Archive for November, 2007
It’s not quite “I am loved, I am loved…” But a friend who I catch up with on Facebook, and who lives a long way away, told me that she’d been reading my blog. And she liked it!
Hurrah for those little encouragements friends can bring. I’d been tiring a bit of Facebook recently - not much new, too many car races to upgrade my virtual car etc. (It’s much easier to own a car on Facebook. You don’t need refresher lessons for one thing.)
Tonight, I go on, and there’s a lot more to read. Maybe it’s been one of those weeks for others, and having reached the weekend, they’re letting off steam online. Although another has been letting off steam with piles of baking (which is more realistically generating steam, I’m sure), so she’s entitled to a small sit down.
E M Forster was the one with the famous phrase “Only connect”. It came in a fairly dystopian story, if I remember rightly. Our English teacher duly underlined the quote. All this when there were a few computers about the place, but the Internet was in the hands of geeks, and certainly the concept of connecting was much more about face to face, phone call to phone call.
So, online connecting. It’s good, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t be on Facebook otherwise. Or emailing people. Sometimes, I guess, the virtual doesn’t quite satisfy.
But at other times…when would I find the time to email my friends about my little ideas, to encourage them in their own worlds? Particularly when those worlds are further away from my own. As people move away, lives overlap less, even this level of connecting is good.
There’s a verse that has been going around my head recently - coming from the time when I would write a daily diary, and add a quote at the start of each entry. I hope I’ve remembered it correctly:
“Sometimes the writer says
To hell with words
And longs to dig ditches. She writes of this longing,
and you, because you are her friend,
Write back.” [Erica Jong]
Online communication. It helps you know you’re not alone. And sometimes, it helps us to respond to each other, out of very ordinary circumstances, and find a moment of connection. Amen to that.
November 30th, 2007
Most frequent text message? ‘Now on bus on way home’. Or cup on way home. Predictive text is all very well, but given the number of times I send the same message, you’d think it would predict the right word, eh?
Having now had a mobile for maybe a bit over a year, I am getting the hang of things a bit more, though I am definitely in the ‘laughable’ category as far as teens go. I don’t upgrade my handset! I don’t have a cheeky ring tone! I don’t play songs loudly for my posse to sing along to on the bus! (All these are fairly common on my bus route.)
I resisted mobiles for ages. Why be available all the time? What’s wrong with ‘your word being your bond’ for when you’ll meet up with someone? But they do come in handy on work trips abroad, where the cheap B&B you found online has no phone in the room, or it’s too late to call but you’re thinking of your beloved, that kind of thing.
Another reason to be laughable to teens - I top up my mobile once a year…or so far, anyway. Given that I almost only use it for texts, that makes life easy. Consequently, when it actually rings, I get a bit panicked. I can’t get it out of my bag in time. Dear oh dear, they might say.
In my defence, I am a step beyond Mum and Dad having a mobile ‘for the car’ but only turning it on in cases of dire emergency (actually, I’m not sure when they turn it on at all, though it may be when Mum drives back from choir on her own.)
Predictive text can be fun though, in emails too. I used to have a colleague, whose name would regularly default to ‘boffin’ when I started typing it in. It was a reasonably good choice too…And I could change my name to frydab, or something equivalent, if I get fed up with being Frydman. Though I doubt it would mean they’d spell it right then either.
Anyway, I am smug in the knowledge that I don’t commit the cardinal mobile sin: to shout loudly ‘hello? hello? yes…I’m on the bus…train…’ and other forms of public transport. Those mortals are destined for the circle of hell where the bus doth runneth over. That’s my prediction, anyway.
November 30th, 2007
How to keep entertained on these long winter nights? You could write long Norse sagas - and with “Beowulf” in the cinema, your time could have come here - or go for a little low-level entertainment with some cutting and sticking.
Now lots of options for what you cut and stick. I’m not advising that you have to go full scrapbook mode. I got teased at home while growing up for constantly cutting things out of magazines - recipes in particular, but other things that were of interest. Probably back to the journalism side of being keen on lots of different things. This, coupled with a good old fashioned “this could come in useful” attitude, resulted in a lot of piles of newsprint, which finally made their way into scrapbooks.
So, card making, collage, papier mache…you name it. Cutting and sticking allows you to re-read your magazines or newspapers, end up with a larger pile of paper to recycle (for high inner smugness values), stick a few of them in a scrapbook, or bung them in a useful folder, and hopefully look at them again.
Trouble with cutting and sticking: are you really going to re-read the things you keep? This was the trouble before. How many of those recipes did I use? How many articles on nice white painted houses do you need for inspiration?
