-dressed raven-haired honey running full pelt down a busy city street, making a beeline for you? He knew she was heading for him, since her dark eyes never left his face as she ran.
“Oh, wow!” was all he could think.
“Oh, wow!” as she drew nearer and nearer.
He just couldn’t help the broad and (he hoped) welcoming smile that spread across his features as she skidded to a stop in front of him.
The smile, however, was instantly replaced by a grimace of wide-eyed terror as her intense stare nailed him to the pavement, and she drew two of the biggest hand cannons that Jim had ever seen – in or out of the movies.
“Down.” She ordered, quietly.
Jim hit the flagstones an instant later and, as the guns went off, heard twin thuds on the pavement behind him.
How many times, if ever, do you spy a half-dressed raven-haired honey running full pelt down a busy city street, making a beeline for you? He knew she was heading for him, since her dark eyes never left his face as she ran.
“Oh, wow!” was all he could think.
“Oh, wow!” as she drew nearer and nearer.
He just couldn’t help the broad and (he hoped) welcoming smile that spread across his features as she skidded to a stop in front of him.
The smile, however, was instantly replaced by a grimace of wide-eyed terror as her intense stare nailed him to the pavement, and she drew two of the biggest hand cannons that Jim had ever seen – in or out of the movies.
“Down.” She ordered, quietly.
Jim hit the flagstones an instant later and, as the guns went off, heard twin thuds on the pavement behind him.
3.
Venice. Romantic Italian city-state. Home of the masque, of art, and of decadence.
Grey, wretched, filled with the noxious smell from the lagoons, and absolutely pissing down.
The little boats bobbing on the canal reminded her of children on a school trip to Buxton in the wintertime.
He had sent her a picture of this place, saying “Meet me here, and I will show you delights of which you have never dared to dream.”
So she had come.
What she had found was a gloomy, empty, swamp-stinking picture of misery and decay. The buildings, stained with the damp and mould of centuries, wept in the desolate downpour.
And she wept with them, mourning her shattered romantic dreams.
Grey, wretched, filled with the noxious smell from the lagoons, and absolutely pissing down.
The little boats bobbing on the canal reminded her of children on a school trip to Buxton in the wintertime.
He had sent her a picture of this place, saying “Meet me here, and I will show you delights of which you have never dared to dream.”
So she had come.
What she had found was a gloomy, empty, swamp-stinking picture of misery and decay. The buildings, stained with the damp and mould of centuries, wept in the desolate downpour.
And she wept with them, mourning her shattered romantic dreams.
4.
The lowering evening sun struck diamonds from the ice that sparkled all around her. Her mermaid’s body rose up, the tail just out of sight beneath the steely surface of the still water. She was young, softly rounded, and utterly beguiling in her freedom from care or reserve.
Smiling into the sunset, she stretched luxuriantly in her icy bath, seen by no-one but a swan, making his stately way over the ice, on business of his own.
Smiling into the sunset, she stretched luxuriantly in her icy bath, seen by no-one but a swan, making his stately way over the ice, on business of his own.
there - now, if you are interested, dear reader, you won't have to do toooo much scrolling.
bloody hell, this blogging lark's bloody hard work!
missing post
...and now, i really HAVE been away for ages! bloody phone has now decided that i CAN'T blog from it. *grumblegrumblegrumble*
oh, well - here's one that should have been posted (I forget when - Monday? Tuesday? anyway...):
"Well, i hope this works, this time. (hah!)
soundtrack to this post is Empire by Kasabian, BTW. currently, Apnoea. i love that song, despite its puzzling clubness. a tiny part of that is because apnoea takes your breath away, and i kind of associate this with the rush of utter bliss of dancing in a club, and one of your favourites comes on, and you're *already* in amongst that heaving, sweating, many bodied animal on the dancefloor, and damn, it feels GOOD!!!
hah - wasn't actual;ly going to blog about that. i think i was going to say something along the lines of what a strange and wondrous place the interwebz is. for me, at any rate. daily, it astonishes me in unexpected ways. and one day, i may even attempt to explain the previous tautology (?)....
