Just heard this on the radio, and realised this is one of my favourite falling in love songs, so I should probably use it, if not in this book, but one day. In the meantime, here's a song for Friday. I defy it not to cheer you up. Which is a bit
of an odd concept I know, with the Cure (I still think one of the funniest things on the Mary Whitehouse Experience was their pisstake of miserable Cure songs), but this really is fab.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Ok Can't resist.
Here are all the songs I mentioned. Enjoy...
Starting with Billy and White Wedding. Couldn't find the original, but the guitar on this is fab.
And here's a very old version of the Damned. A bit crackly but how I love that gothic camp!
Simple Minds doing a live version of Don't You Forget About Me
Pet Shop Boys also live doing Always on my Mind
Wire to Wire. You can have it again. I'm generous like that.
You Know I'm no Good. Amy Winehouse. Writes perfect how to fuck your life up songs.
One I forgot - also for Caz, Oh Daddy By Fleetwood Mac. God I love this song.
Go Your Own Way. Ultimate break up song. Enough said.
Gold Dirt Woman. Rumours was the best album ever. Discuss.
Songbird. See what I mean. And I haven't even included The Chain.
Man with the Child in his Eyes. Never sure about nutty old Kate Bush. But I do love this, and I don't know why.
Pure. Pure and simple all the time. Cos it just is.
And finally Hurt because it is so goddamned brilliant.
Starting with Billy and White Wedding. Couldn't find the original, but the guitar on this is fab.
And here's a very old version of the Damned. A bit crackly but how I love that gothic camp!
Simple Minds doing a live version of Don't You Forget About Me
Pet Shop Boys also live doing Always on my Mind
Wire to Wire. You can have it again. I'm generous like that.
You Know I'm no Good. Amy Winehouse. Writes perfect how to fuck your life up songs.
One I forgot - also for Caz, Oh Daddy By Fleetwood Mac. God I love this song.
Go Your Own Way. Ultimate break up song. Enough said.
Gold Dirt Woman. Rumours was the best album ever. Discuss.
Songbird. See what I mean. And I haven't even included The Chain.
Man with the Child in his Eyes. Never sure about nutty old Kate Bush. But I do love this, and I don't know why.
Pure. Pure and simple all the time. Cos it just is.
And finally Hurt because it is so goddamned brilliant.
Music and Lyrics Part 3: Soundtracking the story
I have just accidentally deleted a very long post I was writing about this, which is deeply frustrating as I have spent ages explaining the way my odd mind works. Never mind. Let me start again...
I previously wrote two posts about how music inspires my writing here and here, but thanks to general busyness, haven't got round to writing about how I actually use it to create my stories.
The way I choose and use songs is a bit of an organic process, a little bit rambly and probably makes no sense to anyone but me, but here goes.
The first thing I'm looking for I suppose, is songs with emotional heart, the sort of songs that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. This is obviously a very personal thing, and some of the songs that have that effect on me, may be different from your favourites, but as its the emotion I'm after, hopefully that shouldn't matter.
The current book I'm working on is about weddings. Given that I have now been married for nearly 20 years, it's a bit of a challenge to remember exactly how I felt when I was newly in love(though I can remember EXACTLY how I felt on my wedding day), so I've gone back to some songs from the soundtrack to my own courtship to help me reconnect with the emotions I think my characters should be feeling. The first song inevitably, I suppose is Billy Idol's White Wedding, I first heard it at a time when marriage was the farthest thing from my mind, but I was contemplating a long and lonely summer away from Spouse, so for me its always had a bitter sweet feel. And for two of my characters, unsure of the choices they've made, it's a perfect fit. I think it sums up particularly well that feeling of being on a rollercoaster ride which you can't get off, which I'm sure most brides experience in the run up to the wedding.
Hey little sister what have you done
Hey little sister who's the only one
Hey little sister who's your superman
Hey little sister who's the one you want
Hey little sister shot gun!
It's a nice day to start again
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.
The hour is late and you know that time waits for no-one
See the glow of the soul in her face
Then you know that you're caught in the shadow of love
A brief embrace and fear and restraint have all gone
Innocence burns, -yes a fire that burned all along
See the doors about to swing both ways
See the answer mirrored in her gaze
Then you know that you're caught in the shadow of love
As I'm sure is common for most people, the course of true love didn't run exactly smooth for us, so after that summer apart, Spouse and I split up, I thought at the time, forever (ha, little did I know!). When we finally got back together, we danced to Simple Minds Don't You Forget About Me, and I still cannot hear it without feeling a churning of emotions: excitement, fear, joy, anxiety all rolled into one, all of which I hope to use for all my characters at some point.
Don't You Forget About Me
Don't Don't Don't Don't
Don't You Forget About Me
Will you stand above me?
Look my way, never love me
Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling
Down, down, down
A similar tale is attached to Always on my Mind by the Pet Shop Boys. When I finished uni, Spouse still had a year to go, and I headed off to the bright lights and big city genuinely unsure that we would make it through the year. That we did, in part, was a result of this song. We're all guilty of taking our loved ones for granted, and sometimes that's a difficult thing to admit. So this song is perfect for one of my characters who has a good marriage, but is keeping secrets from her husband.
Perhaps someone you know could sparkle and shine
As daydreams slide to colour from shadow
Picture the moonglow that dazzles my eyes
And I love you
Just lying, smiling in the dark
Shooting stars around your heart
Dreams come bouncing in your head
Pure and simple every time
Now, you're crying in your sleep
I wish you'd never learnt to weep
Don't sell the dreams you should be keeping
Pure and simple every time
I love that song. Such a simple but brilliant evocation of what it is to be in love.
