Broken Biro

Before I get old

2012-01-30T08:00:00.000Z

I've just discovered The Who - a great beat combo who I'm sure will do well.

They're no youngsters either - which makes me wonder if they're still saying: 'I hope I die before I get old'.

As I slip into my middle years, faded and frayed as a well-worn pair of jim-jams, I begin to accept that perhapsit is a little too late to be an angry young thing, 'a promising young novelist' or indeed a 'girl'.

My mum said to me once with a creak of bones (this was a few years ago, she's perked up since): 'Never grow old, never grow old.'

It was a mixed sort of message really.

Then I remembered this cracking version of My Generation - it's a couple of years old now, but I love, love, love it and had to share it with you. Sorry I'm not allowed to embed it here... you'll have to go all the way over to YouTube for it... and I bet there isn't a bus!

Nano-fiction

2012-01-28T08:00:00.000Z

My first published story of the year is a wee one.

It's not quite as wee as the 6-word stories I wrote about in this post but at Twitter-length of 140 characters, Nanoism's stories aren't exactly verbose. But they still have the power to say more than they say.

My story is HERE.

Blurbs

2012-01-27T08:00:00.000Z

I don't know what you call them, but we call them 'blurbs'. You know - those little quotes on the back (or inside) cover of your book saying how great it is/ you are.

I don't have a book (yet!) but I made some pamphlets of my poetry to flog at gigs, back in the days before I had any real blurbs to put on it, so I had to make do with this one from my mum:

"I think these poems are great - but I know nothing about poetry and I am her mother."

Mrs Kirwan

Since then I have twisted a few arms, nicked the odd sound bite from publicity for things I've been at.
But I was very chuffed to be described - by a follower of this blog if I recall correctly- as "Roger McGough in bra"

Other comments from here I could use if necessary:
"I don't care how many other zombie Santa poems might be out there, this has got to be the best."

"She has better legs than John Noakes" (I have no recollection of how the comparison came about)

Which somehow sounds better than a gig organiser who said: "Clare's massive body of work is funny, profound, thought provoking and moving." I think it's the fact that it starts with my 'massive body' that put me off that one.

Sometimes, I confess, I have touted for blurbs to help promote myself to potential gig organisers. My old mate David Bateman, who's well thought of on 'the circuit' came up with the completely unhelpful: "Strangely good." I suppose it could have been worse: "Good, strangely."

What's the best line you've had to describe YOU? Don't be shy now!

(Not) seeing the light

2012-01-25T22:31:00.003Z

Hello.

Where were we? Ah yes, I was saying about how I'd emerged from my winter nest back into Blogland.

I was a little premature.

Sorry.

Actually, I've had a big stinky cold, which put me off my stride just as I was feeling perkier. *coughs weekly*

But this is not a picture of what I've been snotting into my hanky.

Oh no.

But I'm feeling better now and cheered up by these remarkable pictures of aurora borealis, visible 'in the north' the last few nights - but not here, proving that Merseyside is not as northern as some southerners think.

These images were taken in Scandanavia and Alaska - for a 'Wow!' moment, try doing a search of 'aurura borealis' pics.

Go on.

So what makes aurora borealis? Not a clue... I start glazing over when it comes to star gazing. But Astro Bob will tell you if you pop over there.

I was just going to add seeing it to the old bucket list, but find it is already there! Doh!

And if you're reading this from the southern hemisphere, don't feel left out. This last pic is Aurora Australis - the Southern Lights - as seen from South Australia in 2001.

Hibernation over?

2012-01-15T21:36:00.001Z

I fear I have been remiss in my blogging - but who can blame a girl for a little hibernation at this time of year?

After all, I had fattened myself up, lowered my body temperature, plumped up the duvet.

Having said that I've actually been rather busy in my nest - the book, the play (oh, didn't I mention the play yet? I'll come back to that presently).

And I did foray out yesterday because it was very lovely and I thought I may need some more nuts (metaphorically speaking). Here is proof that it is spring already and I shall be frolicking in the green fields of the blogosphere before you know it.

Snowdrops!

Hillbark House in Royden Park - where Wayne Rooney had
his wedding reception, but otherwise quite respectable

National Libraries Day

2012-01-05T09:49:00.001Z

Doh! OK, so it was National Libraries Day yesterday and I'm now overdue a post... I'll probably get a 12p fine.

If I'd written this yesterday I would have exhorted you to visit your local library forthwith to celebrate the last no-strings, useful, free stuff available to the general public... but local readers would have complained because traditionally most of the libraries in Wirral are closed on a Wednesday.

National Libraries Day is always on a Wednesday and hence is not very big in Wirral - that's why I never hear about it. I wouldn't have heard about it now but for Twitter, which also helped create one of my favourite posts about libraries I did when I first started: 'Why there are so many songs about librarians'*

The library in both pictures is not the one I work in. It is the stunning Strahov Library in Prague, which I visited last year - you can see more than I did by taking this 'virtual tour' ... and if the pictures whet your appetite, there are many more gorgeous library pics at Beautiful Libraries. No drooling, please!

* Caution, dreadful pun alert

*******************************************

OOOPS! Just discovered National Libraries Day is 4th FEBRUARY!! I'm not a day late, I'm a month early!! As you were... *grumbles: 'Bloody Twitter'*

Waving goodbye to 2011

2011-12-31T22:56:00.000Z

And so, as the year 2011 sails off over the horizon and 2012 sets sail, it's time to climb the mast, spruce up the rigging and count the pieces of eight (excuse the nautical references, partly a flashback to the New Brighton Pirate Muster and partly because I was just watching Pirates of the Caribbean). I am reliably informed that on New Year's Eve, staying in is the new going out. Cheers!So what have been my highlights of 2011?

Poetry 24
Thanks to an unexpected invitation from Martin Hodges at Square Sunshine early in 2011, I have been involved in setting up a unique online poetry site which has since published news-relatedpoems from contributors around the world almost daily on an extraordinary range of subjects. Check out this marvelous snapshot review of the year from one of our regulars.

Library Centenary
OK, it's all in a day's work really, but it's been a roller-coaster ride through the year with more than 60 events for the Centenary of the library where I work. We had author visits, themed days, quizes, music, talks and performances, culminating in a ukulele-rich Centenary Weekend with John Hegley and quite a lot of cake.

Re-visiting Israel
Twenty years after I first went to Israel as kibbutz volunteer for three months (and stayed the better part of three years) I went back. I do like to stir up the ghosts and managed to surprise two former lovers by turning up unannounced decades later. Closure, at last.

Finished my novel
I finally completed my work in progress which I started three years ago. The (Un)Dead Residents Association - a light-hearted romp through local authority nonsense and the living-challenged - currently seeking representation.

Festival of Firsts
Mixed feelings about this - proud to have been involved in a new local festival and setting up Wirral's first Poet Tree, but it also nearly sent me back to the dark side, I wasted a lot of time unnecessarily on it and I fell out badly with a member of a prominent Sixties band (it's ok - we've made up now, especially as he bought me thunder for Christmas (no - really!)).

Other highlights: I had more quality time with my mum and dad, and my brother didn't die in the Andes (which is always good news). Jet-setting to Cuba, Fuertaventura and Copenhagen. I had a story published in one of Lancaster Litfest's prestigious publications (and was profiled on their website) and 16 other stories or poems published. I met lots of groovy people online - you know who you are - and in real life (local poets mostly, also borrowers... ooh, and poetry hero John Hegley 3 times!). I had larks performing at Studio Liverpool, Vintage Radio, and Wenlock Poetry Festival... and of course I was briefly an internet sensation exactly a year ago... in a sad, nerdy sort of way.

I haven't really thought about 2012 yet... watch this space.

Meanwhile, what were YOUR highlights! Come on, share... and a Happy New Year!! *gets all teary*

The 'Hark!' Lark

2011-12-21T10:30:00.000Z

Hark! the High Street Angels sing:
Buy it now – don’t pay till Spring!
No peace on earth and purses wild:
You must get this for your child
Joyful all ye nations rise
Buy cranberry and mince pies
With angelic voice proclaim
10% off every game.