...but not today, for my bus journey is nearly over..."
oh, well - here's one that should have been posted (I forget when - Monday? Tuesday? anyway...):
"Well, i hope this works, this time. (hah!)
soundtrack to this post is Empire by Kasabian, BTW. currently, Apnoea. i love that song, despite its puzzling clubness. a tiny part of that is because apnoea takes your breath away, and i kind of associate this with the rush of utter bliss of dancing in a club, and one of your favourites comes on, and you're *already* in amongst that heaving, sweating, many bodied animal on the dancefloor, and damn, it feels GOOD!!!
hah - wasn't actual;ly going to blog about that. i think i was going to say something along the lines of what a strange and wondrous place the interwebz is. for me, at any rate. daily, it astonishes me in unexpected ways. and one day, i may even attempt to explain the previous tautology (?)....
...but not today, for my bus journey is nearly over..."
Sunday 7 February 2010
oh, bugger! #2
ALSO forgot to mention (and how COULD I???) that i am currently engaged in a description duel with more twitterfriends: @scupperlout @nwfoodie and possibly @TheFirstCarol, though she is undecided, yet. @jenku70 (Jens) is the judge (and possibly carol, if she decides not to participate in the duel / trial(?))
Jens picked some photos, and we must describe the scene as if in a novel / short story. let's see if i can cut and paste my entry, shall we, dear reader?....
1.
The autumn day was cool and damp. On a day like this, when the air was fresh on his skin, smelling faintly of leaf mould and the promise of winter, he wanted to be outside.
Strolling along an anonymous back street, marvelling at how people managed to get their cars in and out of the closely-crammed lines on either side, he idly scratched an itch at the back of his head.
The itch refused to be scratched.
Then he realised – the itch was not on his scalp, but inside his head. As he came upon a knackered blue fiat, the itch flared into pain, as he met the malevolent stare of the black cat sitting, hunched and still, on the bonnet. Its ginger companion stared far away into a place that only he could see.
As the pain grew and set fire to his mind, he realised, with dread, that he had strolled down the wrong street, and these were not mere cats, but guardians.
And they would make him pay for his trespass.
2.
Jim couldn’t believe his luck.
How many times, if ever, do you spy a half-dressed raven-haired honey running full pelt down a busy city street, making a beeline for you? He knew she was heading for him, since her dark eyes never left his face as she ran.
“Oh, wow!” was all he could think.
“Oh, wow!” as she drew nearer and nearer.
He just couldn’t help the broad and (he hoped) welcoming smile that spread across his features as she skidded to a stop in front of him.
The smile, however, was instantly replaced by a grimace of wide-eyed terror as her intense stare nailed him to the pavement, and she drew two of the biggest hand cannons that Jim had ever seen – in or out of the movies.
“Down.” She ordered, quietly.
Jim hit the flagstones an instant later and, as the guns went off, heard twin thuds on the pavement behind him.
3.
Venice. Romantic Italian city-state. Home of the masque, of art, and of decadence.
Grey, wretched, filled with the noxious smell from the lagoons, and absolutely pissing down.
The little boats bobbing on the canal reminded her of children on a school trip to Buxton in the wintertime.
He had sent her a picture of this place, saying “Meet me here, and I will show you delights of which you have never dared to dream.”
So she had come.
What she had found was a gloomy, empty, swamp-stinking picture of misery and decay. The buildings, stained with the damp and mould of centuries, wept in the desolate downpour.
And she wept with them, mourning her shattered romantic dreams.
4.
The lowering evening sun struck diamonds from the ice that sparkled all around her. Her mermaid’s body rose up, the tail just out of sight beneath the steely surface of the still water. She was young, softly rounded, and utterly beguiling in her freedom from care or reserve.
Smiling into the sunset, she stretched luxuriantly in her icy bath, seen by no-one but a swan, making his stately way over the ice, on business of his own.
damn! STILL no pictures!
oh, well, the judge(s?) has it now - it is out of my hands. however, it was a very pleasant and rather fun way to spend a saturday night, and i would reccomend it to anyone... :)
Jens picked some photos, and we must describe the scene as if in a novel / short story. let's see if i can cut and paste my entry, shall we, dear reader?....
1.