Beth, my fourth character is the most tricky at the moment, as she is still a little in the shadows, but I'm currently thinking of Kate Bush's Man with the Child in his Eyes for her, though at this particular moment, I can't quite tell you why. That's another thing about this process. I don't always have all the answers. I just feel in my gut it's right.
And of course, I've mentioned before, Johnny Cash's Hurt is at the heart of the book, and though mainly Doris's song, it will be appropriate to all of them I feel.
Once I've worked out all the songs - and actually I can still throw in last minute ones, which I did in Last Christmas - I have them on my playlist on the computer. I often listen to the whole set while I'm fiddling about on twitter or on my blog, so that they are somewhere there embedded in my psyche, or in the case of Hurt, which in my head is very much like a soundtrack from a movie, I'll actually listen to it as I write the scene. This can be distracting sometimes, but in the case of such a powerful song I find it helps me really reach for the emotions I'm trying to portray. Whether or not I succeed in describing them is another matter of course, and that can be a frustrating part of the process for me, but hey, alot of writing is frustrating, so I can't waste too much time getting hung up about it.
When I've finished the book, other songs often occur to me as being more suitable, or just right for a particular scene or character (this happened with the character of Rob in Strictly Love who ended up with Robbie Williams Feel as his theme tune.) But what I usually find with the songs I've already chosen, is that I listen to them again as I rewrite the book, and this often helps me find an extra edge or depth to what I'm writing - at least I hope it does.
Like I say, it's an organic process, and it's one at the moment I'm just starting out on. And the best thing about it is, having really stalled badly with my writing of late, I've just discovered from my marathon Fleetwood Mac listening (and sharing with Twitter followers, particularly Marie) yesterday that music really does reenergise me and motivate me. So even if no one else notices the emotion, the fact that I've listened probably means I will finish the damned thing. Eventually...
I previously wrote two posts about how music inspires my writing here and here, but thanks to general busyness, haven't got round to writing about how I actually use it to create my stories.
The way I choose and use songs is a bit of an organic process, a little bit rambly and probably makes no sense to anyone but me, but here goes.
The first thing I'm looking for I suppose, is songs with emotional heart, the sort of songs that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. This is obviously a very personal thing, and some of the songs that have that effect on me, may be different from your favourites, but as its the emotion I'm after, hopefully that shouldn't matter.
The current book I'm working on is about weddings. Given that I have now been married for nearly 20 years, it's a bit of a challenge to remember exactly how I felt when I was newly in love(though I can remember EXACTLY how I felt on my wedding day), so I've gone back to some songs from the soundtrack to my own courtship to help me reconnect with the emotions I think my characters should be feeling. The first song inevitably, I suppose is Billy Idol's White Wedding, I first heard it at a time when marriage was the farthest thing from my mind, but I was contemplating a long and lonely summer away from Spouse, so for me its always had a bitter sweet feel. And for two of my characters, unsure of the choices they've made, it's a perfect fit. I think it sums up particularly well that feeling of being on a rollercoaster ride which you can't get off, which I'm sure most brides experience in the run up to the wedding.
Hey little sister what have you done
Hey little sister who's the only one
Hey little sister who's your superman
Hey little sister who's the one you want
Hey little sister shot gun!
It's a nice day to start again
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.
The next song is from this album by the Damned (ok, I just wanted an excuse to put up this very fine cover which I love).
The hour is late and you know that time waits for no-one
See the glow of the soul in her face
Then you know that you're caught in the shadow of love
A brief embrace and fear and restraint have all gone
Innocence burns, -yes a fire that burned all along
See the doors about to swing both ways
See the answer mirrored in her gaze
Then you know that you're caught in the shadow of love
As I'm sure is common for most people, the course of true love didn't run exactly smooth for us, so after that summer apart, Spouse and I split up, I thought at the time, forever (ha, little did I know!). When we finally got back together, we danced to Simple Minds Don't You Forget About Me, and I still cannot hear it without feeling a churning of emotions: excitement, fear, joy, anxiety all rolled into one, all of which I hope to use for all my characters at some point.
Don't You Forget About Me
Don't Don't Don't Don't
Don't You Forget About Me
Will you stand above me?
Look my way, never love me
Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling
Down, down, down
A similar tale is attached to Always on my Mind by the Pet Shop Boys. When I finished uni, Spouse still had a year to go, and I headed off to the bright lights and big city genuinely unsure that we would make it through the year. That we did, in part, was a result of this song. We're all guilty of taking our loved ones for granted, and sometimes that's a difficult thing to admit. So this song is perfect for one of my characters who has a good marriage, but is keeping secrets from her husband.
Maybe I didnt treat you quite as good as I should
Maybe I didnt love you quite as often as I could
Little things I shouldve said and done, I never took the time
You were always on my mind
You were always on my mind
This book represents a bit of a first for me, in that it is very character led, and the plot is forming as I write, rather, then as is usual for me, plotting it out first. It is both a liberating and scary way to write, so I feel the need to know my characters more then I usually do. I've started with Caz, the most difficult and unlikeable character I've yet written, who I hope will be going on a redemptive journey. I had my eye on two Razorlight songs for Caz - Before I Fall to Pieces and In the Morning, which I still may yet use. But when I stumbled on Wire to Wire, which I burbled on about yesterday, I knew I'd found the key to Caz's character.
What is love but the strangest of feelings?
A sin you swallow for the rest of your life?