Hark the High Street Angels sing:
Two for one on everything!

Try our Heaven-born new settees
We have twelve month guarantees
Hail this ton of bright excess
Buy on credit – send express!
Light and life to all you'll bring
Try it free – there are no strings,
Awful things that cost the earth -
Get yourselves a dollar’s worth.
We're all broke, but still we buy
(Terms and conditions apply)

Hark the High Street Angels sing:
Two for one on everything!

Nothing like a Dane

2011-12-18T22:00:00.000Z

Here are some more pics from my recent trip to Copenhagen. Sorry about my recent absence - I have actually been back for a week but things have been a bit hectic at Broken Biro Towers

This year's 'Russian' theme ... hmm, just like Moscow

Live coal hand-warming in public places

Pretty lights at the Tivoli Gardens

So..o.o.o pretty!

Seasonal goodies - Æbleskiver, little donut type things (not actually bigger than my head
- it's a perspective thing), and gløgg

Wonderful, wonderful...

2011-12-09T20:36:00.001Z

Copenhagen! Yes, I'm jet-setting again. It's not my fault, my best friend insisted.

I've never been to Scandinavia before, and you know what has really struck me? (Apart from the the 120mph winds which followed me here.)

It's really, really quiet.

I've just got back from 6 circuits of the Winter Wonderland that is the Tivoli Gardens (pictured - but not my picture, I forgot to bring the lead!). Every building, tree, natural (and unnatural) feature, animal, person, kiosk and merry-go-round is completely decked out in lights. But the rides and stalls aren't blasting loud music at you (often no music at all), people aren't shouting at each other, there are no violent sound effects to assault your ears, even the people plummeting to earth from the Great Pointing Thing of Death (not its official title, I'm sure) are screaming ever so sedately.

I love it. I may move here.

10 Best Gifts for Writers

2011-12-05T08:00:00.000Z

Ah, it's that time of year again: sleigh bells glisten, Santa is nipping at your toes and the mince pies are burning away merrily. And here I am again exhorting readers to use my link (on the right) when buying their pressies from Amazon so I get a few shiny pennies under my tree (not a euphemism).

Top 10 Stocking Fillers for Writers for under a Tenner

Writers need to back up their works in progress or perhaps move stuff from one computer to another. Show them you 'woof' them by filling their stockings with this delightful Humping Dog USB flashdrive.

Or, if your loved one prefers a pen... and is writing something gruesome, look no further than this Novelty Syringe Pen at just 99p.

How about this Book Lovers Calendar - a page a day of great novels they didn't write, serving the dual purpose of reminding them of how unsuccessful they are and the swift passage of time, and hence their own mortality.

Anyone who wants to write for a living is a mug - so buy them one. This one is from the Literary Gift Company (see below) at £9.95 but there are loads at £11 from Cafe Press who will also make one with your own wording on (or maybe a quote from one of your writer's poems or stories?).

Oh, you want to give them books? Anyone who loves words will love The Etymologicon from ace blogger The Inky Fool - a witty and enlightening little book described in the Observer as 'the stocking filler of the season.'

Another gift for hungry word lovers is Scrabble with Chocolate Pieces at £8.50. There is a range of other classic games with a chocolatey twist... although the Twister with Chocolate looked disappointing. I'm sure I could have been more imaginative with that idea... but it wouldn't have much of a literary bent so I digress.

Of course the classic gift for any writer - a literary equivalent of The Beano is the seminal The Writers' & Artists' Yearbook 2012 which is packed with useful advice we do not heed, how-to guides we do not read and lists of agents and publishers we keep meaning to submit material to. But as it's just over £10, why not look out for a pristine (unopened) 2011 one as they're not going to open it anyway!

Beware of buying your writer this gorgeous Handmade Leather Journal. Beautiful notebooks demand beautiful writing, and most of us need notebooks for demented scribblings. We will not sully our beautiful notebooks with such things and will never write another word.

Try something cheeky instead like this Marvel Retro A5 Notebook at £5.70.

Nothing says more clearly 'I'm a writer' than this typewriter pin badge which is £4 gift-boxed from the Literary Gift Company... except perhaps a pin badge saying 'I'm a writer' which would just be silly... but available from Cafe Press (above).

I mention the Literary Gift Company last because once you go to them you will be lost to me - and I don't get any commission from them!

The Queen and I... a flaggy dog story

2011-12-04T10:30:00.000Z

I promised you the Queen, and the Queen you shall have. But first, here's a very patriotic pup. Woof Brittania!

ER was visiting Liverpool on Thursday to open the fab new museum and celebrate something to do with the Liver Buildings (eg the fact that they have survived amidst some truly hideous new buildings sprouting up around them).

Then she came across to our side of the Mersey to see the refurbished Floral Pavilion theatre just around the corner from my mum and dad's.

It was supposed to be hush hush. There were top level meetings, secret briefings, Special Branch directives - tell no-one. But everyone knew something was up when all the local railings got a fresh coat of paint. Then mum found out the full details from the bin men.

She didn't stop to chat - probably hungry or desperate for a royal 'wee'.So these are as close as I got to frank, close-up portraits of her majesty - a few distant glimpses through a forest of flags and cameras, and the back of her head as she left.

I was hoping to get something like the ones below...

Biscuits and tunnels

2011-12-02T03:00:00.000Z

It's been a very exciting week, here in Wirral, even for me - and I missed half of lozzing around in sunny... oh, never mind, I don't want to rub it in.

There was the Royal Visit, which I'll come back to shortly, and there was the Big Strike. Luckily I was on holiday, and luckily for my colleagues Wirral libraries are closed on Wednesdays anyway, so no-one had to lose a day's pay to make a stand against all this goal-post moving.

The media seems to be stoking a war of attrition between the workers in the public and private sectors over this. They say public sector employees are better paid, have better pensions and are better represented than private sector ones who don't have the luxury of unions. I'm sure there's truth in that, but my question is: 'Because you have no voice, should we stay silent too?' Shouldn't somebody be standing up against the way the banks, big institutions and off-shore companies continue to take us all for a ride?

I love this joke that is doing the rounds (except that it's no joke):

A Banker, a School Teacher, a Tory MP & a Daily Mail reader are sat around a table. In front of them is a plate, upon which there are ten biscuits. The Banker scoffs nine of the biscuits. The Tory then turns to the Daily Mail reader and whispers in his ear: "Watch out, that teacher is after your biscuit".

I was, however, affected by the strike - when I arrived back in Liverpool at 10.45pm, the tunnels were closed due to industrial action, the only detour being via the Runcorn Bridge (far right of the map) to get home to the Land of Broken Biros (far left) - an extra 35miles! So I gave unplanned custom to those same whining private sector workers by holing up for an hour or so at an all-night purveyor of food and beverages until the tunnels reopened. Well, I say 'food'...

I'm sure with imagination there is something we could all do to make our voices heard about the liberties being taken (reckless bankers, price-fixing energy providers, bonuses for the inept, wars we didn't want, tax havens for the super-rich etc etc) without people losing pay and/or being inconvenienced by the big clumsy tool of a general strike. If I think of it I'll let you know.

Maybe I should have mentioned all this to the Queen... to be continued

Out of office reply...

2011-11-22T22:19:00.001Z

I'm not around right now. Like a bird, I'm flying south for winter (well, a week anyway).

Unlike a bird I won't shit on you as I pass overhead.

There may or may not be wifi, my laptop may or not survive a strip-search, so I may or may not post / comment. I planned to schedule a post or two to amuse and entertain in the meantime, but time is running out... so I'll leave you with a little competition:

I'd like you to write me the worst opening sentence of a novel you can come up with. There'll be a 'super' prize* for the winner. You may want to read my previous post for inspiration - you may even want to start your sentence: 'It a was a dark and stormy night' but I won't hold you to that.