The autumn day was cool and damp. On a day like this, when the air was fresh on his skin, smelling faintly of leaf mould and the promise of winter, he wanted to be outside.
Strolling along an anonymous back street, marvelling at how people managed to get their cars in and out of the closely-crammed lines on either side, he idly scratched an itch at the back of his head.
The itch refused to be scratched.
Then he realised – the itch was not on his scalp, but inside his head. As he came upon a knackered blue fiat, the itch flared into pain, as he met the malevolent stare of the black cat sitting, hunched and still, on the bonnet. Its ginger companion stared far away into a place that only he could see.
As the pain grew and set fire to his mind, he realised, with dread, that he had strolled down the wrong street, and these were not mere cats, but guardians.
And they would make him pay for his trespass.
2.
Jim couldn’t believe his luck.
How many times, if ever, do you spy a half-dressed raven-haired honey running full pelt down a busy city street, making a beeline for you? He knew she was heading for him, since her dark eyes never left his face as she ran.
“Oh, wow!” was all he could think.
“Oh, wow!” as she drew nearer and nearer.
He just couldn’t help the broad and (he hoped) welcoming smile that spread across his features as she skidded to a stop in front of him.
The smile, however, was instantly replaced by a grimace of wide-eyed terror as her intense stare nailed him to the pavement, and she drew two of the biggest hand cannons that Jim had ever seen – in or out of the movies.
“Down.” She ordered, quietly.
Jim hit the flagstones an instant later and, as the guns went off, heard twin thuds on the pavement behind him.
3.
Venice. Romantic Italian city-state. Home of the masque, of art, and of decadence.
Grey, wretched, filled with the noxious smell from the lagoons, and absolutely pissing down.
The little boats bobbing on the canal reminded her of children on a school trip to Buxton in the wintertime.
He had sent her a picture of this place, saying “Meet me here, and I will show you delights of which you have never dared to dream.”
So she had come.
What she had found was a gloomy, empty, swamp-stinking picture of misery and decay. The buildings, stained with the damp and mould of centuries, wept in the desolate downpour.
And she wept with them, mourning her shattered romantic dreams.
4.
The lowering evening sun struck diamonds from the ice that sparkled all around her. Her mermaid’s body rose up, the tail just out of sight beneath the steely surface of the still water. She was young, softly rounded, and utterly beguiling in her freedom from care or reserve.
Smiling into the sunset, she stretched luxuriantly in her icy bath, seen by no-one but a swan, making his stately way over the ice, on business of his own.
damn! STILL no pictures!
oh, well, the judge(s?) has it now - it is out of my hands. however, it was a very pleasant and rather fun way to spend a saturday night, and i would reccomend it to anyone... :)
oh, bugger!
...and i was so loved-up myself with what a happy day i'm having, that i forgot to mention that i may, very soon, have a PROPER, grown-up internet connection (instead of the mobile-modem one i'm currently using)
more happiness! ^_^
more happiness! ^_^
why does it feel like i've been away for ages?...
...because it really does.
business first:
I tried to blog on thursday morning, but did it from my phone, cocked it up, and blogger ate the post.
this is probably a good thing, actually. i had insomnia on wed night, and i was in the foulest mood you could possibly imagine. no - worse than that, honestly. i was ready to up sticks and move to Mongolia or something. i'd REALLY had enough.
Thursday was A Bad Day.
however, through the intervention of The World's Most Wonderful Woman (what i did to deserve my best friend, i shall never know!), with tea and sympathy, i suddenly felt reborn, energised and fresh as a daisy. This is a woman who has more common sense and wisdom than i could aquire in ten centenarian lifetimes. she is a transcendent, shining star.
friday had me bouncing off the walls with joy and sunshine, my emotional armour fully repaired and gleaming. *beams*
so saturday, i actually felt ready, for the first time in aaaages to go climbing. was a total whimp having been away from it for over three months, but it was still good. managed a couple of hours, and i even think i managed a Grade 5+ (though it may only have been a 5. ah, who cares? the actually getting to alter-rock and doing it was the important bit! anyway...)