You`ve been looking for someone to believe in
To love you, until your eyes run dry
She lives on disillusion road
We go where the wild blood flows
On our bodies we share the same scar
Love me, wherever you are
As Caz also has a strong self destruct button she's also getting Amy Winehouse's You Know I'm No Good
I cheated myself
Like I knew I would
I told ya, I was trouble
You know that I'm no good
I'm still working out the rest of the songs, but thanks to a complete nostalgia blitz yesterday on Twitter yesterday(thanks fellow twitterers) about Fleetwood Mac Rumours (now there's an album built for stories about the broken hearted), I'm currently looking at: Go Your Own Way/Gold Dust Woman for Sarah whose marriage is in trouble and Songbird for Doris, the optmistic joyful heart of the story. Doris is also getting Pure by the Lightning Seeds
Perhaps someone you know could sparkle and shine
As daydreams slide to colour from shadow
Picture the moonglow that dazzles my eyes
And I love you
Just lying, smiling in the dark
Shooting stars around your heart
Dreams come bouncing in your head
Pure and simple every time
Now, you're crying in your sleep
I wish you'd never learnt to weep
Don't sell the dreams you should be keeping
Pure and simple every time
I love that song. Such a simple but brilliant evocation of what it is to be in love.
Beth, my fourth character is the most tricky at the moment, as she is still a little in the shadows, but I'm currently thinking of Kate Bush's Man with the Child in his Eyes for her, though at this particular moment, I can't quite tell you why. That's another thing about this process. I don't always have all the answers. I just feel in my gut it's right.
And of course, I've mentioned before, Johnny Cash's Hurt is at the heart of the book, and though mainly Doris's song, it will be appropriate to all of them I feel.
Once I've worked out all the songs - and actually I can still throw in last minute ones, which I did in Last Christmas - I have them on my playlist on the computer. I often listen to the whole set while I'm fiddling about on twitter or on my blog, so that they are somewhere there embedded in my psyche, or in the case of Hurt, which in my head is very much like a soundtrack from a movie, I'll actually listen to it as I write the scene. This can be distracting sometimes, but in the case of such a powerful song I find it helps me really reach for the emotions I'm trying to portray. Whether or not I succeed in describing them is another matter of course, and that can be a frustrating part of the process for me, but hey, alot of writing is frustrating, so I can't waste too much time getting hung up about it.
When I've finished the book, other songs often occur to me as being more suitable, or just right for a particular scene or character (this happened with the character of Rob in Strictly Love who ended up with Robbie Williams Feel as his theme tune.) But what I usually find with the songs I've already chosen, is that I listen to them again as I rewrite the book, and this often helps me find an extra edge or depth to what I'm writing - at least I hope it does.
Like I say, it's an organic process, and it's one at the moment I'm just starting out on. And the best thing about it is, having really stalled badly with my writing of late, I've just discovered from my marathon Fleetwood Mac listening (and sharing with Twitter followers, particularly Marie) yesterday that music really does reenergise me and motivate me. So even if no one else notices the emotion, the fact that I've listened probably means I will finish the damned thing. Eventually...
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Current song obsession...
... is this. It's Wire to Wire by Razorlight, and I love it. It perfectly describes one of my characters and the destructive nature of her relationships. Am struggling a bit with the writing at the moment as I am doing something very new and keep changing my mind about exactly which way I want to go. Then I listen to this and think what the hell? So long as I can capture this emotion it will be all right on the night... (of course if I can't, then I'm in trouble.)
Monday, July 06, 2009
The show must go on...
I mentioned here, that as usual in this manically busy time of year (it's worse then Christmas I tell you), that between the kids we have had to attend six shows, and they also have four music exams. My fault for allowing them to do extracurricular stuff I know, but they do love it (-:
No 1 spent the first half of last week singing in the chorus of the school production of The Boyfriend. Every other year the school put on a big show at the local theatre, so I spent a large part of last week dropping her off and picking her up from there. As this is also the same place where all of them do drama, I ended up there every day last week apart from Thursday, and on Saturday I think we managed about four trips back and forth.
On top of that no 4 ends her year in drama class with a little presentation, which took place on Wednesday evening, finishing at 5.45pm. No 1 had to be at the theatre for 6.30pm to get ready for the show at 7.30pm. This made a bit of a problem with regards to feeding offspring. So after some discussion, Spouse and I agreed on Tuesday that I'd grab a takeaway from McDonalds nearest the theatre which closes at 6, leave no 1 behind and come home. However, never let it be said that the course of a maniac mother's life should run smooth. Spouse texted me (this is still so novel, he's only just learnt how to use a mobile phone properly) to say he was in Wilkinson's. After no 4's performance, a slightly baffling story about the seaside, I rang him to say we were heading over to McDonald's. I should add here, that we have two McDonald's, the other being in the High Street. At some point in our discussions of the previous night, I had mooted (and discounted) the possibilty of us all eating there prior to the show. However, thanks to the overbusyness of life, and a classic piece of Marital Misunderstanding, where I had understood I would be buying takeaways from the nearer Macs, Spouse had understood the opposite. Which is how we came to be in two different places and had a Moment of Major Marital Dysfunciton causing no 1 to disown us entirely...
Having eventually hooked up, we left no 1 to the fun of backstage, dashed home, fed children, watered plants, put on washing and then came back. Domestic life is such bliss sometimes.
Due to information overload at some point (can't on earth think why), I had inadvertently ordered the wrong tickets to start with. This was not helped by the fact that no 1 managed to lose cheque and order form at school, so I had a very confusing conversation with the woman running the box office as to a) what I wanted (I had completely forgotten) and b) whether or not my cheque had been cashed. The upshot was that we got seats right at the back, which was quite possibly the hottest place in the theatre.
