Second Person, Present tense

(Written Friday 18^th January 2013; 16:45)

This is an exercise. I’m writing to you. You may know who I am. I may know you. If you do, then you know that parts of this are made up. On the other hand, maybe they are real too. Two aspects of writing which I hardly ever use are “second person” – You and “present tense”. I have decided to combine the two into this passage, as an exercise. I expect the result to be mildly uncomfortable both in the writing and the reading. I hope it will have a kind of immediacy. We’ll see!

I’ve planned this passage in my head. Not word for word, but the headings and the flow. I’m going to try and write it in one go, with little or no correction except for obvious mistakes and spelling errors.

Here I am, sitting looking across at you. The room is dark, lit only by the coals glowing in the grate and the hurricane lamp standing on the mantelpiece.  Some while ago you told me that you had taken to wearing a dressing gown. In my mind’s eye I have transformed this into a luxurious robe; the fabric is embroidered with a rich pattern which I can’t make out properly in the darkness. The collar and cuffs are trimmed with ermine. You are sitting in a high wing-backed chair, to the right of the fireplace and you have an embroidered smoking cap on you head. The tassel of the cap is hanging down on the side nearest me. Naturally, you’re smoking. Perhaps you’re surprised to learn that you are smoking a churchwarden pipe, which is long enough to sit comfortably in your right hand which is resting on the arm of the your chair. Each time you inhale I can see the tobacco in the bowl of the pipe glow brightly and then the brightness subsides.

On your feet you are wearing large fluffy “Garfield” slippers. I don’t know why I should think that you are, but it seems appropriate.

Maggie is sitting on your lap. From time to time I can see the firelight reflected in her eyes.  It is a strange mixture of colours; red when it reflects from the surface of the eyes and green when it reflects from the back (the retina). She is smoking a pipe as well. She has her left paw tucked under her and her right paw is in front of the, supporting the pipe. Naturally, her pipe is a little smaller. It has a meerschaum bowl with what I think is a curved amber stem.

I am sitting on the settee in front of the fire. The room seems to be a little larger than I remembered it, but that is a strange effect of the darkness. Outside the area illuminated by the fire it is difficult to see the boundaries of the room. In my imagination it could reach out to infinity. I don’t think it does because it does not feel cold. Maybe it should feel cold, because I get the impression that it is snowing outside.

On the table beside you there is a glass. When you lift it the amber liquid catches the firelight and sparkles.

If it is snowing outside, it must be winter. It is not cold in here. Everything is calm and comfortable.

(Finished 17:10, Pages: 1, Words: 569)

Moonlight

(Written Wednesday 9^th January 2013; 18:55)

The room was bright when he woke. As usual he had gone to bed leaving the bedroom curtains open and the light of the full moon flooded in. Keeping his body under the blankets he shuffled upwards so that he could look out of the window. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room said that it was well past midnight.

Reluctantly he slipped out of bed and knelt on the rug. He pulled the chamber-pot from beneath the bed and pissed in it. He felt relief flooding through him as the stream of urine struck the white enamel.

Curious, he decided to go and look out of the window. The bare floorboards beyond the rug were cold beneath his feet. When he reached the window, he paused and looked towards the horizon. The moon was high in the sky.

On a whim, he opened the French windows and stepped onto the balcony. The stone wall around it was lower than one might expect. It was barely higher than his knee The architect had been more concerned with the appearance from the ground than with safety. Casually he stepped over the wall so that he was sitting astride the parapet. Surprisingly the air felt warm. He brought his other leg over and sat facing outwards with both heels resting on the ledge at the base of the wall. He studied the moon. Slowly he rose and stepped forward. The night air was firm and resilient, like turf or an expensive carpet. After a moment's pause he began striding forwards and started climbing confidently towards the moon. He walked with measured paces. There was no need to hurry. After all, he had the rest of the night.  

 (Finished 19:10, Pages: 1, Words:250)

Let it be. Randomness

I overlooked this

(Written Sunday28^th October 2012; 11:07)

I only have till 11:30. I’m not going to dwell on the problems, I’m just going to write. I’ve going to try and be positive, no ranting or raving, just writing.

I started having more thoughts about “The funeral”, and how it could be built into a story. It seems to me it is a beginning, probably of the book and possibly a prologue before the main plot takes over. It could also have an epilogue as well which would be digging it up again. I think the theme is going to be “manipulation”. Somebody or something is making things happen; not controlling them, that is not what they want to do, but guiding them. Make this an alternative history or fantasy where someone is guiding things in the direction they want. They don’t always succeed, but they have enormous power which, for some unspecified reason, they are reluctant, unwilling or unable to use. The text can be an opportunity to speculate about the nature of gods and free-will.