(an aside - can anyone tell me how to add hyperlinks to this effing thing?! 0.o)
today, we made the list of faults with isobel, our poor misused camper van. she went in last november for a paint job and came out with, well, a travesty. she was supposed to have been stripped right down to the bare metal, welded, knackered panels replaced, and painted a black cherry purple. however... this Did Not Happen. boy, were we furious!
garage bloke was very embarrassed when we showed him, and told us to make a list of all that was wrong. and so, we did:
Front
Rust @bottom corner of driver’s side windscreen
Washer jets and wipers not removed – only taped around (old paint can be seen)
Bottom radiator grill fell off – not been screwed on properly / screws missing
End cap on passenger side of bumper not secured. Falls off when knocked
Overspray on headlights
Driver’s side – front
Rust coming through on wheel arch
Step rusty and not under sealed
Rust in L. corner door sill
Door handles not removed, only taped
Roof gully - silicone
Driver’s side – middle
Rusty all the way along the bottom
White can be seen around water fill cap
Driver’s side – back panel
Rust coming out both ends of slider gully
No rubber seal for slider gully cover
Back
Can see original paintwork around window seal
Overspray on to back window seal
Rust patches all along bottom edge of back door
White paint can be seen around lock
Rear door does not close easily or correctly
Passenger side rear
Sliding gully completely rotten
No rubber seal on sliding gully cover
Wheel arch not under sealed
End cap on passenger side of bumper not secured. Falls off when knocked
Sliding door
Bearings on door slider mechanism need replacement (this occasionally makes the door fall off)
Sliding window should be in driver’s side (middle)
Roof gully rusty all the way along
Rust all along the bottom of this part
Rust and old paint still present around the window aperture
Passenger side - front
Rust around door handle
Rust in R corner of door sill
Rust coming through on wheel arch
Step rusty and no underseal
General
Patchy paintwork and poor finish throughout – needs stripping back to bare metal and painying, as originally agreed.
Inside
Seals around all windows / sliding door missing
Door locks not connected to locking buttons
i think this will give them plenty to go at - don't you?...
now: pleasure ^_^
two main pleasures today (aside from the little ones like tea and cigarettes, and hubby unexpectedly presenting me with chocolate :)
pleasure #1 was read in a blog called "Moments of Genius"
...it appears i've been given a blogging award (already! :-O ), by the lovely, lovely Grace Onorato, who really is one of the sweetest people i've ever come across. it's a Sunshine Award, and is for
"...blog writers and commenters whose words bring joy to their readers and those whose blogs they comment on."
Grace, thankyou from the bottom of my warm fuzzied heart. you are a joy to know, my dear, and i am privileged beyond words. ^_^
XXX
now, there are instructions on her blog on what i need to do next, but i'm such a pathetic noob i can't follow them (sorry, honey), coz i cannot make the interwebz dance to my tune. ...YET... (more on that in a moment). however, here they are, along with her awardees (hope this works):
Here are the rules:
1. Put the logo on your blog or within the post.
2. Pass the award onto 12 bloggers.
3. Link the nominees within your post.
4. Let the nominees know they have received the award by posting on their blogs.
5. Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award.
And the winners of my Sunshine Awards are (in no particular order):
1. William: William's Poetry Blog
2. Dorkvader: The Dork Side
3. Sqeaky: an earthbound misfit
4. Shelly: Shell's Musings
5. Lynda 'n Kara: She Wears Heels While Exercising
6. Kevin: 12k on Black
7. Badgerpendous: Badgerpendous Is
9. Sushi: Sushimustwrite
10. Journalwriter: Journalwriter
11. Bethany: Shooting Stars
12. Mackleen: Left-Handed People Cry Too
hmmm...ok, that *seems* to have worked...
...but i don't know HOW to follow any of the rules! i can't even cut and paste in the damn picture! :o(
but am still thrilled to receive the award, so thankyou once again, lovely Grace. :o)
pleasure #2 comes from the fact that i actually appear to be able to write a decent story.
i have sent (with much trepidation and general trembling) my 2008 NaNoWriMo novel to a good twitterfriend named Jens Khun. i've only known him a few weeks, but because i loved HIS book ("Gunboat Number 14 - check it out - i dare you not to adore the lovely Anna, and will fight you if you don't...), and he appeared to like a short story i had written a while ago (based on the book "Who Killed Amanda Palmer" by Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman - undoubtedly the two most loved-up people on the planet right now...), i sent him my novel "Minatour", to see if he liked it. and (judging by his tweets) he's genuinely enjoying it! this fills me with more warm fuzzies.