I have seen The Boyfriend once before, when my own school put it on, and couldn't remember anything about it. The plot is pretty lame (but I have been reliably informed it's a parody), about a rich girl searching for a boyfriend, but wanting him to love her for herself not her money, but the songs are quite jolly, and I recognised most of them. For a school production the quality of the performance was very high, especially as girls were playing male roles. Over the years I have sat through any number of dire dire school shows, so this was a lot more fun. But what impressed most, I think was the enthusiasm and energy of the kids. They were fantastic, and it was almost worth seeing for that alone. I wish I could have some of their energy again. (Oh, I can't, I'm all worn out, making sure my children get to their rehearsals on time (-:)
Boyfriend over, and no 1 pulled down from the huge high she's been on for days, it was time to think about the next show, which was one she was doing with her drama group. Friday found me back at the theatre again, dropping off nos 2&3 for rehearsal for their presentation on Saturday morning, collecting them and dropping off no 1, then going back at 10pm (yes I did say 10pm, I can feel the end of my social life for the next ten years fast approaching) to get no 1, after which I certainly did pour myself a very large drink.
Saturday morning I made the mistake of thinking we could still fit swimming in. My first mistake. We got into the car at 9.50, leaving us ten minutes to nip home to pick up the gear they needed for drama. I am quite prepared to think I had been told before Friday night, when the letter came home, that they needed to be wearing black leggings, tee-shirts, and jazz shoes/plimsolls, but quite frankly the way things have been round here lately, I'm lucky if I can remember what I had for breakfast five minutes ago, so I had completely forgotten to check out the situation viz a viz shoes. My second mistake. No 2 does have a pair of jazz shoes, but no 3 doesn't. She announced five minutes before swimming that she had left her plimsolls at home. Grr. We then got back from the pool to discover that no 2 couldn't find her jazz shoes. This may also have been my fault. In my manic cleaning for the Great Party, I have clearly put her jazz shoes somewhere so incredibly safe, I can no longer find them. That memory lapse thing falling usefully into play just at a point when my brain could do with a reboot. After ten minutes fruitless searching and another moment of Major Marital Dysfunction, we dropped them to the theatre twenty minutes late. Whoops.
Then it was back home AGAIN, with just enough time for a cup of tea, before whizzing back to the theatre (I am beginning to loathe the sight of it), where I left Spouse and no 4 to watch drama, while I took no 1 to her singing exam.
No 1 loves singing, and her singing teacher seems to think she's quite good at it. I do to, the little I've heard of her, because bafflingly, I don't EVER hear her sing. She's constantly on the piano, and not enough on the guitar, but while she clearly DOES practise her singing, as the singing teacher usually seems impressed, I have no idea when. Maybe she gets up in the middle of the night when we're all asleep. Anyway, practise or no, suddenly she was a gibbering wreck, so I had to sit her down in the sunshine and say, Look what's the worst that can happen? I couldsingmajorinsteadofminorforgetmywordsbeoutoftunemissthebeat she babbled incoherently. Right. And on a scale of 1 to 10 this is how likely? No 1 seems to need me less and less, so it was nice for once to think she wanted advice from her mother...
I have no idea how it went, other then that she thought she'd done two songs better then anticipated, but at least it's now over and we don't have to worry about singing again till the autumn. Fortuitously we were able to hook up with Spouse and the others who'd finished at more or less the same time, and after a bit of necessary food shopping, we hopped home for lunch, before I was out again to take no 1 to her rehearsal and no 4 to a football party. Yes. I know she's a girl, but all her mates bar about two are boys, and sometimes she thinks she is too.
At that point I did collapse on the sofa and paid the appropriate tribute to the snoozefest that was Williams v Williams by falling asleep.
But no rest for the wicked. At 5.15 I had to rouse myself to go and pick up no4 from her party, and then after much debate (and keenly trying to avoid another Major Marital Dysfunctional Moment) we agreed to meet Lovely Sister and Niece who were coming to the show at the station and eat in a restaurant near the theatre. This was by far the least stressful option (I having no energy left to even contemplate feeding people), but we still managed to get to the show with only about a minute to spare.
The show itself was... well... baffling. Mainly. The drama group were celebrating fifteen years since their formation, so the show was a medley of all the 41 (yes I did say 41) shows they've ever done. The bits that worked were very funny, like Bugsy Malone done in Shakespearian verse, and West Side Story told in five minutes, but there were several confusing commercial breaks which no one understood, not even the performers, and the whole was a bit of a mishmash. Having said that, the quality of the singing and dancing was very high again, and there are some very very talented kids who were really impressive. No 1 had a few lines for the first time, and managed to not only put on a northern accent, but actually carry it off. Given that this time last year she sulked all the way through a performance she was in on a holiday drama scheme, it was great so see how much fun she was having and how relaxed she was. Because the best thing as far as I'm concerned about the drama group as that it has really given her confidence and boosted her self esteem, which was at a low ebb for a long time as she came to terms with switching schools.
And again, the most fun thing about the show was the energy and enthusiasm of the kids. They gave it their all, and even where it was incomprehensible, it sort of didn't matter somehow, because you could see how much fun they were having.
Yesterday, funnily enough, we didn't rise incredibly early, but we couldn't just sit around all day in our pjs, as we'd been invited to a summer party by a school mum chum. This being the only thing all weekend that I really really wanted to do, naturally I couldn't spend as long there as I'd have liked, as no 1 had booked a ticket to see Twelfth Night with the school. Being completely unable to bar my children from important cultural experiences, I had no option but to let her go. Which meant driving her and two of her friends on an hour round trip. Words failed me when we got there and she announced she'd left her ticket at home...