Post your answer as a comment. Tell your friends too - get me up to the 100 follower mark while I'm away so I miss it and feel terrible, why don't you?

* Well, a prize anyway - and you'll really get it too. I remember how skeptical Dave was about ever getting that camel prize until it turned up on his doorstep (sans three wise men). P.S. But it won't be a camel this time... I promise!

It was a dark and stormy night

2011-11-21T09:00:00.000Z

I used to love reading 'Peanuts' by Charles M Schulz in the Daily Mail (I was just a kid, OK? It was my parents... I didn't know what I was doing.)

My favourite character was Snoopy, the wannabe novelist dog who, like me at the time, never got much past the first sentence of any great work of fiction he was writing.

Did you know his standard opening: 'It was a dark and stormy night' was written by Victorian novelist Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton at the beginning of his 1830 novel Paul Clifford? I thought the name sounded familiar, and it is because of he annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest for examples of really bad fiction. Last year's winner is a fine example:

For the first month of Ricardo and Felicity's affair, they greeted one another at every stolen rendezvous with a kiss--a lengthy, ravenous kiss, Ricardo lapping and sucking at Felicity's mouth as if she were a giant cage-mounted water bottle and he were the world's thirstiest gerbil.
--Molly Ringle, Seattle, Washington

This passage must have been perilously close to being nominated for another much-loved literary award - the Bad Sex Award, the winning passages of which I found strangely erotic:
"like a lepidopterist mounting a tough-skinned insect with a too blunt pin he screwed himself into her"
and
"He unbuttoned the front of her shirt and pulled it to the side so that her breast was uncovered, her nipple poking out, upturned like the nose of the loveliest nocturnal animal, sniffing the night"

*blushes fetchingly and goes back to the cartoons...*

To be brief

2011-11-18T08:00:00.000Z

Shall I tell you what's interesting about writing a novel?

Yes. I shall.

As regular readers know, I'vemainly written poems and short stories. I've also worked on a local newspaper, and as freelance newsletter editor and press and PR officer. It's all writing, but it's all writing of a certain kind... succinct!

Learning to edit comes in really useful for poems and stories... where the reader is expected to do a good deal of the imagining. It's good for any writing which, due to the limitations of space or the pursuit of brevity, applauds the cutting down of what you want to say to the minimum possible number of words.

This can be tricky in a novel. It dawned on me some way into it that readers may struggle with this kind of succinctness and could need some breathing space between events, some scene-setting - the sort of stuff I cut out of stories, poems, articles ... and blogs!

When I read, I'm too impatient for pages and pages of irrelevant 'purple' prose - but I'm not sure I want to romp through a story at breakneck speed either. So I'm now anti-editing - adding rather than taking away. What's she thinking? What's the background to this? What's the weather like? - not for padding (it's already 77k words with a few scenes to add), but to make it a more satisfying read.

I'm interested what you think - do you like the 'two veg' of scene-setting or do you skip to the 'meat' of the next exciting thing? Do you want to know a character's whole back story or is a well-chosen pen sketch enough? And when YOU write do you find yourself writing too much or, like me, do you compulsively edit what you've written until you are gnawing on the bare bones? Short - or lengthy - replies welcome!

A novel request

2011-11-16T19:12:00.001Z

Help! I'm in need of some assistance and advice again!The novel's up to 76k words and I'm hoping to have a full draft ready within the week (eek!).So now I'm looking for anyone willing to:

(a) read first 3 chapters quite quickly - which will be sent to the first of a long list of agents imminently

(b) read a first draft of the whole thing, offer general constructive comments and answer some questions afterwards about specific aspects

(c) join in a less time-consuming way by offering suggestions for the following:

Examples of low-level bullying by girls ... nothing too nasty, preferably something quirky/ embarrassing circa 1980 (I was lucky enough to not have been subjected to or witnessed any bullying at school)
Examples of saints with silly names
Examples of bureaucratic jargon or local authority political correctness

If you'd like to do the actual reading (a) and (b), please send me your email address to clare at clarekirwan dot co dot uk. It's expensive and laborious to send hard copies out, so please only say yes if you're happy to just get a Word file to read on screen.

Highbrow Eyebrow Poem

2011-11-14T08:00:00.000Z

I'm only posting this because Fran at Being Me had an eyebrow issue recently and I mentioned I had just the poem.

I must confess I've been slightly traumatised by what I found when searching for 'knitted body parts' on Google.

Be careful what you wish for.

My grandmother knitted her own eyebrows

you had to in those days – there was a war on.
It was that or gravy browning, but she’d used
that up on the back of her legs to fashion
the illusion of stockings. Visually effective,
but never quite so warm.

The same was true of the eyebrow:
A line would do, at a push, in an emergency,
but if you really wanted to be warm
and keep the falling debris from your eyes
knitted ones were so much more ‘the thing.’

She used number three ply and knit one pearl one.
(I don’t know if that’s true but then I never asked
– so many things I didn’t think to ask about
‘til later. All I remember is her warning me
off plucking them: Or they won’t grow back, she said.)

I tried plucking my legs with this promise in mind,
but they always returned. It was like the hair
in different body parts obeyed different rules
– and some obeyed no rules at all. I used to think

everyone’s pubes would be as black as mine.
and was shocked the first time I saw a naked redhead,
for that (and several other) reasons.

So I didn’t pluck them. Partly because
I never learned to knit – I could do the basics
but none of that casting on or off –

so if I’d tried to knit my brows they would have gone
on and on forever. Which is frowned upon.

A ha!

2011-11-12T09:00:00.000Z

Talking about 'funny ha ha and funny peculiar'... 'Ha ha' is a funny kind of word, and so is 'Ha!' on it's own.

We are, of course, limited in the number of possible two-letter acronyms. The initials HA could stand for any of the following: hectare, Hemagglutinin, Highways Agency, Hawaiian Airlines or Hells Angels.. .and HAHA is the also the acronym for the human anti-human antibody (I'm not sure what that is, probably a Doctor Who villain).

There is, naturally, a town in Norway called Hå. I've already mentioned the town in Norway called Hell. Let's face it, there's almost certainly a town in Norway called Brøken Birø.

'Ha' is also the definite article in Hebrew... which makes almost every noun you mention sound either disparaging or mildly amusing.

I don't want to cause a hoo ha about all of this. I especially don't want to cause one because I just looked it up and apparently it doesn't just mean a 'big fuss' - which is what I meant, but also refers (according to some pesky Urban Dictionary) to female genitalia. An excellent example of onomatopoeia .

Incidentally, hoo ha apparently comes from the Yiddish for a hullabaloo הו־האַ . But you wonder, don't you, if it didn't come from 'brouhaha' - which is assumed to be an onomatopoeic assimilation from Hebrew בָּרוּךְ הַבָּא (barukh haba, “welcome”, literally “blessed is he who comes”).

Don't worry - I'm not going to do this for ALL 2-letter combos. I'm done now. You can come back.....come back!!!

Think you're funny?

2011-11-10T07:05:00.003Z

Laugh? I nearly died.
There are no clowns in my book, but plenty of coffins

This is a serious post about being funny... but there are some jokes at the end.

I was thinking about being funny when I posted about doing stand-up the other day. Like I said, they weren't exactly rolling in the aisles - wrong material / wrong audience maybe?

People tell me I'm funny. It's one of the things I aspire to be (being funny and being liked: my two aims in life - how needy is that?) But if the occasional quip falls on stony faces I begin to doubt my powers to amuse.

I've been working a lot on my novel-in-progress lately - a lighthearted romp involving a little trouble with Big Society, planning department shenanigans and the undead. And last weekend I finally allowed a good - but critical, discerning and ruthless - friend to read the first half. How many times have you seen a book described as 'laugh out loud funny' but it barely raises a titter? Imagine my delight to hear my friend laughing out loud at my book, my baby. Don't worry - it is supposed to be funny! But it's easy to lose faith when you are the only one to have read something, and humour is subjective.