Some of the chapters could be shaped around ritual. There is no need to make it obvious, I’m not trying to reproduce the ritual, simply use it as a source.  I can note down the bits I can use as an aid-memoire elsewhere.

That’s better. My mind is flowing a little more freely now. I don’t feel as “stuck” as I did earlier this morning. Time to get off to the cooking though. I would like to get that started and then I can come back here.

(Breaking off: 11:20, Resumed:... )

Letter to...

Here's the anonymised text of a letter I wrote today

Xxxxxxx,

Isle of Xxxxxxx

Argyll

Scotland

23^rd November 2012

Dear Aaaaa,

                It’s a different address at the top. I’m up here for a week “chilling”. That’s chilling in both senses of the word! It’s beautiful but my goodness it can be cold.

                I’m staying with my cousin Qqqqq. “Xxxxxxx” is the name of the house where she lives, out in the wilds. It’s pronounced (locally,  so I suppose that must be right) “Cairn-na-xxxxx”. The first bit is obvious enough “Pile of stones of…” but nobody is sure what the rest means. The commonest explanation is that it is “xxxxx’s Cairn”, that fits the pronunciation, but not the spelling, and there is no known association of “xxxxx” with the island. There is general agreement that whatever the name is, it is a slamming together of Gaelic “Cairn-na-” and something else, probably from another language, and that could be English, Scots or Norse.  It’s one of life’s puzzles, and likely to remain so.

                Whatever it’s called, the view from the place is spectacular, in every direction: East and West I can see the sea, North and South Rocky hills. To the west is the island of Mmmm, very mountainous and to the east Kkkk.

                I don’t know whether I shall get this finished, printed and posted before I leave the island, but you will know by looking at the stamp: if it is UK, then it was posted in Scotland; if it is Irish then the letter came back to Ireland with me and was posted there.

                Like I said, I’m up here “chilling”.  I felt like a trip up here to see the relatives, and Qqqqq was happy to have me. She works at a poultry (egg) farm on the mainland. She gets a ferry at around 8 in the morning, drives 10 miles to work and then returns in the evening and gets home a little after 6. She has a car on the mainland and one here. It’s a long day and if the weather delays here on the island she can lose hours (or even a whole day’s pay). I haven’t asked her what will happen if she gets stranded on the mainland, and I’m not going to. It’s certainly not an easy life for a single woman. During the day I am left of my own devices. This is the house which Qqqqq was brought up in, and I can see the Farm which my Grandfather took out a lease on in 1916 (!), so you can see that the family connection with the area is pretty strong. The house is constructed from two stone buildings (one the original house, one a stone barn) joined together by a wooden “covered way” in an “H” shape. The house could really do with some serious maintenance. It isn’t falling down, but it is cold, draughty and damp. Qqqqq does a good job keeping the place clean, tidy and homely, but it must be a struggle. In the house end, the living room and the downstairs bedroom where Qqqqq sleeps are nice (although you have to think about how to keep the places you want to be at the right temperature). The kitchen is an ice-box, and the two bedrooms upstairs have been relegated to attics (even the electrics have been stripped out, and the stairs up there have been covered  at landing level to  keep downstairs warmer). In the barn end, where I sleep, only one of the 3 bedrooms is habitable (and is actually quite nice, if chilly). The bathroom is usable but…

 The work required on the house is real “building”, rather than the DIY and decorating which I’m up to. Qqqqq doesn’t have the money and the island Trust, which is her landlord doesn’t either, so she will just have to wait for things to improve. I had hoped to do a little maintenance work for her, but as it happens things weren’t ready so I’ve been excused that. I’m sorry, and not sorry at the same time. Sorry the work won’t be done (and I would probably have enjoyed doing it), but not sorry that I don’t have to mess about outside in the weather.