Still, she did enjoy the performance, and I'm glad she's beginning to get the importance of Shakespeare, so I can't really complain.
But I am gladder still that I won't be spending this week parked outside the theatre, have no plays to watch this week, and the end of term is fast approaching. Any more of this and I'll suffer from complete systems overload...
No 1 spent the first half of last week singing in the chorus of the school production of The Boyfriend. Every other year the school put on a big show at the local theatre, so I spent a large part of last week dropping her off and picking her up from there. As this is also the same place where all of them do drama, I ended up there every day last week apart from Thursday, and on Saturday I think we managed about four trips back and forth.
On top of that no 4 ends her year in drama class with a little presentation, which took place on Wednesday evening, finishing at 5.45pm. No 1 had to be at the theatre for 6.30pm to get ready for the show at 7.30pm. This made a bit of a problem with regards to feeding offspring. So after some discussion, Spouse and I agreed on Tuesday that I'd grab a takeaway from McDonalds nearest the theatre which closes at 6, leave no 1 behind and come home. However, never let it be said that the course of a maniac mother's life should run smooth. Spouse texted me (this is still so novel, he's only just learnt how to use a mobile phone properly) to say he was in Wilkinson's. After no 4's performance, a slightly baffling story about the seaside, I rang him to say we were heading over to McDonald's. I should add here, that we have two McDonald's, the other being in the High Street. At some point in our discussions of the previous night, I had mooted (and discounted) the possibilty of us all eating there prior to the show. However, thanks to the overbusyness of life, and a classic piece of Marital Misunderstanding, where I had understood I would be buying takeaways from the nearer Macs, Spouse had understood the opposite. Which is how we came to be in two different places and had a Moment of Major Marital Dysfunciton causing no 1 to disown us entirely...
Having eventually hooked up, we left no 1 to the fun of backstage, dashed home, fed children, watered plants, put on washing and then came back. Domestic life is such bliss sometimes.
Due to information overload at some point (can't on earth think why), I had inadvertently ordered the wrong tickets to start with. This was not helped by the fact that no 1 managed to lose cheque and order form at school, so I had a very confusing conversation with the woman running the box office as to a) what I wanted (I had completely forgotten) and b) whether or not my cheque had been cashed. The upshot was that we got seats right at the back, which was quite possibly the hottest place in the theatre.
I have seen The Boyfriend once before, when my own school put it on, and couldn't remember anything about it. The plot is pretty lame (but I have been reliably informed it's a parody), about a rich girl searching for a boyfriend, but wanting him to love her for herself not her money, but the songs are quite jolly, and I recognised most of them. For a school production the quality of the performance was very high, especially as girls were playing male roles. Over the years I have sat through any number of dire dire school shows, so this was a lot more fun. But what impressed most, I think was the enthusiasm and energy of the kids. They were fantastic, and it was almost worth seeing for that alone. I wish I could have some of their energy again. (Oh, I can't, I'm all worn out, making sure my children get to their rehearsals on time (-:)
Boyfriend over, and no 1 pulled down from the huge high she's been on for days, it was time to think about the next show, which was one she was doing with her drama group. Friday found me back at the theatre again, dropping off nos 2&3 for rehearsal for their presentation on Saturday morning, collecting them and dropping off no 1, then going back at 10pm (yes I did say 10pm, I can feel the end of my social life for the next ten years fast approaching) to get no 1, after which I certainly did pour myself a very large drink.
Saturday morning I made the mistake of thinking we could still fit swimming in. My first mistake. We got into the car at 9.50, leaving us ten minutes to nip home to pick up the gear they needed for drama. I am quite prepared to think I had been told before Friday night, when the letter came home, that they needed to be wearing black leggings, tee-shirts, and jazz shoes/plimsolls, but quite frankly the way things have been round here lately, I'm lucky if I can remember what I had for breakfast five minutes ago, so I had completely forgotten to check out the situation viz a viz shoes. My second mistake. No 2 does have a pair of jazz shoes, but no 3 doesn't. She announced five minutes before swimming that she had left her plimsolls at home. Grr. We then got back from the pool to discover that no 2 couldn't find her jazz shoes. This may also have been my fault. In my manic cleaning for the Great Party, I have clearly put her jazz shoes somewhere so incredibly safe, I can no longer find them. That memory lapse thing falling usefully into play just at a point when my brain could do with a reboot. After ten minutes fruitless searching and another moment of Major Marital Dysfunction, we dropped them to the theatre twenty minutes late. Whoops.
Then it was back home AGAIN, with just enough time for a cup of tea, before whizzing back to the theatre (I am beginning to loathe the sight of it), where I left Spouse and no 4 to watch drama, while I took no 1 to her singing exam.
No 1 loves singing, and her singing teacher seems to think she's quite good at it. I do to, the little I've heard of her, because bafflingly, I don't EVER hear her sing. She's constantly on the piano, and not enough on the guitar, but while she clearly DOES practise her singing, as the singing teacher usually seems impressed, I have no idea when. Maybe she gets up in the middle of the night when we're all asleep. Anyway, practise or no, suddenly she was a gibbering wreck, so I had to sit her down in the sunshine and say, Look what's the worst that can happen? I couldsingmajorinsteadofminorforgetmywordsbeoutoftunemissthebeat she babbled incoherently. Right. And on a scale of 1 to 10 this is how likely? No 1 seems to need me less and less, so it was nice for once to think she wanted advice from her mother...
