Eleven Questions

4 May

I was looking at Peggy Strack’s blog and saw this “chain letter” style set of questions. I decided to copy, paste and answer them myself since I enjoy these things and they can be very revealing (in a good way, usually). Nothing is as revealing as “Do You Really Know Me?”, the very long and involved one that was circulating when I was a student (and had more time), but eleven questions is a manageable number, so feel free to copy, paste and join in.

1. What is your favorite color?
Blue. A boring answer, but not a boring colour. I particularly like the sky above North Street in St Andrews at near dusk when you can look from the pale, pale blue – almost white – where the light lingers in the west, right down the spectrum to the deep, inky blue above the ruined cathedral in the east.

2. If you got a plane ticket – for free – to go anywhere you’d like – where would you go?
Cuba. Sizzling hot, beautiful buildings, great cocktails, the best dancing in the world.

3. Is there anything in your life you always wanted to do and never had a chance to?
I have a strange desire to travel the length of Italy on a motorbike, with my husband, stopping whenever we feel like it and discovering places to eat and stay by pure chance. We don’t have the money, and by the time we do we’ll probably have kids or be too old and creaky to do it anyway.

4. Which is your favorite old movie (let’s say older than 20 years)?
I love old films. There are too many to list so I’ll just mention a couple of overlooked ones. The Incredible Shrinking Man (does what it says on the tin, basically, but has real pathos, a great leading man and a scary fight scene with a spider) and Q Planes, a thriller with Laurence Olivier. I LOVE this film, but no-one has seen it! It’s Olivier in one of his more light-hearted roles, and it’s all terribly, terribly British. “Goodbye, darling.”

5. If you were a blonde – would blonde jokes bother you (and, of course, if you are a blonde, do you mind them? )

I’m an ex-blonde, and I am still  blonde in my mind. Blonde jokes don’t bother me. I particularly like the one about the river:

Two blondes, one on either side of the river. The first blonde spots the other and calls out, “How do I get to the other side?” The second blonde looks puzzled and then replies, “You’re on the other side.”

6. What is it that always and with 100% certainty makes you laugh?
The Four Yorkshiremen sketch from Monty Python. It literally makes the tears roll down my cheeks.

7. Where do you usually put your clothes?
If I’m wearing them tomorrow, on a chair. If they’re dirty, in the washing basket. If I’m not wearing them tomorrow and they don’t need washed, in the drawer or wardrobe. Where does my husband leave his clothes? Everywhere!

8. Does wind bother you or do you like it?
Usually I like it and find it exhilarating, but I do hate what it does to my hair, and I particularly hate it when it blows the hair into my eyes and mouth, making me blind and unable to breathe. We had a couple of really bad storms in Scotland this year. One of them, Hurricane Bawbag, trended on Twitter. I was safe and warm indoors for most of it and I have to admit that I actually quite enjoyed them!

9. What is it that you hate most about high school reunions?
I’ve never been to one. I’ve got my university reunion coming up (St Andrews). I’m a wee bit nervous but I think it will be fun. It will also be my last chance in a while to wear a ball dress!

10. Are you a cat or a dog person?
Cat. Don’t like dogs.

11. Can movies/TV make you cry easily? When was the last time?
Oh yes. It’s quite embarrassing. My husband loves making fun of me as I blub away. I even cry at books.

An example: I was once reading a library copy of Gone With the Wind and noticed little roughnesses on the final pages. I didn’t know what they were, until I read a bit further. Then my tears started dripping on the page, too, and I understood. It was lovely to have that weird, distant sort of communion with other readers of that fantastic book.

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Happy

3 May

It’s now three months that I’ve been ‘living the dream’, as my ex-colleague Mark would put it, by which I mean I’ve ditched the office job and I am splitting my time between writing and looking after my baby niece. I realised from the start that it’s a great change, but I hadn’t realised quite how great until I met up with my friend Andy in Edinburgh.

I was in the capital to do a bit of interpreting, which I do very occasionally, and arranged to meet Andy on the way home, since it had been a while – such a while, in fact, that I hadn’t seen him since he got married, and he hadn’t heard about my book. We had a nice wee ice creamwith his new wife, sitting in Princes St Gardens  (my knowledge of Edinburgh isn’t great so I have to meet people in obvious places), and afterwards Andy commented on how happy I seemed. It took me a moment to work out what he meant.

The thing is, you see, that I used to meet Andy for a coffee after meetings in Edinburgh that were part of my office job, so I would spend the entire time moaning about my job, and he would spend far less time moaning about his job, because he is a kind and patient person. This time, we talked about books and theology and Andy’s job, but the usual topic of conversation was completely absent. I hadn’t noticed, but Andy had.

My current job is not all fun. The niece can be hard work, deadlines are stressful, there are a lot of things to juggle, and sometimes it’s a real chore to make myself sit in front of the computer and write. But these are legitimate challenges of an occupation – a career – I actually enjoy. I can contemplate the future with optimism rather than dread. I am, in short, happy.