You can of course do the smaller version, which is editing what you’ve already got stashed away. Less cutting, more freeing up existing scrapbook pages, or the equivalent. But I probably shouldn’t be admitting to this degree of introversion.
Perhaps the really good side is the rediscovery. Kate Muir’s ode to the bacon butty van at the top of the Rest and Be Thankful. A particular recipe that you’ve done, loved, forgotten, and your heart leaps to see it again.
We are happy to reread a book. To listen to a song, time and time again. To put on a piece of clothing that makes you smile. Why not reread an article? Partly because there are so many of them, so many angles, so many tiny snippets to consider revisiting.
Anyway, come and retrieve me when you hear the scissors hit the floor.
November 27th, 2007
A year today since we started the blog. In terms of entry material, it’s more like two, since we started the blog as an alternative to Christmas letters.
Dan pointed out that most of the entries have been a) in the first month or two (rapid posting to emulate the year in full look of the Christmas letter) and b) in the last couple of months, since getting the laptop. So it’s maybe not so true to the time periods themselves, but hey, it’s there.
I know there are plenty of people out there who hate Christmas round robins. There are even books of assorted excerpts from (we trust) genuine letters, designed to bring out anyone’s inner humbug. So on one hand, you’re let off lightly by not having them from us any more. And on the other hand…much more to read!
The difficulty with overviews is that they can’t help being a bit blow by blow, a bit exhausting, even just to contemplate writing, let alone to read. A couple of years back, I attempted a CV for my own purposes, just to see what I’d been up to, as I’d been in the same job for a while. I was tempted to have a lie down after…because however you write it, en masse, all those activities, those opportunities, become overwhelming.
A blog, with luck, is a bit more like a telegram. Or a social column. Or a shaggy dog story you can relate to someone else. Maybe even akin to a poem, if the writer’s really going for it. Certainly potential for a Speaker’s Corner type rant - we can’t all get to London for that kind of opportunity every time we want to let off steam.
Maybe a blog is also like a soap opera. Bite sized, but addictive. Designed to make you come back to see what’s new, whether any new characters have been introduced. With the big advantage that the writer is not limited to the environs of Albert Square, the Woolpack, or any of the other soap locations. More like a series of postcards from different locations, akin to the (very well) organised interrailer who’s determined to gain as many different postmarks as possible on their cards back home.
So, what can we promise you for Frydmania 07-08? A few new categories, perhaps, so that I’m not lumping work with church with relatives, all under the heading of family. But at the same time, having kept to the same set all year, it’s forced me to think differently about these groups of people, and others. And hopefully a blog is a good place to start thinking differently.
Maybe I’ll go back and retag previous stories for the new categories. That could be a little uber-geek. But a few more photos might be nice, if I can get Dan to remind me how to add them.
Perhaps the real challenge is to go back and see how much I’ve written about particular topics already, so as to avoid them in the future…or not. Like the soap opera, the postcard, there’s a certain comfort in familiarity. I promise not to include a Christmas shopping guide, a la magazines with their regularly revolving seasonal focuses. But sometimes, given that writing in cyberspace tends to make me muse about transitory and changing things, a bit of repetition, a bit of grounding in real life is no bad thing.
After all, a blog is an ideal opportunity to “stand and stare”, in words, stepping back from a “world…full of care”. Whether it’s a blink, a double take…now read on.
November 26th, 2007
Bit lazy today - big lie in, but some activity later. We worked together to clear leaves from the lawn, put in a couple more bulbs, that kind of thing.
Quite a nice afternoon, even at the end of November. Made me think how rarely we are doing just physical stuff. Our jobs are so much about what our heads can do - with a spot of hand-eye coordination thrown in. Good at times to do something like stuffing leaves in a bin liner, so they can rot down.
Haven’t got much done with the garden since coming here. Sometimes that’s hard. Much of what’s in the garden has to fend for itself really. But one thing I’ve managed to do is clear leaves each autumn to make leaf mould. Today I was able to use some from two years ago, which was definitely nicely rotted down. I could even mulch a couple of things! How good is that?
“It is enough // to crumble the dark earth, While the robin sings over // Sad songs of autumn mirth.” [John Clare]
As much as anything, I’m grateful for days where doing something simple…is enough.
November 25th, 2007
Time for an outing, and a return to flat-pack world, aka IKEA. Today’s mission: to secure thin shelves and cupboards for our bathroom, so we can order a mirror for the remaining space, and allow Olly to finish things off.
For those without a car, trips to IKEA take on…well, certainly not mythical status, but there’s a certain amount of planning that goes on. Today’s version was also to work out what we could feasibly carry back on the bus and still come out with enough items to make the trip worthwhile.