Today is A Very Happy Day. ^_^
business first:
I tried to blog on thursday morning, but did it from my phone, cocked it up, and blogger ate the post.
this is probably a good thing, actually. i had insomnia on wed night, and i was in the foulest mood you could possibly imagine. no - worse than that, honestly. i was ready to up sticks and move to Mongolia or something. i'd REALLY had enough.
Thursday was A Bad Day.
however, through the intervention of The World's Most Wonderful Woman (what i did to deserve my best friend, i shall never know!), with tea and sympathy, i suddenly felt reborn, energised and fresh as a daisy. This is a woman who has more common sense and wisdom than i could aquire in ten centenarian lifetimes. she is a transcendent, shining star.
friday had me bouncing off the walls with joy and sunshine, my emotional armour fully repaired and gleaming. *beams*
so saturday, i actually felt ready, for the first time in aaaages to go climbing. was a total whimp having been away from it for over three months, but it was still good. managed a couple of hours, and i even think i managed a Grade 5+ (though it may only have been a 5. ah, who cares? the actually getting to alter-rock and doing it was the important bit! anyway...)
(an aside - can anyone tell me how to add hyperlinks to this effing thing?! 0.o)
today, we made the list of faults with isobel, our poor misused camper van. she went in last november for a paint job and came out with, well, a travesty. she was supposed to have been stripped right down to the bare metal, welded, knackered panels replaced, and painted a black cherry purple. however... this Did Not Happen. boy, were we furious!
garage bloke was very embarrassed when we showed him, and told us to make a list of all that was wrong. and so, we did:
Front
Rust @bottom corner of driver’s side windscreen
Washer jets and wipers not removed – only taped around (old paint can be seen)
Bottom radiator grill fell off – not been screwed on properly / screws missing
End cap on passenger side of bumper not secured. Falls off when knocked
Overspray on headlights
Driver’s side – front
Rust coming through on wheel arch
Step rusty and not under sealed
Rust in L. corner door sill
Door handles not removed, only taped
Roof gully - silicone
Driver’s side – middle
Rusty all the way along the bottom
White can be seen around water fill cap
Driver’s side – back panel
Rust coming out both ends of slider gully
No rubber seal for slider gully cover
Back
Can see original paintwork around window seal
Overspray on to back window seal
Rust patches all along bottom edge of back door
White paint can be seen around lock
Rear door does not close easily or correctly
Passenger side rear
Sliding gully completely rotten
No rubber seal on sliding gully cover
Wheel arch not under sealed
End cap on passenger side of bumper not secured. Falls off when knocked
Sliding door
Bearings on door slider mechanism need replacement (this occasionally makes the door fall off)
Sliding window should be in driver’s side (middle)
Roof gully rusty all the way along
Rust all along the bottom of this part
Rust and old paint still present around the window aperture
Passenger side - front
Rust around door handle
Rust in R corner of door sill
Rust coming through on wheel arch
Step rusty and no underseal
General
Patchy paintwork and poor finish throughout – needs stripping back to bare metal and painying, as originally agreed.
Inside
Seals around all windows / sliding door missing
Door locks not connected to locking buttons
i think this will give them plenty to go at - don't you?...
now: pleasure ^_^
two main pleasures today (aside from the little ones like tea and cigarettes, and hubby unexpectedly presenting me with chocolate :)
pleasure #1 was read in a blog called "Moments of Genius"
...it appears i've been given a blogging award (already! :-O ), by the lovely, lovely Grace Onorato, who really is one of the sweetest people i've ever come across. it's a Sunshine Award, and is for
"...blog writers and commenters whose words bring joy to their readers and those whose blogs they comment on."