Meanwhile on Twitter there was a meme where people shared their favourite short joke. Here are some of the ones I liked the best, which gives you a clue as to the sort of humour to expect :

My wife bet me I couldn't build a car from spaghetti. Imagine her face when I drove pasta...
I bought ten tonnes of Tippex the other day... big mistake!
I just spilled glue all over my autobiography - that's my story and I'm sticking to it!
Two goldfish in a tank, one says to the other... "How do you drive this thing?"
What do you call a donkey with 3legs? Wonkey
"Doctor,doctor, I think I'm a moth." "Sorry, mate, this is a solicitor's, nota doctor's surgery." "I know, but your light was on."
How do you titillate an ocelot? Oscillateits tits a lot
What's gray, wrinkly and hangs out your granddads pajamas? Your grandma.
Why did the baker have brown hands? Cos he kneaded a poo.
(gotta have a library joke)Man walks into library: Can I have fish & chips please? Librarian: This is a library. Man whispers: Can I have fish &..

Stand up and be counted

2011-11-06T18:00:00.000Z

Some people do very brave things. They run back into burning buildings to save small children. They hold the bridge under enemy fire, diffuse bombs, cut their own mangled legs free from the wreckage and hobble 30 miles on the stumps... (sorry - none of you are having your tea are you?)

Some people even do brave things for fun: they hurl themselves down ice-covered mountain slopes, tear along the dotted lines in fast cars, or leap from bridges into the abyss with just a bit of string tied around their ankles (pictured: Ladies loo at AJ Hackett Bungy, NZ) or heli-hike on a glacier... ok, I have done that last one, but that's not the point.

But even some of the people who do these things say to me: 'You're so brave! I could never do that!'
What? WHAT? Did I give up my place on the lifeboat? Did I fight a vicious wild animal with my bare hands? Did I spend twenty years as a spy behind the lines?

Nope. I tried stand-up comedy.

I did a course - ten of us learning the ropes for a few evenings culminating in a performance at the Royal Court Theatre, Liverpool in front of 200 people (we were each given 20 free tickets for family and friends, so it wasn't an antagonistic audience - but it was still 180 people I didn't know).

You can be taught the basics - choosing a theme to play around with, microphone technique etc - and you can practice your material in a classroom environment to see what works and what doesn't, but ultimately it's you on a stage on your own.

But nobody died.

Nobody died laughing either... and it was very, very scary - not great for my high blood pressure.

I did it again, too - at Bolton Socialist Club. And I haven't ruled out another shot another time, but as a mate of mine says: 'It's better to surprise people by being funny than to stand up in front of a bunch of people who are expecting you to.'

What's the bravest thing you've done?

What brings you here?

2011-11-03T11:10:00.000Z

Free cheese here!

fornicating frosties

metaphor luggage carousel

hot librarian look

bad ass bruises

These are just a few of the search terms* on Google which have led people to my blog (along with Zombie Wombles which inspired this post)

Estimates vary - Wikipedia says that as of February 2011, there were over 156 million public blogs in existence. Other people say there are in excess of 450 million active blogs in English alone, possibly a billion all told - that's 1 in every 6 people blogging. I find this difficult to believe when so many people I know don't have any idea what a blog is!

I 'follow' too many which means I don't read all the posts all the time, and I've been thinking about how I found them in the first place. Sadly I don't remember how it started (if we've followed each other for a while, do remind me if you know!) But probably I mostly come across new blogs in these ways (in order of likelihood):

A blog is recommended to me eg when a blogger I follow posts about their favourite blogs that week, or mentions another blogger positively in one of their posts
If someone's comments on a blog I follow interest me, I'll bite.
If people seem interesting and/or witty on Twitter - I'll check out their blogs.
When a person follows me, I'll look at their blog too.
When someone I know in real life tells me they have a blog, I'll have a look.
If I spot an interesting blog title (or even blog name) on the sidebar of a blog I follow, I'll bite.
Looking up something random on Google (often a picture) I may stumble across a blog I like.

This is all how I find other blogs, not why I choose to continue to read them - that's another story!

But I think there are important lessons here for any new bloggers - that being part of a community and engaging with other people online is vital if you want people to find your blog amongst all the others clamouring for attention.

So tell me - how do you find the blogs you follow? What leads you to them in the first place?

* I would tell you more, but I'm constructing a surreal 'found' poem entirely constructed from search terms people have used to find my blog!

The Shout

2011-10-31T14:11:00.006Z

Simon Armitage* was the first contemporary poet I took a shine to when I stopped regarding poetry as a secret compulsion and started submitting, performing and reading poems.

His poem 'The Shout' had a powerful impact on me. You could read it HERE now but I worry you'll get distracted and go off surfing and end up looking at a series of knitted body parts on a Czech website! So I've embedded a video of Simon reading it below. (Followed, if you have the patience, by a delightfully quirky poem about whales.)

It's the last line that does it. I like the poem and the story which inspired it, but the thing I LOVE is that I will always remember it: like the man can still hear the boy I can still hear Simon Armitage reading out those lines.

That is the impact of a good poem. It is what I want to achieve when I write. The best thing is when someone quotes one of your own lines back at you years later, and yes, it has happened to me.

* Related post - Out of the Blue, Simon's piece on 9/11

Buy it from here: The Shout: Selected Poems

Once upon a time...

2011-10-31T09:00:00.000Z

I'm not sure if it is altogether wise of me to post this Fairy Story for Hallowe'en, but it is rather scary and I just want you to know the sort of thing our lovely 'borrowers' (and staff!) have to deal with.

This video was made by one of the staff at our library - and yes, he did work in the Children's Library, although he's just moved to a very quiet branch used mainly by little old ladies. I should warn you, it is by turns, toe-curling and deeply disturbing - if you don't have time for all of it, click to about half way through and get straight to the gruesome parts!

Don't have nightmares, children!

Cold Calling

2011-10-28T10:16:00.003+01:00

Do you get 'cold calls'? People trying to save you energy, sign you up or sell you something? I give them short shrift, ask them to take this number off their list, but they keep coming. Sometimes I just put them on hold until they go away but I feel mean doing this. Mostly I just hang up to save my time and theirs, but here's what I should say:

The other person knows you are waiting

Thank you for calling my home
I value your calls. You are a valued caller.
Please press your hash key now.

Press one if you are calling
to sell me something I don’t want or need,
have never wanted or needed
will never want or need.

Press two if you are calling
to try and convince me to change my mind
when there is nothing wrong with the one I have.

Press three if you are calling
for somebody other than me
no matter how convinced you are
that I am lying
when I say I am not them.

Press four if you are calling
to shame me into a contribution
to a charity that will use that contribution
to pay people like you
to call people like me.

Press five if you are calling
for information about my lifestyle,
income, habits and desires
- which you think I will disclose
in return for your shoddy free gift.

Press six if you are calling
with a completely unintelligible regional accent,
or speaking as fast as you possibly can, to get it over with, tick the box,
then have to repeat everything three times
because I can not understand a word you are saying.

Press seven if you are calling
from a call centre in the third world
because you will work for lower wages
and your employers don’t have to worry
about health and safety, holidays or unions.

Press eight if you are calling
Because you have to, because you can’t get another job
and you hate doing it and you’re on the brink now,
and if you don’t get a sale tonight they’ll sack you
and who will feed the children?

Press nine if you are calling
the last person on your list
at the end of a twelve hour shift
of saying the same line over and over again
and care even less about your product than I do.

If this is a personal call, please hold for an operator.

© Clare Kirwan

The Blurb

2011-10-25T09:00:00.001+01:00

As promised yesterday when I was bigging up new books by Maria Zanini and Inky Fool, here's the blurb I'll be shortly sending to potential agents about my novel. I welcome comments.

It's the first in a series planned in the same general location with the same main characters:

The (Un)Dead Residents Association

A rom-com with added zom!

Conscientious but accident-prone, Laura Moon* – the council’s new community engagement officer - has discovered shifty goings-on at the Town Hall, but where’s the proof? The planning officer and his files have vanished, one of the Councillors is a little tied up just now – literally – and Laura's efforts at damage limitation have started an escalating cycle of disasters: leaks to the press, community unrest and some residents not being quite as deceased as they used to be.