 

You can buy Leda and (Office Life and Death) on Amazon – or wherever else you choose.

Albanian Approbation

20 Apr

It is with some relief that I have received the first responses to Leda from Albania, one from an Albanian and one from an American living there. The American lady thought it captured life in Albania, while the Albanian lady mistakenly thought it was a true story, which certainly seems to confirm its realism. They also both liked the book.

It’s reassuring because, for one reason and another, I wasn’t able to have the manuscript read before it went to press by anyone who knew Albania intimately. This left me with the lingering dread that, even though I wrote most of Leda while living in Albania, there would be something in the novel so outrageously wrong that Albanians would find it ridiculous – which would rather undermine a novel that purports to inform the reader about Albania. That dread is now put to rest.

An aside: If you think “approbation” in the title is an inappropriate word for a post about people approving of my book, you probably need to look up the definition. It’s a word that’s more misused than used correctly, to the extent that I think it is doomed to change its definition and mean exactly the same as “opprobrium” (with which it is confused). In that case, this post may have historical value; it may be the final place on the internet where it is used to mean approval rather than disapproval. You read it here last!

Penny for Your Whistle

16 Apr

You may remember, if you cast your mind back several weeks, that this Lent I decided to take up the tin whistle. At the start of the period I could play a scale but not much more than that. I resolved to practise every day. Did I keep it up?

Yes, I did! And with the help of a nice online Jesuit priest I can now play three proper Irish tunes and even put in a couple of simple ornamentations, the cut and the hit. I got so into the whole business that I bought a second whistle to replace the one that I had let my baby niece play with (i.e. bash off things). I’m keeping both of them, though, because the original nickel one is much better for fast things, like jigs, while the new brass one is better for the slow tunes.

As proof of my efforts, I have attempted to upload a video of myself playing “The Star of the County Down”, but WordPress doesn’t seem to like videos. Nothing daunted, Ihave uploaded to YouTube and embedded a link below. It’s not terribly thrilling, but you are perfectly welcome to have a look.

Sightly Thoughts on Gruntlement

31 Mar

Many years ago, during English Language A-Level, a friend and I began thinking about words that have no positive equivalents. Unintentional, for instance, corresponds to intentional, but what does unsightly correspond to? I’ve never heard anyone describe anything as ‘sightly’.

The list is longer than you might think. It all started with disgruntled – a great word in itself, but wouldn’t gruntled be good, too? Ruthless and reckless attracted our attention as well. The Government should be running a campaign urging us all to drive reckfully.

A lot of these are what called fossil words – words that are preserved inside other words, in this case their negative versions. Reck, ruth and gorm used to actually be things, and people would use them in sentences, but they have died out, leaving only confusing traces in reckless, ruthless and gormless.

The issue sprang back to mind many years later because someone on the radio ticked Madonna off for singing “nothing’s indestructible”, criticising the phrase as a double negative. Leaving aside the fact that the criticism was based on a misunderstanding of the double negative rule (which is itself a silly rule), what was she supposed to have said? “Everything is destructable”? Is that a word?

Below is the list of these positive equivalents that are never used, as far as I know. It is nowhere near exhaustive and suggestions for additions will be considered ruthfully.

(The friend, by the way, was Kerry Smallman, who these days produces weird European house music,  and very good poetry, if you want to check it out.)http://www.myspace.com/kerryandcasio

AdvertantGormful
AimfullyGruntled
Card (as in discard)Gusting (As in disgusting, not as in wind.)
ChoateHapless
CombobulatedKempt
ConcertingMolish
CouthMoralised (as an adjective)
DefatigableNominious
DestructablePointful
DignationPudent
DisestablishmentarianismPunity
DolentReckful
DupitablyRuthful
EffableScathed (although we do have scathing)
EluctableSightly
ErtSolent
EvitableSouciance
FeckfulVincible
GainlyWieldy

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Book Touring and Village Craving

23 Mar

I am back from my mini ‘book tour’, taking in three venues in Sheffield – CLC bookshop, All Saints C of E and Sheffield High School. All the events went well, for which I am grateful to God, and a little bit embarrassed about my preceeding lack of faith.

My trip was nearly derailed before it started, however, due to the route I took to get to Sheffield. I unwittingly got on the slow train from Manchester instead of the fast one. Time wasn’t the issue because I had plenty to spare, but the slow train goes through the Hope Valley, the location of some of the most beautiful scenery and most charming looking villages in Derbyshire.

One of them is Edale, a lovely place all nestled below impressive hills, just asking to he climbed, and with an inviting pub right next to the station. Half the train seemed to get off there, people with rucksacks, maps and smiles, and even though I was due in Sheffield, it was as much as I could do not to follow them off the train and into the pub.

Duty prevailed, of course, as it always does with me, but I’ll have to go back to Edale sometime. Maybe I could set a story there and then I’d have to visit for ‘research’. In the meantime I’ll just add it to my list of astonishingly achievable life’s ambitions.

