Showing posts from July, 2009

in which it rained on Saturday

It rained on Saturday, almost as though the weather man was in tune with the empty cold that had started in the pit of her stomach and forced itself outwards, icy fingers curling themselves around her, seeping through her veins, seeming to have no intention of ever letting her go. Perhaps it would never be sunny again.
It pounded hard against the window, the dull pitter-patter almost soothing in it’s repetitiveness. She shivered, pulled the blanket closer around her and shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, her eyes stinging as the memories and then the loneliness crept over her again. Every day she kidded herself that it was getting easier. Every night she fell asleep thinking that maybe today hadn’t been that bad; she had remembered something in the middle of the afternoon and it hadn’t made her throw up. That was an improvement. And yet, every morning she woke up and felt it afresh, raw and deep and as painful as it ever was. One day she expected to wake up and find it had engulf…

in which i scribble when i shouldn't be scribbling

She has told herself that tonight will be the last time.
She has told herself the same thing so many times before but this time, this time, she really means it. She can’t take anymore. A line has to be drawn and she is drawing it tonight. If only it were as simple as she manages to make it sound. It is not; he is under her skin. He has been under her skin for almost five years and she hates it. Hates the fact that he is there, hates him for being there, hates herself for the fact that no matter what defences she builds against him they are never quite as inpenetratable as she imagines they are and somehow he always manages to find a crack and slide through it, burrowing under her skin, scorching through her veins, making her ache with a hated longing and so she has decided that after tonight there will be no more.

It’s not even as though this, whatever it is that they have, is enjoyable. The thing that Hallmark always forgets to tell you is that actually, love hurts. Her life is like …

in which i share some writing

I scribbled this down about a month ago. Before I discovered the blog. I will, at some point be posting new stuff on here - when I have time to actually write the words bouncing around in my head that is, after all, I'd be a fool to embark on a creative writing course if I didn't actually write, would I not? But for now, this is where I was at on June 18th....


I saw you standing there, waiting and I stopped, the sight of you like a punch to the stomach, almost knocking the wind out of me. Somehow I hadn’t been expecting to see you. I’d walked all this way and still I was surprised you were there. I stopped and I watched you. I wondered how long you’d wait for, how long it would take before you decided I wasn’t coming and got back on the train. I wondered why I’d come and whether I should turn around and walk back away, my feet re-tracing my steps as though in rewind. I studied you, scrutinising you from a distance, watching you from behind my over-sized sunglasses. Yo…

In which My Sister's Keeper makes me cry. Properly, actually cry.

I have to confess to actually rather liking Jodi Picoult, she is my guilty secret, and her novels make up the majority of the ‘P’ section of my bookshelf.

My Sister’s Keeper was the second of her novels I read, the first being The Pact. It’s not one of the best. I enjoyed it, don’t get me wrong, but I still maintain she has written much better. Second Glance for one….

My Sister’s Keeper is absorbing, it’s funny and it’s moving and it asks some very pertinent questions; how far should a family go to save a child? What if that means infringing on both the rights and the welfare of another? The situations Picoult has created are imaginable, the characters very real , the ethical dilemma makes for a compelling story and the twist at the end almost reduced me to tears BUT it is also overly sentimental, in the same way that The Lovely Bones is overly sentimental (I hate that book); contrived to cause tears and therefore rather lacking in subtlety. I have heard of people weeping at the book…

in which i am excited

On Thursday I am going to London. This makes me very happy, because not only does it mean I get to escape from the office for a day, and sit on a train with Neil Gaiman’s ‘Coraline’ – I have several of Neil’s novels which I plan to devour over the summer, Coraline being the first - it also means I get to spend the day with the lovely Jen. I am VERY excited. If I could change anything about my life at the moment it would be to have Jen and another friend of mine, Sue, living closer than they do so the prospect of a whole day with Jen is definitely high on my list of ‘fun things to do.’

Jen is lovely, and very clever. She recently graduated from Edinburgh University with an MA in English Literature, and is now officially a struggling writer, fingerless gloves and all. Although I think at the moment she is managing to pay her electricity bills! She is working on her first novel, which I can confidently say is going to be fabulous – and I say this not because it’s what you do when your fri…

In which I am looking forward to the weekend

This week has been long and tedious. A new employee – who has been off sick for two days in her first week, but who otherwise is shaping up ok; a boss who I would suspect was pre-menstrual were he not male; a pile of work that seems to keep on growing. I am tired and I am fed up. I am pleased it is the weekend.

This evening Helen is coming over for Chinese and pear cider and a film. Maybe Notes on a Scandal. I am intrigued as to how it will compare to the book, or by comparing am I setting myself up for despair? I do think Dame Judi Dench will make a marvellous Barbara. I also plan to finish The Whole Day Through, by Patrick Gale and get stuck into some nice and easy crime. Hello, Harlan Coben!

Saturday means lunch out, gardening, cleaning and snowboarding and please all keep your fingers crossed that the sun shines on Sunday. I wish to picnic.

In which I write my first blog review....

Left alone over the weekend I finished Sharon Osbourne’s second book ‘Survivor’ which I may or may not come back to muse upon at a later date; it was eye opening to say the least, although not as ‘enjoyable’ as ‘Extreme’, and then devoured ‘Private Papers’ by Margaret Forster. This one took me rather by surprise; I found it hard to get into at first and wondered whether it’s seemingly choppy narrative would mean it would be one of those novels I ploughed through purely because I hate to leave a book unfinished. Luckily this was not the case.

‘Private Papers’ is a well-crafted novel following the lives of one family as seen through the very different eyes of a Mother and her oldest daughter. The story begins with Rosemary, the eldest of four daughters coming across her Mother, Penelope’s, ‘private papers’; her version of the family history. Whilst Rosemary agrees with the facts, her interpretation is wildly different and she begins to tell the story, the way she sees it so what we hav…

in which i jump on the blog wagon

At 26 I have decided it’s time to stop sitting around regretting and to start seeing if I can atone for the sins of my past. Don’t I sound dramatic? Worry not though dear reader as mass murderer I am not. What I am is a young woman regretting the mistakes she made when she was a silly little girl that resulted in her dropping out of college and not getting any formal qualifications other than her GCSE’s. Yup, I really was that stupid. So, in an effort to do something about that, and, in an effort to stop my brain stagnating which it really feels like it might be doing, I have signed up with the OU. My short-term goal is to achieve a diploma in Creative Writing and Literature. My long term goal? Well, a BA in English Lang/Lit would be nice but we’ll see.

The first course starts in October – a 30point creative writing course, and so here I am setting up a blog to chart my progress, waffle about books I like and books I don’t like and probably moan quite a bit about my job. I manage a sma…