I have no idea how it went, other then that she thought she'd done two songs better then anticipated, but at least it's now over and we don't have to worry about singing again till the autumn. Fortuitously we were able to hook up with Spouse and the others who'd finished at more or less the same time, and after a bit of necessary food shopping, we hopped home for lunch, before I was out again to take no 1 to her rehearsal and no 4 to a football party. Yes. I know she's a girl, but all her mates bar about two are boys, and sometimes she thinks she is too.
At that point I did collapse on the sofa and paid the appropriate tribute to the snoozefest that was Williams v Williams by falling asleep.
But no rest for the wicked. At 5.15 I had to rouse myself to go and pick up no4 from her party, and then after much debate (and keenly trying to avoid another Major Marital Dysfunctional Moment) we agreed to meet Lovely Sister and Niece who were coming to the show at the station and eat in a restaurant near the theatre. This was by far the least stressful option (I having no energy left to even contemplate feeding people), but we still managed to get to the show with only about a minute to spare.
The show itself was... well... baffling. Mainly. The drama group were celebrating fifteen years since their formation, so the show was a medley of all the 41 (yes I did say 41) shows they've ever done. The bits that worked were very funny, like Bugsy Malone done in Shakespearian verse, and West Side Story told in five minutes, but there were several confusing commercial breaks which no one understood, not even the performers, and the whole was a bit of a mishmash. Having said that, the quality of the singing and dancing was very high again, and there are some very very talented kids who were really impressive. No 1 had a few lines for the first time, and managed to not only put on a northern accent, but actually carry it off. Given that this time last year she sulked all the way through a performance she was in on a holiday drama scheme, it was great so see how much fun she was having and how relaxed she was. Because the best thing as far as I'm concerned about the drama group as that it has really given her confidence and boosted her self esteem, which was at a low ebb for a long time as she came to terms with switching schools.
And again, the most fun thing about the show was the energy and enthusiasm of the kids. They gave it their all, and even where it was incomprehensible, it sort of didn't matter somehow, because you could see how much fun they were having.
Yesterday, funnily enough, we didn't rise incredibly early, but we couldn't just sit around all day in our pjs, as we'd been invited to a summer party by a school mum chum. This being the only thing all weekend that I really really wanted to do, naturally I couldn't spend as long there as I'd have liked, as no 1 had booked a ticket to see Twelfth Night with the school. Being completely unable to bar my children from important cultural experiences, I had no option but to let her go. Which meant driving her and two of her friends on an hour round trip. Words failed me when we got there and she announced she'd left her ticket at home...
Still, she did enjoy the performance, and I'm glad she's beginning to get the importance of Shakespeare, so I can't really complain.
But I am gladder still that I won't be spending this week parked outside the theatre, have no plays to watch this week, and the end of term is fast approaching. Any more of this and I'll suffer from complete systems overload...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Elegy for a Young Woman Assassinated in Iran
Although I write fiction, I have a love of poetry instilled in me first by my father, and fostered by the brilliant English teachers at school. One of my best discoveries since joining Twitter has been coming across a wonderful poet who blogs here. Alot of poetry can be pretentious or difficult. Semaphore writes of things that matter, so beautifully and simply, he can reduce you to tears. He's very kindly allowed me to post this moving poem about the young woman killed in Iran. Read it and weep. And if you like it, check out his other stuff, it's amazing.
Elegy for a Young Woman Assassinated in Iran
Yours the first death, the messenger, the voice,
Crying out of Persia,
By a single shot from this life untimely ripped.
Louder now than that gunshot grows the noise,
Neda, rohat shad,
Anguished lamentation, by sorrow swept.
Where now your heart, bullet sequestered
Like a stricken love
In your severed auricle?
Sister, you fell
Burning, but with that fall you shattered
Our glass lives, removed
From our unseeing eyes the folded veil.
For now we cannot mourn you at Haft-e Tir
Or Behesht-e Zahra,
Instead commemorate you from our homes.
With prayer we recall you fallen, martyred
As if in Karbala,
Solitary voices raised, no longer alone.
Thus we offer up our invocation
To your final breath.
Beyond the seventh and the fortieth day,
Let resound life’s majestic insurrection
Against this first death –
Be not afraid, be not afraid, be not afraid.
Elegy for a Young Woman Assassinated in Iran
Yours the first death, the messenger, the voice,
Crying out of Persia,
By a single shot from this life untimely ripped.
Louder now than that gunshot grows the noise,
Neda, rohat shad,
Anguished lamentation, by sorrow swept.
Where now your heart, bullet sequestered
Like a stricken love
In your severed auricle?
Sister, you fell
Burning, but with that fall you shattered
Our glass lives, removed
From our unseeing eyes the folded veil.
For now we cannot mourn you at Haft-e Tir
Or Behesht-e Zahra,
Instead commemorate you from our homes.
With prayer we recall you fallen, martyred
As if in Karbala,
Solitary voices raised, no longer alone.
Thus we offer up our invocation
To your final breath.
Beyond the seventh and the fortieth day,
Let resound life’s majestic insurrection
Against this first death –
Be not afraid, be not afraid, be not afraid.
Monday, June 29, 2009
All. Partied. Out...
We have just reached the end of our party season (actually not quite, mine is still to come, but I don't count mine!). We inconveniently chose to have three of our children in a six week period, so from May to the end of June every weekend it seems has been spent corralling groups of little girls to bowling alleys and cinemas. On top of which this year we have also had the excitement of mil's 85th birthday party.