It's going to take all her witand tenacity to sort out friend from foe and find out what’s really goingon. Who is the mysterious figure lurkingin the cemetery? What ingredients didthe library users put in their ‘special’ recipe? Why do all those builders look so hungry? And how do you get a dead person to hold apress conference?

* I'm still struggling with name for main character - she's about thirty, British lower middle class, bright, quirky, not too 'girlie'. Do we like Laura Moon? What about Julie Moon? Noon? I know I went into all this with you in Naming the fish but I got some very silly answers then... Cressida Trout, Anna NotherMess, Donna Hatt... although The Invisible Woman's suggestion is still in the offing - Liz Pelling (Miss Spelling to you!)

p.s. Although this isn't a horror book - it's more a comic satire - yes there are zombies in it - it was sort of an accident but took the book in a really interesting direction. However it raises the thorny issue of genre. Am I digging a hole for myself here?

New books!

2011-10-24T09:00:00.001+01:00

Everybody's at it - Maria, Inky, even me!

Congratulations to two fellow bloggers with new books out NOW - put 'em on your Christmas list, buy them for your friends, mention them at dinner parties...

Maria Zanini launches her eagerly-anticipate new novel Chain of Souls (Second Chances) for Kindle TODAY. The sequel to 'Devil to Pay' it sounds like a helluva heavenly tale of Angels and soul-hunting.

Also on MY Christmas list is The Etymologicon: A Circular Stroll through the Hidden Connections of the English Language. I know - it sounds rather a mouthful, but it's written by the irrepressible Inky Fool!

If you're interested by the origin of words, the book, like his blog, promises to be bite-sized chunks of wit, erudition and lots of other things we will know the word for once we've read it... I can't wait to get my mitts on this book, which has been compared by The Bookseller to the very popular Schotts Miscellany.

However, you'll have to wait a while longer for my work in progress which I'm still beavering away at. I'm thinking of posting the blurb for it here tomorrow for comments - anyone up for that. Who knows? It could be my book on your Christmas list next year!

Fran-tastic!

2011-10-23T10:30:00.002+01:00

I'm delighted to announce that the normally shy and retiring Fran - author of the very funny and popular 'Being Me' blog - has emerged into the limelight of YouTube.

So in case you don't follow her (and if not why not?) I'm posting one of her comedy/poetry performances below for your weekend edification.

It will appeal particularly to parents of teenagers/young adults. If, like me, your nest has always been empty (except for that cuckoo incident in 1993), I can also highly recommend her other poems about poetry versus sex and getting to 'gwips' with twitter.

Is this a sign?

2011-10-21T11:30:00.003+01:00

I've started collecting pictures of signs that have been adulterated in some way.

It began with this one in Cape Tribulation*, Northern Queensland.

(* Gosh they're great at naming places in Australia!)

It's a nice riff between a standard road hump sign and the 'Beware of the Cassowary' sign just below it.

All it takes is a bit of imagination, a quiet moment and a thick marker pen to bring a smile to pedestrians... without compromising the message of the sign!

This post was partly inspired by a couple of recent other blogs with signs:

The Bloggeress and her (literally) fantastic 'beware of the unicorn' sign.

... and this from Cultural Snow, but...

WARNING I wouldn't go there if I were you or you'll have to watch the cute video and listen to the song and have to look up who Ferdinand Saussure was, getting sucked into Wikipedia and emerge four years later with a Masters degree in linguistics... when you could be here looking at funny pictures!

Gender offenders

2011-10-19T13:00:00.001+01:00

Man, I hate the gendrification of professions! I can just about cope with princess and actress, but loathe 'authoress', or worse (no offense to a fine liverpool poet who styles herself thus) 'poetess'. Maybe it's because it sounds like a diminutive - like 'ette' - a briquette being less substantial than a brick, a maisonette more measly than a maison, a kitchenette more kitsch than a kitchen.

Chairwoman... postmistress... (when I delivered mail (not femail) I called myself a 'postie'), manageress... bleugh!

I like titles like editor, writer, officer, library assistant... ones that make no implied reference to whether you've got dangly bits or not.

A feminist I knew said the word chairwoman was offensive and gender based - because it referred to 'man' within the word 'woman'. But she wasn't happy with chairperson - 'son' being gender specific. She said per'son' should be replaced with 'kin' to incorporate relatives of both genders. She became Chairperkin, but eventually we had to kill her - for the sake of huperkinkind.

I bet no-one ever searches for huperkinkind on Google... nope! I just checked. No results. A triumph for this Blogger(ette).

I'll finish with this list a friend sent me recently:

Ever notice how all of women's problems start with MEN?

MENtal illness!

MENstrual cramps

MENtal breakdown

MENopause

GUYnecologist

AND

When we have REAL trouble, it's a... HISterectomy.

You can't trust an azalea

2011-10-18T08:00:00.000+01:00

I thought I was done with mowing the lawn for this year but that late warm spell had everything burgeoning again - especially the grass and one of the azaleas.

(Azaleas are rubbish at time-keeping. They're the sort of bush that arrives late at parties, forgets birthdays and turns up on the wrong day at an airport. WHO would DO that? ... ahem... erm... I'll come back to that.)

Anyhoo, cutting the grass again I was thinking what I could have in a garden for interest when everything else is dead. The fab picture leading this recent post from Little Nell reminded me of a visit to the the Lost Gardens* of Heligan, Cornwall a couple of years ago.

I absolutely love these sculptures created out of natural features in the landscape.

Here's more about 'living sculptures' and more great pics of the sculptures at Heligan

* Not actually lost. They're very easy to find - as you can see from this map**.

** I suspect the map may have been drawn by an azalea

Look what I got a new one of...

2011-10-16T10:00:00.000+01:00

I feel a Ta-dah! moment coming on...

* drumroll *

... just feast your eyes on this...

* drumroll *

... the all new...

...bespoke...

Many thanks to The Curmudgeon for creating this for me - I was delighted when it turned up in my inbox* completely unprovoked (apart from the fact that, as he mentioned yesterday, my original fisticuff could lead to a broken thumb). He turns out to be not only a curmudgeon, an erudite commentator on the politics of the day and a fine poet (see 'Farewell Doctor Fox' at Poetry24 - and others there)... but a jolly nice chap!

This will be flexed every time I feel another rant coming on!

* Not a euphemism

A Big Rant (about publicity)

2011-10-13T20:30:00.000+01:00

I don't rant a lot - which is a shame because I actually enjoy it - but I'm going to rant now.

I was at an event this week organised by Wirral Libraries. On the way out a friend of a friend (and I'm not dissing her - she's a nice person - but this sort of thing happens ALL THE F***ING TIME!!) said:

'It wasn't very well publicised.'

I HATE it when people say this. How are they expecting to hear about local events? It's not going to be on telly during your favourite programme. No-one's going to knock on your door to tell you about it. Probably no leaflet through the door either - it's a pricey business advertising and really hard to do effectively on a tight budget - especially when you're trying to do it along with your regular job.

I used to work in press and PR so I know my stuff. I now work in libraries where we literally have no budget for promoting our events, or running them for that matter - we made cakes and sandwiches for our Centenary paid for out of our own personal pockets.

So can I just say, for the record (and general principles apply here):

a) It was advertised in the local paper. There was also an article about it - no mean feat as the only guaranteed newspaper space is a paid-for advert and a half page costs around £500. So if you're interested in local events - try checking the local paper. Just a thought.

b) Like author readings? Why not visit your local f***ing library and pick up the f***ing leaflet? Or go online to the council's website or library page on Facebook (try 'friending it' even!) and see what's coming up?

c) It was a poetry event in Wirral. It was on my 'poetry events in Wirral' page which I know you know about. Try checking it out occasionally.

d) The event was sold out

e) You were there, so you must have found out somehow.