What struck me was just how tricky these big retail parks make things for pedestrians. We started off in an electricals shop nearby to suss out some kitchen appliances. To make our way across from that to IKEA involved cutting across corporatised planting at the edge of one scheme, heading up a slope, and trying to avoid the cars boiling out of the IKEA carpark in order to get across that to the front door…Mind you, this seemed easier than the pedestrian crush on Princes Street, where a certain section of scaffolding was resulting in people having to go off pavement, and into the bus lane…
I understand that out of town shopping expects you to have a car. I am properly grateful for any bus stops located near these areas. But at least big supermarkets have pedestrian walkways, or equivalent, in order to cross their car parks.
Lest I suggest that having four wheels makes it easier to buy more than you need, I too rely on others with cars when we have need of a bigger load from furniture places and the like. I twist arms here and there to have things collected from our place that we can’t get to the tip on our own. I respond well to the local council collecting recycling from my door step. And so on.
Thing is, so much of the UK is set up for having your own transport. While we bemoan traffic getting heavier in Edinburgh, I don’t see much sign of areas out of town being encouraged to work without cars. I read in the paper yesterday of a new development in the middle of Edinburgh, which was trying to make it mandatory for tenants to do without cars. One of the immediate responses was to be concerned about car owners in neighbouring streets being squeezed out by newcomers agreeing to the ruling but then sneakily a) owning a car after all and b) parking on the side streets.
Nothing like community spirit eh?
November 24th, 2007
Hurrah for Friday night, and some more QI. When you’ve reached the final hurdle of the end of the week, it’s nice to sit down and have some reliably (very) funny oddities of the world to learn about, and laugh about.
QI appeals for those moments when you just need a little bit of unusual (or at time, downright incomprehensible) information. Thing is, I think my need for this is higher than most. This could be why I continue to like reading columnists whose virtue is spotting thngs happening in the world, and commenting on them. It’s a bit of a goldfish mentality, probably, the “ooh what’s that?” followed by “that’s interesting” followed by “ooh what’s that?” etc.
The thing is, I planned to start this by telling you about a series of options on YouTube, whereby you can see sequences of the different sounds for the buzzers on QI (hence “Alan goes…”, as Alan’s buzzer is usually rigged for laughs). It’s probably no worse than much of what’s on YouTube, and certainly better than much. But it certainly fulfils the “ooh what’s that?” objective.
It does tie in to our shorter attention scans, these days. When Andy Warhol coined the phrase of “fifteen minutes of fame”, he wasn’t far off our current patterns, I suspect. 15 minutes is enough to see a bit of a YouTube post, look for the other variants, think you’ve learned something or seen something in full, and go off after something else.
The thing is, I can be fairly happy with a whole series of short inputs of information. It’s why I like short stories, newspaper articles, poems even. But at times, I worry that this butterfly mentality may mean I spend all my time giving you a smorgasbord of enticing, but short lived options, rather than knuckling down and giving some topics some serious attention. Even some editing eh?
Anyway, you can be sure that a Guiness Book of Records will go down well for Christmas…
November 23rd, 2007
I’m ready for next year.
This doesn’t mean I’m doing away with Christmas (although an interesting T2 article on doing without it, and music (it being annual No Music day today), for a limited period of time, in order to enjoy them more on getting them back).
A few years ago, I started my Useful Notebook option. Up til now, it’s tended to have been bought in Italy on holiday, while Esselunga had their fun covers with different fruit and veg (John Lemon and all that - lemon in JL shades). Today I braved the student union shop at Glasgow Uni, and got my notebook for next year.
Hard to choose. I could have saved rhinos buying one notebook, or used recycled tyres or drinks cartons with another. I’ve ended up with something called a Pukka Pad, which rather sounds like I’m only allowed to use it for comments relating to Jamie Oliver. However, it will do the trick for what I need.
This notebook, it’s a place of Lists. Move over Robert Crampton… I don’t have bike ride stats in (one of his Lists), but it does come in handy for noting what we’ve bought for people’s birthdays and Christmases, measurements of gaps that require furniture or shelves, that kind of thing. I’ve also used it as a place to write a bit of a diary of what we’ve done on holiday, as it’s quite nice to remember where we were when, what we saw/did, etc.
The notebook also started out as an exercise in perspective. I started the first one in 2002, having come out of a difficult six months or so before, with the view that if I thought about life differently, it might well mean I felt differently about it. (Does it ever. Fast forward to the counselling course and all that.)