Mil's birthday was at the start of June, but we couldn't fit in a party till the 21st. Given that at Christmas we were slightly concerned she wouldn't make it past January, the event took on a much bigger significance then it might have done. Spouse nearly drove me demented in the weeks leading up to the big day, so anxious was he for everything to turn out perfectly. I ended up using it as an excuse to clean the house, which retains its sparkly shine over a week later (result), and Spouse, bil and sil went on an epic trip to Macro to buy in provisions. Normally sil and I would have provided puddings but we took an executive decision that as we were catering for 60+ we'd save ourselves the time and effort.
Mil invited pretty much everyone in her address book, so the guest list was for 80, but given their average age was also 80, there were quite a few no shows. However, to our absolute delight, thanks to much help from children and grandchildren, two of mil's cousins and two of her friends were able to make it. So the day before the party saw Spouse and I at Heathrow at 9am to pick up one friend, a sprightly lady of 83, who managed the trip alone and could pass easily for 15 years younger; bil and sil at Gatwick at 3pm to pick up the cousins, plus granddaughter; and mil's school friend was brought to us by her son and his girlfriend. We found them all space in the local Premier Inn, and Saturday evening found us feeding everyone, plus some English cousins from the other side of the family. Sil kindly provided a stew so I didn't have to cook (I quite like providing my house for entertainment and not having to do the catering (-:), and we had a German table in the kitchen and an English table next door in the conservatory (not because we can't mention the war, but because those who only speak their own language end up nodding at the foreigners and it all gets a bit complicated trying to translate). As there were rather a lot of people, Spouse and I found ourselves unable to get round the table so ended up dashing in and out of the back doors to pass plates and food around. Still a good time was had by all, and by the end of the evening all the German I had forgotten was slowly coming back.
The party itself was a great success, barring a collapsing swing seat (which had three elderly people on it at the time, it could only happen to us) and a collapsing guest (rather more alarming. I am going to issue health warnings for our next party). I don't think mil stopped talking all day long, and as ever when she is in the presence of her country folk she gets very confused which language she is speaking and ends up speaking English to Germans and German to the English. We sat in the sunshine all day, and the gazebo that Spouse and bil had erected (with much hilarity from me and sil - every time they put a pole in one place another pinged out from somewhere else) didn't collapse, no small children fell in the pond, and mil was treated to Happy Birthday in English and German. Have to say Germans did it rather better, as we all started at different places.
Party over, Germans stayed on for a bit. So last Monday saw me ferrying them back and forth from hotel to our house, via a quick tour of the area. Spouse had the day off, so I thankfully sent him to no 4's Sport's Day (after nine years you really can have too much of a good thing) and then we all had dinner in the hotel.
On Tuesday after school pick up, I picked all the Germans up and left most of them with mil at our house, while I took my sprightly friend to Heathrow. I managed half an hour sitting in the garden before the school run, then provided Kaffee und Kuchen ( a very German experience if you've ever been there) before bil pitched up to take the cousins back to Gatwick. Mil's schoolfriend then stayed with us for a couple of days while her son toured the UK. I left them together at mil's all day on Wednesday, and told them to come back to ours at 6. When I got in, there was no sign of them. So I rang them up and got no answer. Thinking they might be in mil's garden, I went round to fetch them. Got there, to discover garden and flat empty, and zimmer frames missing. Two 85 year olds had decided to do a bunk. I can't blame them really. It must get very tiresome having your offspring and outlaws fussing over your every move.
Went across to the park, and couldn't see them, which was a little bit worrying. I was just working out how to say to the son, by the way I appear to have lost your mother in German, when I spotted mil at the far end of the park, which is nearer our house, but nowhere near a crossing. Deciding it was going to simply take too long for them with their zimmers to take the safe route and having several hungry children at home, I ended up turning into a traffic cop and standing in the middle of the road halting traffic so they could cross.
Mil's friend eventually went home on Thursday, both of them having talked themselves hoarse. I'd just about got to grips with German by the time she left, but there always seems some point in a conversation where I have no idea what's going on.
Mil had a fantastic time, which was the whole point of the exercise, and we were able to return some of the hospitality we have had on our German visits.
The week ended with no 3's birthday, which was so overshadowed by the big party I hadn't got her presents until Thursday. However, having eventually succumbed to the pressure of a Nintendo DS, I don't think she was too bothered, particularly as we had a cinema trip to Nigh at the Museum 2 followed by a splash in the pool back at ours on Saturday.
Yesterday was Race for Life, and a barbie at friends, where it was very nice not having to do the entertaining.
Am just about partied out. Think I might lie down in a dark room while I recover, so I can have enough energy to survive the onslaught of this week's excitements, which include: no 1 taking part in a school production for the next three nights, a possible trip to the downs on Thursday to watch Status Quo, Nos 2&3 doing a show on Saturday morning at the same time as no 1's grade 2 singing exam, and no 1 doing another show on Saturday night.
The end of term can't come quickly enough...
Mil's birthday was at the start of June, but we couldn't fit in a party till the 21st. Given that at Christmas we were slightly concerned she wouldn't make it past January, the event took on a much bigger significance then it might have done. Spouse nearly drove me demented in the weeks leading up to the big day, so anxious was he for everything to turn out perfectly. I ended up using it as an excuse to clean the house, which retains its sparkly shine over a week later (result), and Spouse, bil and sil went on an epic trip to Macro to buy in provisions. Normally sil and I would have provided puddings but we took an executive decision that as we were catering for 60+ we'd save ourselves the time and effort.