I really don't know what people are expecting when they say something wasn't well publicised. As the potential audience for said publicity you have to be open to it, keep looking in places where sorts of things you like would be publicised.

You'd only complain if we found a way of beaming this sort of stuff directly to your brain.

Going through the Motions

2011-10-13T08:00:00.000+01:00

I saw Sir Andrew Motion last night as part of Wirral Bookfest and he was rather charming and very easy on the ear (also the eye, in a Charles Dance sort of way)

He said a couple of things which were really encouraging (to me anyway):

1. That he didn't come from a family that read. But a teacher - Mr Wade - opened up his mind to poetry and "...changed my life. Gave me my life." If I were a teacher I would be so inspired by this - and I needed to know this having just read in this article on 'the rise of rhyme' that:

"As recently as 2008, a survey
of 1,200 British primary school
teachers for the UKLA found that
22% could not name a single poet."

2. How poems are partly the creation of your rational, educated, manipulative, conscious mind (he was talking more about himself than me here!) and partly the murkier depths of the unconscious - so you don't always know instantly what they're going to be about or what form they should take nor should you try too hard to make them conform to shapes they don't want to be.

3. That he tweaks and twiddles, puts away, tweaks again, passes to friends, tweaks, leaves a while, gets published, hates it, tweaks again etc etc

4. That his Poetry Archive project - which makes available poets reading their own work - historic and contemporary is a massive success despite struggling for funds. And with 250,000 unique users and 1,500,000 poems listened to every month more poems are being listened to now than probably in the history of the world.

My only regret of the evening is that I never got a chance to get to the bottom of the story my colleague was telling me about a conversation she'd had with him earlier involving 'moist gussets' - it has to be some kind of 'favourite word' game... hasn't it?

Shelf life

2011-10-12T13:00:00.000+01:00

We've been moving stuff around in the library. The borrowers hate it - they don't know where anything is anymore... and neither do we.

It's like when they move products around in your favourite supermarket. You want cereal and you stumble into biscuits - the Aisle Which Must Not be Visited.

So the audio books are where the DVDs were, the DVDs are where the new books were, the Graphic novels are in non-fiction for No Good Reason and movie-related books are where the audio books used to be (in a different room from all the other non-fiction). Crime is spreading and I haven't seen Chick-lit or it's equal-ops compadre Lad Lit for a bit. I keep finding the Mills & Boon stand in different locations as if it's wandering round of its own volition.

Some books have gone missing completely:

Rough Guide to the Bermuda Triangle
Biography of Lord Lucan
Sheargar - A Pictorial History
Mysteries of the Marie Celeste
The Meaning of Life

Statues

2011-10-11T07:45:00.000+01:00

I just stumbled on this list of statues of the world by height and was astonished to learn that I've never even heard of the top 20. You'd probably have to go to China, Myanmar and Russia to net a decent number of them. There are some big Buddha's out there.

Mt Rushmere is about 50th, Rio's Cristo Redemptor not much taller (I'd have thought it was shorter than Rushmore, It looked tiny when I saw it (right)). Even the Statue of Liberty is only about 28th highest.

But as fas as I could tell (my eyes went funny half way down the list) the tallest statue in Britain is the Angel of the North. But the SECOND tallest is just 'over the water' as we say (meaning not the Atlantic or even the Irish Sea, but the Mersey) in St Helens - Jaume Plensa's Dream - I may have to visit. It'd be rude not to.

This is set to change because Wales is about to build this enormous dragon (left) in Chirk. You heard it here first... unless of course you've already heard it elsewhere.

That article is dated last year and the Stupid Big Horse (not official title) also mentioned has been stabled since, but according to the Welsh Daily Post the dragon is still in the offing.

What else should Britain have a giant statue of?

On the Library Wall

2011-10-08T09:00:00.001+01:00

We put a lot of things on the library wall: posters, pirates, pictures, plaques and post-it notes, fire extinguishers, directions, instructions, clocks and lists.

But last week I was delighted to find myself on this most beautiful library wall at Paraxis. Go over there now! It's rich with treasures - stories, art and poems all related to libraries.

My contribution is about third along on the bottom - each item opens on it's own if you click on it. I especially love Fat Roland's 'Libraries that no longer exist' which is very silly as you'll see from the first line: "Hayle Library: wheeled down th road by monkeys"

I'm afraid it knocks my own '100 words' library-themed competition (which I haven't mentioned here as it was only open to Wirral Library members) off the leader board. This is how I showed our winning entries. It's not nearly so pretty is it?

Games you can play in a library

2011-10-06T08:00:00.004+01:00

Now I don't want to risk monopolizing National Poetry Day (today folks!) but I just thought I'd mention that this year's theme is 'games'.

I assume it refers not just to games in the traditional sense, but to mind games, war games etc and also to sports... which I don't 'do.'

You don't need to be a mastermind to realise lots of games are relevant to library work. Just yesterday I was playing Jenga with the crime books... which is a bit of a taboo. Then someone called my name out, which distracted me: 'Clare Kir...?'

Plunk! I'd dropped them all - it was quite an operation sorting them again - I needed a couple of people to help me scrabble around and then check them. The checkers had been looking for a copy of Othello, or some other trivial pursuit.

One of them - Marj Ong - kept complaining about the draughts in the crime section until I had to poke her and twist her name tag till she shut up and went off to look for a book about pontoon bridges requested by a Mr Cribbage. Then a borrower came up to me and said: "Have you got 'The Hungry Hippo' by Sue Doku?" I said: ' I'll have to check, mate.'

I'd go on, but I haven't the patience...

But before I go, of course I've written a poem for National Poetry Day... but it's quite long so I'll just leave you with the final stanza (I have to say 'stanza' on NPD):

At least in a game at the end of the round
as the bricks fall or the buzzers sound
you slide down the snake without visible bruises,
it's back in the box for the winners and losers:
the tiles and the tiddlywinks, aces and kings
the pawns and Park Lane hotels and such things
and your hurt pride or your pile of winnings,
back in the box till the next beginnings -
operation successful, hippo fed,
game over and time for bed.

Well, looks like there'll be no outdoor games today - there's a cold snap coming. When you've found the 22 games hidden in this post, you can have a look at this game you could play in your local library:

Time Travel - ahhh, it takes you back

2011-10-05T08:00:00.001+01:00

I need to go back in time for this... I was going to post this just before the Doctor Who series finale, but then I missed bits and ended up watching it all on iPlayer, so in my reality we haven't got to the end yet... and we're looking forward to a heatwave... and I am all the characters in a fictitious version of somebody else's life.

Confused? You may find Army of Dave's Guide to Time Travel useful.

I rarely know exactly what's going on in this sort of programme as I spend most of the time muttering darkly about anomalies in the plot. I've enjoyed the re-invention of the Doctor so I should swerve around the plot holes (they're nowhere near as bad as the dreadful latest Torchwood... don't start me on that). It's all tosh after all... and yet I still have unsettling memories of the old Doctor Who, especially that episode where giant slugs squeezed through mines eating people. Urgh.

But anyway - here's what I wanted to share - Bill Bailey's Belgian jazz version of the Doctor Who theme tune... "c'est lui, dans la nuit... Docteur ...Qui!" I heard this when he first did it and have been quoting it to people for eons so was delighted to find it on YouTube. Enjoy...

Cautionary Tales

2011-10-04T07:50:00.000+01:00

I grew up with The Penguin Book of Comic and Curious Verse, as I've mentioned before - and I loved those Cautionary Tales the best.

Matilda with her dreadful lies, Henry King (pictured left) who chewed string, Jim - who ran away from nurse and was eaten by a lion... the great Hillaire Belloc was the author of many of my favourites which can be found, nicely illustrated by The Baldwin Project which 'brings yesterday's classics to today's children.

It wasn't the horrible fates in themselves that attracted me, it was more the style of writing - faux serious, ridiculous rhymes and romping rhythms - and the escalating series of disasters where one thing led to another.