If the house was mine, and I had unlimited budget, I would give it a complete refurbishment. Probably hire Kevin McCloud as a consultant and find a local architect. It would make a good Grand Designs. I think the approach I would take is to re-furb each of the stone buildings in turn and then completely replace the covered way with something of similar appearance, but different construction. Given where it is, I would emphasise weather-proofing, insulation and self-sufficiency. The south facing roofs of the stone buildings are not visible from the road, so that gives scope for solar water heating and photovoltaic cells. We’re half-way up a hill, on an island, so a wind-turbine is an obvious possibility. Water is never going to be a problem! The end result would look very similar to way it does now. At the barn end, the ceiling height of the rooms is really way too high. Also the existing internal walls are all stud-work, so I would regard that as completely disposable. There is a wooden floor which I expect was used for levelling, but it isn’t great quality. I would take advice from an architect and consider lowering the ceiling height and creating more bedrooms upstairs. So, at present the house (both bits) has a total of 6 bedrooms, of which only 2 are really habitable. The others I would only give to real hard cases who had arctic, four-seasons sleeping bags and camp beds. I think there is potential for 9 to 12 bedrooms etc. It’s never going to happen that way, but I certainly enjoyed writing about it. Qqqqq has dreams of having a B and B here. The house just isn’t acceptable at the present (except to afore-mentioned hard-cases, and I suppose I may be included among them), but I hope she gets to something like it in the end. She deserves it.

(And it’s 13:35, and there’s the afternoon ferry to Yyyyyy in Xxxx passing)

Meanwhile back in Ireland,  Siobhan and Margaret are doing “work experience” the week I’m away. Siobhan is helping out at the Infant’s school down in the town. On the day I left, she had drawn a giraffe on the wall (the giraffe is holding a measuring tape for “how tall am I”). Margaret is at the garden centre across the road. So far, she has been watering plants in poly-tunnels and has learned how to operate the till. Ironically, I’ve been involved in creating two point-of-sale systems, but I’m not sure I could operate a shop till! Noreen is still working at the school. She seems to be endlessly marking books. They’re all fit and well and I hope they are feeding properly. They should be,  I left the fridge well stocked.

One of the things I’m doing while I’m away in Scotland is writing up a “business plan” for something over in Ireland. I have to confess I’m struggling, but it’s getting done. This is a good place to work. I may push the “go” button this month (for a January start).

As usual, I’ve included some clippings from the local papers:

David Bowie – Has continued to rise in my estimation: weird? yes, but undoubtedly creative and influential. It seems he may have decided to retire, or is this just another “stage persona”?

The Rolling Stones – They’re a good blues band, but I always said Jagger was more of an accountant than a rock star.

Curative Well – Well, what does one say? I hope they didn’t ever dose you with lithium. I always thought that lithium was more of a sedative and anti-psychotic, but maybe it has anti-depressant properties as well. By the way “TG4” is the Irish Language channel.

Fearless Felix -  What does one say? The kind of thing he does only goes wrong once.

Sulky Racing (*2) – What does one say?

Regards,

Old Boar

Interview at Royal Exchange Buildings and 1.5 pints of beer

(7th October 2012 Signing on at 14:21)

My first proper contact with British Steel was before I went to University or sat my A Levels. I can’t remember when exactly it was, although I may be able to work it out. For some reason which isn’t really clear to me, I had decided that I wanted a sponsorship deal for going through University. This may have been because I fancied the money, but I think there was something else going on. Anyway, I wasn’t particularly fussy, so I applied to all the companies I could find who were sponsoring students taking degrees in the subjects I was interested in (that means Chemistry and Chemical Engineering). I know I got a fair number of interviews.

My interview for British Steel was in Middlesborough. Looking back, It was quite an adventure getting the train up there. Tube from Hatton Cross (I expect), train from Kings Cross up to Darlington and change there for the local train to Middlesborough.

I can remember looking out of the window at the industrial landscape from Darlington to Middlesborough. At the time, the buildings seemed huge. Enormous, corrugated iron sheds, with fierce glowing lights visible through gaps.

At that time the British Steel Offices where in Royal Exchange buildings which were very close to Middlesborough station. It was only a short walk.

I don’t remember much about the interview, but a couple of things stand out:

The interview as in two parts: an interview and then an aptitude test. The interview I can’t remember at all! The aptitude test was after lunch, and lunch had not been provided. I went out into town and visited a pub to get lunch. I was only just eighteen. The first pub had no food, neither had the second, and at the third they had pizza. So, that was lunch; three halve of beer (surely not three pints?) and a slice of pizza.

After lunch I had an aptitude test which included what I think was an IQ test, plus things involving doing tasks with both my right and left hands. Whatever the effects of the beer were, they weren’t too detrimental  because I got the job! 

Fifteen Minutes Writing

(Sunday 7^th October 2012 12:17)

I’ve got to put the potatoes on for lunch at 12:30. Okay, that isn’t exactly 15 minutes, but then cooking potatoes isn’t an exact science and neither is writing

.