In the dark days of November, and feeling a little low at the moment, it’s not bad thing to start the new book, with a sense that there will be good things in 2008. In fact, I’m sure of it - it’s one of the Big Birthday seasons that runs in both sides of the family every few years, when there’s various birthdays ending in 5 or even 0, so lots to celebrate. I’ll have been living in Edinburgh for 10 years straight (97-98 being a year teaching abroad), to add to the 4 years before that.
Lists, notebooks, they are open to interpretation. You could see it as ‘all that stuff I did’, or ‘all those things I can’t manage, and feel bad about’. I did have a separate task book, more reminders really, and have stopped using that - felt too bad at all the stuff that wasn’t happening at home, when in fact it was fine, and there was loads going on at work. At the moment, there’s a certain amount going on in both camps - for which three cheers.
But as the thirties move on, life blurs a little more, separate years are less distinct in the memory. It’s nice to note a few things, be clear where I’ve been at a certain stage in life. Noting well, and noting the good. Thankfully the memory takes over, and helps shine up the good, down play the bad. The notebook helps us remember how it felt - and how much has happened since.
November 21st, 2007
Blogs not quite flowing last night. Having had a not bad first week back after holiday, struggling a bit more this week. The Scottish greyness-that-lasts-mightily has set back in, rather than last week’s sunshine.
It’s not quite C S Lewis’ ‘always winter and never Christmas’ but the mood is a little in that direction - though given that we live so close to the coast, I doubt there’ll be any of the Lewis snow etc. of “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” sense.
But I did find myself thinking that writing is the point, whether or not it always flows. Good write, bad write, it’s still keeping the discipline going.
Now is the time of year to bury myself in a big book that gives me another country for my mind to hibernate in. Or write one. Or kick around a few ideas, like fallen leaves, and see where they pile up.
Found myself having a linguistics type thought the other day on the bus, re penetrating the ’speech streams’ - linguistics speak for the patterns of sounds we make when having conversations or just talking solo. Rather like a nano-adventure where people are swept round the body or something, maybe there’s some way for characters to ride out the streams of sounds…? Rather more research needed for that, and what can be carried on sound waves, or radio waves.
But still, even if I can capture the thoughts that seem half way interesting, even of the ‘interesting for at least 10 seconds while you mull them over’ kind of thoughts, that’s a start. Reading the ‘Mind Gym’ while on holiday re having idea generating sessions, and ways to do the idea generating before you do the assessing. Similar issue to an author who came into our office one time to do creative writing stuff - talked about imagining your internal critic a bit like a parrot on your shoulder, and knocking it off mentally when it interrupted too much.
Ideas first, shaping later. Good, bad or indifferent write comes later.
In a line of a Larkin poem, there’s the question “Where can we live but days?” I think I’ll try a bit more living in ideas, and see what comes of it.
November 20th, 2007
This weekend was a good one for reading things I could nod along with, or better.
Kate Muir took potshots at modern coffee houses no longer being places for debate and politicking, but being more about a load of hot milk. (I had been thinking of writing something about feeling excluded from seasonal Starbuck products because they all seem to be latte-based. Kate redressed the balance with reference to thick black coffee in the earlier cafes that started the trend for heated beverages being a viable alternative.)
Even better though was the article on duty versus pleasure. Now I can see you rolling your eyes already at this. But in terms of ’someone’s thinking like me’, it was a good one to read.
Basic concept: previous philosophers have suggested that we have to choose between duty and pleasure. Various others, church fathers included, have rushed in after to agree that we must choose. In fact, let us say, many say there isn’t even a choice, becasue we know what we should do.
The struggle is that duty alone gets wearing. We know that ‘all work and no play…’ but it gets harder to hold to that when work moves ever faster.
The church has also had something of a struggle with pleasure as a concept, certainly in its early days. ‘The devil finds tasks for idle hands’ will certainly keep you in homemade socks, if you take its precept literally while at home of an evening. In fact, I’m sure I can claim I got the laptop in order to keep my hands busy while watching television, but that does stray dangerously close to pleasure too…
Anyway, thankfully the writer, philosopher A C Grayling, confirms that the best option for us all is a mix of the two. Which sounds very simple and obvious, I know. But as someone who’s felt that following duty is the way to please people, and God, it’s a newer prospect to stray towards little things like going home on time - or early.
Thing is, when you start looking out for pleasure, you find that God’s provided plenty of that too. You know that I can rhapsodise for ages on the delights of food alone. Add in sunsets, birdsong, smiles of friends, those kind of things, there are lots of gentle pleasures tucked away behind all that duty. They even allow you to enter work with a smile on your face. And duty gets a lot better when you enjoy it too…
November 19th, 2007
Previous Posts