I attempted to write a cautionary tale this week - on the dangers of giving up blogging. It was addressed to Dave, (who is often first to comment on my blog): Reverend East – who gave up his blog but then realised he had nothing better to do. It sorto of works, but it's not nearly dark enough and while I was writing it he decided to start blogging again, which rather spoiled the ending I'd originally planned.

According to Wikipedia, authors of the cautionary tale were not obliged to abide by the usual rules of etiquette and gruesomeness was positively encouraged because they were meant to horrify a small child into Sensible Behaviour and Right Thinking.

I can't help thinking this sort of thing is probably a bit frowned on these days by those same right-thinking people due to their delight in disaster and uncomfortable overtones of child abuse.

There are no right-thinking people still reading this, are there? No? Then here's one you may never have come across . . .

FRANKLIN HYDE

Who caroused in the Dirt and was corrected by His Uncle

His Uncle came on Franklin Hyde
Carousing in the Dirt.
He Shook him hard from Side to Side
And Hit him till it Hurt,

Went the day well

2011-10-02T08:00:00.005+01:00

In case you were worried after my last post, I can now report that my library's Centenary celebrations went even better than 'best case scenario'.

For starters, we were presented with this fantastic cake by the sugarcraft group that meet in the library. A cake made out of books! Cake and books - what more could a woman want? (answers on a virtual postcard!)

Actually, lets start with Friday - comic poet John Hegley was on top form for his performance at the library despite it taking 4 trains to get to us from a gig in Wakefield!

He did some fab new material and yes, we ended up in the pub again, and, yes I gave him a lift again and YES! (everyone kept checking...) I had tunnel money this time! What a nice chap, well worth seeing live if you get a chance - great comic timing, surprisingly good singing and he read some of his fave poets too (a bit stressful as he asked me to find specific poems 10 mins before he started... and we've lots of poetry.)

Anyway, Saturday was the warmest October day on record, and there was a Liverpool / Everton Derby on but we still had hundreds of people turn up to help celebrate our 100th birthday (and no plumbers... although they still haven't finished)

We laid on a splendid 'Edwardian' Cream Tea ... you can see my perfectly edible cucumber sandwiches at the front there, and none of the borrowed china was dropped and nobody drowned in whipped cream.

And the speeches and prize-giving went swimmingly and I didn't even drop all the certificates and the winners read beautifully, including Cath Bore, who has talked about the event in her blog. And I met a few old friends and colleagues, and did a LOT of mingling. I could mingle for England.

The Wirral Ukulele Orchestra were the highlight. It had been a bit touch and go whether they were coming or not right up to earlier this week, but they stole the show with lively renditions of everything from Rawhide to Delilah, with oldies, rock and roll, TV themes, you name it. I'll upload a snippet to YouTube to give you a flavour and pop it on here.

Another plus point - I wasn't the only person who dressed 'in keeping' (which happens to me a LOT) and I even managed to get a group photo of all the staff to prove it.

Centenary Weekend - best and worst case scenarios

2011-09-30T12:33:00.003+01:00

It's the 100th birthday of my library this weekend, with John Hegley tonight and an afternoon of delights tomorrow including Cream Tea, Wirrral Ukulele Orchestra and The Mayor.

Best case scenario:

Hegley's a sell-out sensation, we've bought enough wine and, unlike last time I have money for the tunnel fare if I give him a lift back to Liverpool.

On Saturday, the Mayor arrives at the right moment, says the right things, we've made enough scones, we can actually fit 30 Ukulele players by the counter, the glaziers have removed all the scaffolding and the plumbers have finished installing the central heating or at least made it safe. The 'great' and the 'good' of Wallasey arrive, having spontaneously decided to dress as 1911 gentry, photographers from the local paper capture our finest moments and the library is filled with LOVE which lingers through the winter like your favourite scent.

Worst case scenario:

I have horribly miscalculated dates and Hegley thinks it's next year, the wine is left unattended and 'evaporates' before everyone has arrived, as people file away disappointed one of them falls down a hole the plumbers forgot.

On Saturday the Mayor arrives early just as someone is withdrawing that book with all the penises in the inside cover and the scaffolders are re-enacting Laurel and Hardy scenarios with long poles. It is ridiculously hot. The fire alarm has gone off for no reason so we are ignoring it. The Mayor has some kind of phobia of cucumber sandwiches. The ‘ok’ and the ‘mediocre’ of Wallasey turn up in shell suits and complain about the sandwiches. They have dried out in the heat (the sandwiches, that is) so we call them 'toasted'.

It turns out you can't fit 30 sweaty Ukulele players next to the counter – so they have to use the vertical space. My boss loses her speech and has to improvise – all she can remember is the inappropriate jokes about early 20th Century facial hair that I thought of but we discarded. There are grumblings amongst facial hair present. I have inadvertently bollocksed up the certificates of the writing competition prize winners - a fight breaks out and someone is fatally stabbed with a bic 9mm.

The untested plumbing system, combined with unseasonal temperatures, begins to overheat, starting a small fire in an untrampled corridor of dried out poetry. Within minutes, Rabbie Burns is up in flames. The fire alarm has been going off all afternoon so no-one pays any attention. Anyway you can’t hear yourself think for ukuleles. I realise I have spelt Ukulele wrong on every piece of publicity and invitation. So does the Ukulele leader.

The boss of our department comes after all and chooses this moment to announce changes in staffing... 3 library assistants leave in tears. The fire spreads through Humour and Sport. A small child notices it but is told to ‘Shhhhhh’. Within minutes it has taken hold and there is a stampede to the door. The plumbers have disguised a hole with carpet, into which the Mayor falls, dislodging her coccyx and some piping which fountains water into the reading room. People only escape by surfing out on oversize books about maritime disasters. The photographer arrives in time to get a picture of the bedraggled Mayor lying in a pool of soggy Mills & Boons and scones.

The scent of roasted cucumber sandwiches lingers all winter...

Wirral library to celebrate centenary - What the Wirral Globe says... I think they're banking on the Best Case Scenario, but John looks a bit worried

Bucket List

2011-09-28T15:24:00.001+01:00

I've been putting some thought into a bucket list, lately. You can't put some thought into an actual bucket - it just spills over the edges and makes the idea of a mess on the floor.

I have actually done a lot of the things which might be on the average bucket list: I've performed in Vegas, done stand-up, written a novel (ok, I haven't had one published - picky, picky!). I've back-packed, flat-packed, rat-trapped. I've had several interesting jobs... and I just walked away from some of them. I've set up a charity, had an expense account, been offered food by beggars near the Alhambra. I've been on a camel, in a helicopter, lost at sea in an open boat. I've swum with dolphins, heli-hiked on a glacier, walked on a volcano...

...you all hate me now, don't you?

The trouble is, I can't think of anything much I am burning to do. World peace? Yeah, but I'm realistic. Win a million? Yeah, but I'm not really sure what I'd do with it. (I wouldn't say 'No!' - that would be churlish - but I don't want it enough to get off my bum and go and get it.) I mean what's the point of anything?

Maybe it isn't that I don't want anything in the world, I just rationalise myself into thinking I don't. I know people who do this really well and it's certainly a strategy to avoid disappointment.

But I respect the idea of a list as an impetus to provoke action, so here it is so far:

The List

see the Northern Lights
jump out of a plane ... preferably with a parachute and someone attached to me who knows how to use one
fly a plane
drive across the USA
write a best-selling novel
go on some kind of retreat
get invited to the Oscars
win a major writing competition
eat at a Michelin starred restaurant
jump fully clothed into a swimming pool
get thrown out of a pub for bad behaviour (I'm not nearly bad enough)

What's on your list that I could steal for mine?

Built of Books

2011-09-26T08:30:00.001+01:00

It's my library's Centenary this coming weekend.

We're short of money to splash out on celebs and champagne so earlier in the year I tried (unsuccessfully) to convince colleagues that we should be creative and build a sculpture out of 'withdrawn from stock' books.

Some fall on stony ground.

The task would stretch our limited capabilities at the best of times, but with having new windows put in and all the floors up to accommodate new central heating, everything's a bit up in the air and last-minutey now.