This is the first time in a little while I’ve tried the “free association” writing exercises. I wonder if a quarter of an hour is long enough for anything interesting to surface.  Last night someone’s name came into my head. Someone I hadn’t had anything to do with for thirty-five years, and I decided to put the name into Google. It is an unusual name and it looks like they wrote a book in 1974! The name is unusual and the location matches. It’s surprising what can surface unexpectedly. It is doubly surprising what you can find when you combine what surfaces from the unconscious with the search power of Google (or the search engine of your choice of course).

That’s better! I can feel the muscles or pathways inside my mind starting to loosen up. It is getting easier to write. I know I have only allowed myself 15 minutes now, of which only five remain, but I will continue this in the afternoon. After a little while of stuck-ness, things are starting to move again. I shouldn’t expect things to be easy. Even small amounts of movement help. That is why I do these exercises. Write and write. There does not have to be a subject or a reason. Simply write to get it out of my system (whatever “it” is). I’m not sure if I even have a reader in mind. The reader does not have to be me, it does not have to be anybody. Keep going, keep writing. Something may emerge from the depths. Already I find the most surprising things. Some are good, some are less so. Just now, without warning or planning I managed to correct a little problem with had been irritating me for days. Now it is fixed. The mental energy it was using can be directed to something more useful.

(signing off 12:30)  

(signing on 13:28)

Okay, it’s no longer going to be fifteen minutes but it is going to be writing. Let’s see what happens. I just distracted myself by looking up Herman Miller chairs. They may be ergonomic and comfortable, but they are also very expensive. I don’t think I will be buying one of those for a while. Back to the writing, but thinking about ergonomics; I think I will take a bit more action about getting a footrest. I find that my posture is better when I have a footrest. That means that I write more easily even using the fairly basic (but fundamentally comfortable) chair that I’m using at the moment. On my next maintenance trip to Feltham I may collect the office chair that was left there. It was comfortable too. Even when new, I doubt it cost as much as a Herman Miller, and I bought it very second (or third) hand, many years ago.

The little bit of tidying I did in the kitchen was a real surprise. It came out of the blue. To one side of the hob there used to be an accumulation of spice bottles. It’s nice to have them handy, but even the most complicated recipe only ever used one or three. For no particular reason I looked in the cupboard beneath that section of the worktop. It was empty. A quick rummage upstairs and I found a plastic basket which fitted nicely into the cupboard. Now the spice bottles are in the basket in the cupboard and the work-surface is clear. It was only ever a minor irritation, but now it is gone and I feel good about it. Similarly, I’ve moved a laminator with has been sitting abandoned on the landing for months to a shelf in my study. A tiny change, but again it makes me feel good. I’m not a particularly tidy person but I like tidiness. It makes me feel comfortable. I don’t like clutter or noise. I’ve liked noise less since I became hard-of-hearing and I think that perhaps the dislike of auditory noise has spilled across into my dislike of visual clutter.

(pausing, to do the washing up: 13:46)

(Washing up done, restarting: 14:05)

While doing the washing up I started thinking about how one thing, or thought, leads to another. Better be careful about names. I’m not going to write down the name I looked up. It is too recognisable, if you recognise it! I don’t know why it came into my head. It certainly wasn’t really connected to anything I was doing or thinking about. That in turn has made me start to think about what I did when I was working for British Steel, in particular at Lakenby and Redcar. That is a period in my life when I was quite optimistic and excited by the prospects for the future. I liked the work I was doing and I liked the people I was working with. I was ambitious. I also liked where I was living. Yarm was, and is, an attractive little village. It’s not too far from the Teesside towns either. The only cloud on my horizon at that time was the economic situation (rather like now). It was clear that, right or wrong, British Steel was no longer going to receive the support it had been receiving and that meant that it was going to contract.  I have set aside titles elsewhere to write about things to do with British Steel. Perhaps I should go there now. Yes, that is what I will do. Continuing elsewhere.

(Ending 14:15 950 words, 1.5 pages)

Rambling on. Relaxation and space.

(Monday 17^th September 2012 18:38)

Here we go. Let’s see what comes up. There is nothing in my mind in particular. There is no subject that I have in mind. Then I thought of the “Stay Puff Mallow man” from Ghostbusters. Don’t think of that!

I’m going to try thinking of nothing. Nothing can be emptiness and I can think of that. But can I think of nothing a write at the same time? Even if I am writing about nothing, I am also thinking about the writing, therefore, maybe I’m not thinking about nothing! What a load of non-sense. Still, the exercise is amusing me.