Grace, thankyou from the bottom of my warm fuzzied heart. you are a joy to know, my dear, and i am privileged beyond words. ^_^
XXX
now, there are instructions on her blog on what i need to do next, but i'm such a pathetic noob i can't follow them (sorry, honey), coz i cannot make the interwebz dance to my tune. ...YET... (more on that in a moment). however, here they are, along with her awardees (hope this works):
Here are the rules:
1. Put the logo on your blog or within the post.
2. Pass the award onto 12 bloggers.
3. Link the nominees within your post.
4. Let the nominees know they have received the award by posting on their blogs.
5. Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award.
And the winners of my Sunshine Awards are (in no particular order):
1. William: William's Poetry Blog
2. Dorkvader: The Dork Side
3. Sqeaky: an earthbound misfit
4. Shelly: Shell's Musings
5. Lynda 'n Kara: She Wears Heels While Exercising
6. Kevin: 12k on Black
7. Badgerpendous: Badgerpendous Is
9. Sushi: Sushimustwrite
10. Journalwriter: Journalwriter
11. Bethany: Shooting Stars
12. Mackleen: Left-Handed People Cry Too
hmmm...ok, that *seems* to have worked...
...but i don't know HOW to follow any of the rules! i can't even cut and paste in the damn picture! :o(
but am still thrilled to receive the award, so thankyou once again, lovely Grace. :o)
pleasure #2 comes from the fact that i actually appear to be able to write a decent story.
i have sent (with much trepidation and general trembling) my 2008 NaNoWriMo novel to a good twitterfriend named Jens Khun. i've only known him a few weeks, but because i loved HIS book ("Gunboat Number 14 - check it out - i dare you not to adore the lovely Anna, and will fight you if you don't...), and he appeared to like a short story i had written a while ago (based on the book "Who Killed Amanda Palmer" by Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman - undoubtedly the two most loved-up people on the planet right now...), i sent him my novel "Minatour", to see if he liked it. and (judging by his tweets) he's genuinely enjoying it! this fills me with more warm fuzzies.
Today is A Very Happy Day. ^_^
Digression into dancing bliss
Well, hope this works this time!
Soundtrack to this post is Empire by Kasabian, btw. Currently Apnoea. I love that song, despite its puzzling clubness. And a tiny part of that is because apnoea really does take one's breath away, and i kind of associate this with the rush of utter bliss of dancing in a club and one of your favourites comes on, and you're *already* in amongst that heaving, sweating animal on the dancefloor, and damn, it feels GOOD!!!
*ahem*
Wasn't actually going to blog about that. Think was going to say something about what a strange and wondrous place is the interwebz. For me, at any rate. Daily, it astonishes me in unexpected ways. And one day, i may even attempt to explain the previous tautology. But not today, for my bus journey is nearly over...
Soundtrack to this post is Empire by Kasabian, btw. Currently Apnoea. I love that song, despite its puzzling clubness. And a tiny part of that is because apnoea really does take one's breath away, and i kind of associate this with the rush of utter bliss of dancing in a club and one of your favourites comes on, and you're *already* in amongst that heaving, sweating animal on the dancefloor, and damn, it feels GOOD!!!
*ahem*
Wasn't actually going to blog about that. Think was going to say something about what a strange and wondrous place is the interwebz. For me, at any rate. Daily, it astonishes me in unexpected ways. And one day, i may even attempt to explain the previous tautology. But not today, for my bus journey is nearly over...
Wednesday 3 February 2010
Questions, questions...
You may be aware, dear reader (for surely, the abyss has yet to wave back...), that i write sometimes. Or sometimes write. Whatever.
This question has been occupying me for days. Nay, weeks, in fact. How much of one's self should one reveal, if one be weaving a fantasy? And how much of that fantasy should one ask it to reveal of itself? Surely the mystery is what keeps one hooked and begging for more?... Should all be laid on a plate? Or should there be coy fluttering of fans and dispensing of crumbs only?
It's a tricky one.
I am a strange mixture of wanting to throw myself open to the world, and being painfully mortified at the thought of what the world will find there.
But. I am actually beginning to realise that, well, (whispers and tries so very hard not to cry) maybe, just maybe, possibly, (oh, god, i want it to be so much that i can barely write it in case i jinx it) what if i really *am* a writer?... P.s. Failed at not crying. Extraordinary.