 

Update: I haven’t set a story in Edale yet, but I have set one in the charming fictional village of Haddleford. It’s currently free at Smashwords.

Running for Cover by K C Murdarasi

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The Hound of Heaven

17 Mar

By pure chance I have come across the most wonderful poem. I was invited to a concert by Matthew Todd, a talented tenor, and the main piece was a musical arrangement of Francis Thompson’s poem The Hound of Heaven. You can use the link to read the whole text of the poem and I would encourage you to because it’s astonishingly good.

The Hound of Heaven was written at the end of the nineteenth century, and it has the grandeur of Victorian art and poetry combined with the emotional immediacy and general weirdness of early twentieth century poetry. It is reminiscent of T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land at times, but also of Charles Kingsley and even of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (especially the bit where Thompson talks about his lost youth).

I would quote my favourite bits, but it was written in an era before soundbites, so they tend to have to be quoted with their surrounding lines, or even whole verse, in order to make sense. This is being written in the era of smartphones, and my thumbs would seize up. I will just quote a couple of wee bits though, albeit out of context:

“I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,”

and the opening line, which sends shivers down my spine:

“I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;”

Brilliant! And if that has tempted you, do yourself a favour by clicking the link above, and read the whole thing.

Leda Grows Legs

7 Mar

I’ve just been looking at all the places my novel, Leda, appears on the internet, and it’s quite surprised me. Not only is it available in Australia and New Zealand (with free shipping, apparently), it’s also in the e-catalogue of Jefferson County Public Library in (I presume) the USA.

It feels quite strange seeing my book fending for itself in the big, wide world. The first hundred copies or so were sold directly so I knew who bought them. Now I just see numbers on a screen and have no idea where they’ve gone. I haven’t seen it in physical bookshops yet (well to be honest, I haven’t looked yet) but I expect that will be quite a weird experience, too. It’s strange enough seeing books by Robert Low in Waterstones, and he’s only a friend’s husband. (He writes war sagas – vikings, Robert the Bruce and so on. Not for haemophobics, but a good read for those with strong stomachs.)

I know that eventually, for Leda to be a success, it has to be bought by lots of people who don’t know me. They may know a little about me (I’ve had articles in the Glaswegian, Yorkshire Post and Housing Scotland Today, so far) but I can’t turn on the emotional pressure with these people I’ll never meet, to persuade them to buy. Leda will have to stand on her own two feet – or fall. I’m pretty confident she’ll stand. She’s a tough wee girl.

Musical Lent

26 Feb

So, Lent has rolled around again. I was thinking about what to give up, but nothing made much sense so I’ve decided to do what I did last year and take up a committment instead. Last year it was reading John Stott’s The Cross of Christ. This year, I’m going to practice the tin whistle every day.

I bought one a few months ago because it was only a couple of quid and tin whistle music does sound great, but I’ve not done much with it. In fact it gets most use from my baby neice bashing it on the ground or chewing the wrong end. I intend to rectify that, for the next six weeks at least.

This one will be harder to keep up, since if I only remember at 11pm that I haven’t done it that day, it will probably annoy the neighbours more than reading a chapter of a book. Still, I’m managing so far even if it’s only a couple of scales, so we’ll see how it goes. Maybe I’ll be appearing at the next Celtic Connections…

EK OK

17 Feb

I’ve spent most of the last few days in East Kilbride, and it felt like a very long week. East Kilbride, or EK, is a town outside Glasgow. It has an older ‘village’ section (so I’m told) but most of it is post-war, with more than its fair share of block-like 60s monstrosities of architecture and civil engineering. The town centre is composed of a large shopping and some car parks.  EK is ugly, there’s no way around it.

On top of that it has its own micro-climate, which is awful. If it rains in Glasgow, it sleets in EK; if it snows in Glasgow, EK is snowed-in for months and has to survive on tinned sardines; and it is always blowing a gale. I exaggerate, of course, but honestly, the weather is terrible. And while you are fighting your way through the elements you always seem to be going uphill, because flat roads are as rare in EK as sunny days.

This is why my few days in EK were quite trying – this, and the fact that hills and weather seem worse when you’re pushing a pram at an hour when you would rather be on bed. But what this week has also shown me is why East Kilbride is such a popular place to live – and it is; the town is full of new housing estates because people are falling over themselves to move there.

Mainly its that housing is cheaper here than in Glasgow, but it’s easily commutable. It’s not just that, though. I have found people here to be friendly and helpful, perhaps even more than in Glasgow. The town is sympathetically laid out for pedestrians, as well as motorists: footpaths cut up, down and across every hill, making handy shortcuts and safer walking. Even the hideous (and imaginatively named) East Kilbride Shopping Centre is an asset when you consider the weather outside.

And in the station just now, as I was writing this, a woman exclaimed “Jesus Christ!”, a man remonstrated “Excuse me – that’s the name of the Lord”, and the woman, instead of giving him a filthy look or a mouthful of worse language, simply apologised. How many places would that happen? East Kilbride may be physically ugly, but in other ways it’s no eyesore.

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