I want to wash my mind free of the day’s activities. It was quite productive, but I want to think of something else now.

In the last couple of days I have cleared a number of small things away. None of it was particularly earth shattering, but I feel the benefit of looking at the clear space on the shelf I just glanced over at. I also like the fact that there is more clear space on my desk. When I have done the current batch of administrative tasks I am going to get myself a small filing cabinet and use that to conceal the papers that I do not need immediate access to. This is a sort of spiritual Feng Shui. I am creating space in my physical environment as a way of creating space in my inner environment. I am creating space in my mind. I am creating space for my unconscious to work in.

When I have written this piece I am going to look up Feng Shui on the internet. I know that it has principles but I don’t really know what those principles are. I would like to know. I don’t expect I will follow the principles slavishly, but I would like to know what they are.

I’ve just paused to put a CD in the computer. It’s “Another Day on Earth” by Brian Eno. I like it as background. I’m listening on headphones, so nobody else can hear. I’ve also lit an incense stick (Joss-stick), so that is filling my nostrils with scent.

This exercise is proving a little harder this evening than I expected. I had expected to shoot off at a tangent, but that doesn’t seem to have happened. Instead, this evening, I’m having to prod the thoughts from time to time.

Yesterday I listened to a recording of a BBC presentation of JRR Tolkien’s “The Hobbit”. Actually I listened to it over a number of the previous days because it is 4 hours of recording. I have “The Lord of the Rings” as well. That is 13 hours! I am looking forward to “The Hobbit” film(s). I will go and watch them when they come out.

Now there is one of Eno’s songs in the background (“And then so clear”). The words have a strange quality; part non-sense, part poetic.  The evoke an emotional response in me but I don’t know what they mean:

“And then so clear to wonder, to wake with open eyes, like the snow across the tundra or the rain across the sky.”

It is interesting that words like that should produce any response at all. I’ve only managed to type a page so far. This evening it seems to be a struggle to write. But that is a good reason for persisting with it. Keep on keeping on. I want to write a little more.

What have I done today? I made good progress with an admin task that I want to get completed by the end of the month. I will review what I have done tomorrow and then complete the forms. That will mean that I have the whole of Wednesday to prepare for the course session on Thursday evening. If I get that all done on Wednesday, then I can move on to the next admin task on Thursday, during the day and get ahead of myself for the course session in the evening.

Hmm. It is starting to flow a little better now. Shall I set myself a target of pages or time? If I set pages, and set the target too high it becomes a blockage. If I set a page target too low, then it isn’t really a target. Similarly, time targets can encourage me to “cheat”. But is it really cheating? After all, the rules are mine, therefore I can change them if I wish. The point is, that I want to train myself to “write” a certain amount.

I am going to get myself a better footrest some time. I find it is more comfortable to have something to rest my feet on when I am writing. I suppose the ideal would be one of those proper typist’s footrests. They are adjustable and I expect they are very comfortable. I could make one but I can’t really be bothered and I suspect that if I did that I would be using it as an excuse to not do something else. I think that a simple wedge of firm foam would be more than adequate. Ideally I would like to cover it in some kind of fabric. Where could I buy a wedge of foam from? If I was still in London, I can think of at least one place which would probably be able to supply such a thing (providing of course that they are still trading).

I have got a certain amount of pleasure from writing letters. As I didn’t receive a confirmation that my note to Max and Christine had been read, I will have to assume that they have not received it. Alan said that Max led quite a cloistered life these days. I can quite believe that. I shall write to Max before the end of the month. I will do the admin tasks first, so that I’m not using it as a distraction.

I’m developing a slight ache in my right side. That suggests to me that I’m not sitting properly at the desk. So, body is giving me further encouragement to get the footrest (and maybe, if I can find a new source of income, a good chair to sit on). But I’m not going to let myself use that as an excuse to stop immediately. I’m not going to force myself to type so much that it causes me real pain and possibly injury but I am going to push on a little further. Just a little more.  I’ve passed the thousand word mark.

One thing that continues to surprise me is that most of what I write is reasonably grammatically correct. Or at least, it is correct according to the checker in Word! Maybe I shouldn’t trust the machine quite so much!  

There! For all practical purposes, that is the bottom of the second page. I’m going to write a few more sentences to fill in the remaining space and then do a little research on the internet: two authors and Feng Shui to look up. One of the authors was one of the “beat generation” and the other is a young woman who has been publishing her work on the internet.

(signing off 19:27 Words: 1218, Pages: 2)