Mil invited pretty much everyone in her address book, so the guest list was for 80, but given their average age was also 80, there were quite a few no shows. However, to our absolute delight, thanks to much help from children and grandchildren, two of mil's cousins and two of her friends were able to make it. So the day before the party saw Spouse and I at Heathrow at 9am to pick up one friend, a sprightly lady of 83, who managed the trip alone and could pass easily for 15 years younger; bil and sil at Gatwick at 3pm to pick up the cousins, plus granddaughter; and mil's school friend was brought to us by her son and his girlfriend. We found them all space in the local Premier Inn, and Saturday evening found us feeding everyone, plus some English cousins from the other side of the family. Sil kindly provided a stew so I didn't have to cook (I quite like providing my house for entertainment and not having to do the catering (-:), and we had a German table in the kitchen and an English table next door in the conservatory (not because we can't mention the war, but because those who only speak their own language end up nodding at the foreigners and it all gets a bit complicated trying to translate). As there were rather a lot of people, Spouse and I found ourselves unable to get round the table so ended up dashing in and out of the back doors to pass plates and food around. Still a good time was had by all, and by the end of the evening all the German I had forgotten was slowly coming back.
The party itself was a great success, barring a collapsing swing seat (which had three elderly people on it at the time, it could only happen to us) and a collapsing guest (rather more alarming. I am going to issue health warnings for our next party). I don't think mil stopped talking all day long, and as ever when she is in the presence of her country folk she gets very confused which language she is speaking and ends up speaking English to Germans and German to the English. We sat in the sunshine all day, and the gazebo that Spouse and bil had erected (with much hilarity from me and sil - every time they put a pole in one place another pinged out from somewhere else) didn't collapse, no small children fell in the pond, and mil was treated to Happy Birthday in English and German. Have to say Germans did it rather better, as we all started at different places.
Party over, Germans stayed on for a bit. So last Monday saw me ferrying them back and forth from hotel to our house, via a quick tour of the area. Spouse had the day off, so I thankfully sent him to no 4's Sport's Day (after nine years you really can have too much of a good thing) and then we all had dinner in the hotel.
On Tuesday after school pick up, I picked all the Germans up and left most of them with mil at our house, while I took my sprightly friend to Heathrow. I managed half an hour sitting in the garden before the school run, then provided Kaffee und Kuchen ( a very German experience if you've ever been there) before bil pitched up to take the cousins back to Gatwick. Mil's schoolfriend then stayed with us for a couple of days while her son toured the UK. I left them together at mil's all day on Wednesday, and told them to come back to ours at 6. When I got in, there was no sign of them. So I rang them up and got no answer. Thinking they might be in mil's garden, I went round to fetch them. Got there, to discover garden and flat empty, and zimmer frames missing. Two 85 year olds had decided to do a bunk. I can't blame them really. It must get very tiresome having your offspring and outlaws fussing over your every move.
Went across to the park, and couldn't see them, which was a little bit worrying. I was just working out how to say to the son, by the way I appear to have lost your mother in German, when I spotted mil at the far end of the park, which is nearer our house, but nowhere near a crossing. Deciding it was going to simply take too long for them with their zimmers to take the safe route and having several hungry children at home, I ended up turning into a traffic cop and standing in the middle of the road halting traffic so they could cross.
Mil's friend eventually went home on Thursday, both of them having talked themselves hoarse. I'd just about got to grips with German by the time she left, but there always seems some point in a conversation where I have no idea what's going on.
Mil had a fantastic time, which was the whole point of the exercise, and we were able to return some of the hospitality we have had on our German visits.
The week ended with no 3's birthday, which was so overshadowed by the big party I hadn't got her presents until Thursday. However, having eventually succumbed to the pressure of a Nintendo DS, I don't think she was too bothered, particularly as we had a cinema trip to Nigh at the Museum 2 followed by a splash in the pool back at ours on Saturday.
Yesterday was Race for Life, and a barbie at friends, where it was very nice not having to do the entertaining.
Am just about partied out. Think I might lie down in a dark room while I recover, so I can have enough energy to survive the onslaught of this week's excitements, which include: no 1 taking part in a school production for the next three nights, a possible trip to the downs on Thursday to watch Status Quo, Nos 2&3 doing a show on Saturday morning at the same time as no 1's grade 2 singing exam, and no 1 doing another show on Saturday night.
The end of term can't come quickly enough...
Friday, June 26, 2009
Where were you when...
the news came through? Have a feeling people will be talking about it for years to come. Prosaically we were watching tv and a newsflash came up. As a kid I wasn't a huge Jacko fan, but my early teens were punctuated with the sounds of Rock With You and Don't Stop Till You Get Enough, both of which remind me of boring Mondays spent at the local youth club playing pool (or rather watching boys I didn't fancy playing pool).
I have to say though, iconic as Jacko is (and much as I've grown to appreciate the music more - I hated it at the time), I'm actually sadder about the death of Farrah Fawcett. When she and hte other Angels burst onto our screens in 1976, I think it was probably the first time I'd ever seen a programme where girls kicked ass. I know, I know. It was incredibly sexist and they all had to run around in little bikinis (unlike my other heroines of the time, Purdey and Jaime who kicked ass but didn't have to demean themselves quite so much to do it), but.... here were these really pretty feminine women going around beating up villains and solving crime, which was a bit of a revelation frankly. Plus I wanted Farrah's hair. I have to fess up to liking Kate more, because she was the nerdy dark haired one and I know my place, but... really Farrah was just so cool and we all wanted to be her.
So, while I think it sad that Jacko has died so suddenly, and I think his whole life was quite a tragic one in a way, I feel sorrier that Farrah has died. She was inspirational for a generation of little girls, and I was certainly one of them.
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