Suddenly, i'm messaging and corresponding and blogging (a bit), and i feel like G've been trapped in a box for a decade, and some kind soul has opened the lid and shown me sunlight and flowers and the summer breeze for the first time in years and years.
Need to stop now, i'm crying again.
This question has been occupying me for days. Nay, weeks, in fact. How much of one's self should one reveal, if one be weaving a fantasy? And how much of that fantasy should one ask it to reveal of itself? Surely the mystery is what keeps one hooked and begging for more?... Should all be laid on a plate? Or should there be coy fluttering of fans and dispensing of crumbs only?
It's a tricky one.
I am a strange mixture of wanting to throw myself open to the world, and being painfully mortified at the thought of what the world will find there.
But. I am actually beginning to realise that, well, (whispers and tries so very hard not to cry) maybe, just maybe, possibly, (oh, god, i want it to be so much that i can barely write it in case i jinx it) what if i really *am* a writer?... P.s. Failed at not crying. Extraordinary.
Suddenly, i'm messaging and corresponding and blogging (a bit), and i feel like G've been trapped in a box for a decade, and some kind soul has opened the lid and shown me sunlight and flowers and the summer breeze for the first time in years and years.
Need to stop now, i'm crying again.
Monday 1 February 2010
Sleepybyes
From where i stand in an overbright shop doorway, waiting for my bus, i can see the moon heading down the sky. She is framed between two buildings, and is stunningly beautiful. There's a slight haze of cloud, and the silhouette of a winter tree branch stands out again. Early mornings can sometimes be good for the soul, as well as keeping your flexi time in credit...
I wasn't going to tell you about that, though. I was going to tell you of my sleep. Or lack thereof. Coz, y'know, sometimes i go to bed forgetting to remove my contact lenses. As i did last night. And woke up about one am, going "Aaarrrgh!!!" Then immediately obeyed my instinct and got them off my eyeballs. Which the optician told me i should never do, as they are dry at that point, and stick to your eyeballs. Eurgh! Anyway. I obeyed my instinct, thus damaging my eyesight a tiny bit more. This is why i am generally suspicious of my instincts.... But i digress. So then i lay there for a good hour or so. My whole body aching, begging and screaming for sleep. And unable to close my eyes properly, because they hurt too much. Eventually, though, i did get to sleep, only to be woken again at about 5 by the central heating kicking in. This time, however, i was grateful. I had been dreaming that my feckless stepsons had brought a red setter round to the house, and it ate our rat, Mango. And i saw it all in slow motion. And there was one moment when i could have stopped it, and i didn't. And she looked into my eyes as that dog swallowed her. I am fully aware of the many innocuous things that produced this dream, but they don't change the fact that it was REALLY upsetting, for all sorts of reasons. So before i cry, i will note that before i woke to the agony caused by my own useless forgetting brain, i was dreaming that i was running naked through a country house hotel, and that i appear to be getting better at being naked in my dreams....
I wasn't going to tell you about that, though. I was going to tell you of my sleep. Or lack thereof. Coz, y'know, sometimes i go to bed forgetting to remove my contact lenses. As i did last night. And woke up about one am, going "Aaarrrgh!!!" Then immediately obeyed my instinct and got them off my eyeballs. Which the optician told me i should never do, as they are dry at that point, and stick to your eyeballs. Eurgh! Anyway. I obeyed my instinct, thus damaging my eyesight a tiny bit more. This is why i am generally suspicious of my instincts.... But i digress. So then i lay there for a good hour or so. My whole body aching, begging and screaming for sleep. And unable to close my eyes properly, because they hurt too much. Eventually, though, i did get to sleep, only to be woken again at about 5 by the central heating kicking in. This time, however, i was grateful. I had been dreaming that my feckless stepsons had brought a red setter round to the house, and it ate our rat, Mango. And i saw it all in slow motion. And there was one moment when i could have stopped it, and i didn't. And she looked into my eyes as that dog swallowed her. I am fully aware of the many innocuous things that produced this dream, but they don't change the fact that it was REALLY upsetting, for all sorts of reasons. So before i cry, i will note that before i woke to the agony caused by my own useless forgetting brain, i was dreaming that i was running naked through a country house hotel, and that i appear to be getting better at being naked in my dreams....
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