You could argue we've had 100 years to plan this, but if you did you'd probably find an oversize book on modern warfare being applied vigourously to the side of your head, or your nose stuck in Millers Guide to Antiques... and not in a good way, I'm not talking 'browsing' here.

But here are some sculptures we could have made (or better still, forced an itinerant artiste to make) - a book house, or a ring of books or this impressive book tower.

Although I suspect we'd just end up with a random pile of books like this and people pulling out ones from the bottom, asking if they're for sale.

At least we'll have Wirral Ukele Band. And hopefully the plumbers will have fixed all the holes in the floor before the Mayor arrives so she doesn't fall into the abyss like so many of us so nearly have in the last week or so... but you know what they say: 'There's no such thing as bad publicity.'

Google-eyed

2011-09-24T13:47:00.007+01:00

I know they're trying to take over the world (and probably succeeding) but you gotta love Google for the logos it does on significant dates.

Today it would have been the 75th Birthday of Muppet-creating genius Jim Henson so the logo was in honour of him, and fully interactive - you select a character using the buttons under each one and random things happen occasionally - like the red one eating the green one... which I just did a screen grab of ... tee hee!

There's more about how it was created HERE and you can browse through Google's collection of previous logos (which include a 'live' lunar eclipse) HERE so you never have to miss one!

Like me, you may have missed this for Charlie Chaplin's 122nd birthday:

Colours

2011-09-23T10:49:00.000+01:00

I've been tinkering with a short story I started where a librarian goes over the edge (I know - that would never happen!) and sorts all the books into colour order. I'm not sure why I want to write it, what it's trying to say or the precise logistics.

But here's the spooky thing about the internet... the very next thing I did after tinkering with it was browse through some pages I have open in my browser (I use Opera, which has the marvellous feature of remembering the tabs you had open last time you were online and re-opening them for you).

I'd been reading Claire Massey's blog post about the campaign to save Radio 4's afternoon short story (you can sign a petition HERE) and somehow from there I found myself at a blog that reviews short stories and came across this page about ... you guessed it... sorting books into colour order. And of course there's a link in it to Sarah Salway's 'In Good Order' - a short story about...

I don't sort that way, myself of course. My fiction is by author, my non-fiction was in a pretty close approximation of the Dewey Decimal System even before I knew it... as though I had somehow picked it up by osmosis from too many trips to the library.

But when I lived in Israel the kibbutz library was only open for half an hour a week and I found choosing very stressful. It's the only time I resorted to colour. I'd decide to only choose from books with yellow spines that week, or green. That's how I discovered Kurt Vonnegut.

... so how do you sort your books?

Random cars of Cuba

2011-09-21T18:23:00.000+01:00

Yes, I did come back.

Struggling to get back into the groove - 472 emails, work is bonkers, next thing you know I'll be packing all this in...

Anyhoo, Cuba's a fascinating country. Didn't travel around as much as last time (about 10 years ago) so I won't give you a blow by blow account (which would mainly involve lozzing on the beach and drinking copious amounts of rum).

But I did think you might like to see some of the cars that are still gracing the crumbling streets of Havana (and, indeed Varadero).

Out of the Blue

2011-09-11T08:00:00.001+01:00

I've scheduled this post to be published while I'm away for the tenth anniversary of 9/11.

I wanted to share this link to: 'Out of the Blue' - a poem/film written by one of my favourite poets Simon Armitage and performed her by the excellent Rufus Sewell as a British office worker in one of the twin towers. It's in four parts on YouTube and about half an hour in total but well worth sitting through, or even just dipping into.

Excerpt from '10'
...
We are making our calls.
They are tightropes, strung

from the end of the phone
to a place called home
so our words can escape,

our voices trapeze
for mile after mile
or in my case traverse

the width of the sea.
My beautiful wife,
sit down in the chair,

put the phone to your ear.
Let me say.
Let me hear.

We are spinning a web.
But such delicate threads,
the links so brittle,

too little, too late.
Not one can save us
or bear our weight.

I was coming home from Greece the day it happened. The taxi driver from the airport was babbling about the end of the world but I thought he was a bit mad or something. I went to a supermarket to get bread and milk and noticed a crowd in the electronics section. I saw the image and thought it must be some new disaster movie. It takes a while to sink in.

Where were you?

Excerpt from '13'

what false alarm can be trusted again?
What case or bag can be left unclaimed?
What flight can be sure to steer its course?
What building can claim to own its form?
...
What future can promise to keep the faith?

Everything changed. Nothing is safe.

To Cuba

2011-08-30T20:42:00.005+01:00

This is just a short post about Cuba (and a pic of a short post in Cuba.)

I would have mentioned I was going. I would have scanned in pics of my trip 10 years ago - you know the kind of thing: me frolicking with dolphins and downing Daiquiris at one the zillion 'Hemingway drank here' bars, dancers at the Club Tropicana, 1950's automobiles and buena-vista bandsmen - but I'm not going to.

I've not been well.

I'm still not well - and not the sort of 'not well' that will enjoy an 8 hr flight or relish an all-you-can-drink bar.

Also it's hurricane season.

Sorry to sound glum about it. I'm sure it will be very nice. I think I've scheduled one other glum post during my absence. Back in two weeks!

Silent Sunday

2011-08-28T09:00:00.000+01:00

Top 10 job titles

2011-08-26T09:00:00.002+01:00

I'm always envious of people with great job titles, or even just funny or unusual ones. So here's my list of the 10 best or funniest job titles I've heard of.

If you work your way up diplomatic circles* you could be Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary.

Not high-falutin' enough? My friend's great uncle helped to design the building of British ambassadorial buildings for the Empire** in the East Indies. His job title was: Chief Architect of the Eastern Hemisphere

But why on earth limit yourself to, well... Earth? NASA employ a Planetary Protection Officer. You may be wondering whether their role is to protect us from aliens or aliens from us. The answer is: both!

In a similar vein, Apple allegedly have this post: Senior Armageddon Avoidance Engineer. (It sounds scary, but having survived Armageddon once and accidentally missing it another time, I could be just the person!)

Back down to earth, a local authority in mid-Wales made the news last year by renaming lifeguards 'Wet Leisure Assistants.'

Councils are fond of strange projects, teams and persons. Mine has a Teengage Pregancy Strategy Group (who must sit in meetings where someone says: ''I know, let's get them drunk on alcopops and play Justin Beiber songs...") and the Older People's Modernisation Team - which presumably retro-fits grannies with gang tattoos and USB ports. But someone must be in charge. An Older People's Modernisation Team Leader perhaps?

Another council worker has done prize-winning work providing support to the victims of various kinds of intimidation. She's the Domestic Violence Co-ordinator.

A friend of mine was Grand Master of the Masonic Lodge - it made him sound rather dashing but I was very disappointed on attending one of their 'Ladies' Night' dinners when no virgins were sacrificed.

Applicants for the job of S&M Administrator might be disappointed, too, to find it refers to Sales & Marketing. I got that from Worst Job in the World.

I have never had a job with a particularly unusual or amusing title. I suppose I could cross out 'Library Assistant' on my badge and write something more off the wall: 'Senior Junior Under-lender' perhaps. What do you think?

If you DON'T have, and have never had, a groovy-sounding job title, you can generate one using this handy Job Title Generator

If you DO have (or have had) a groovy-sounding job title ... or can convince us that you have ... I want to hear about it!

* Not a euphemism... then again...

** Before they started on the Death Star, that is

Beware of the Borrowers

2011-08-25T11:11:00.000+01:00

Yes, The Borrowers is a book by Mary Norton about tiny people who live behind your skirting boards, and "borrow" things to survive while keeping their existence unknown

It was also a TV series starring a mini Ian Holm and a film with an improbably undersized John Goodman. You can find lots more about them HERE.

But it's quite possible YOU are a borrower too!

What do you suppose library staff call you in private?

'Library users'? No. 'Customers'? No. 'Clients'? Heaven forbid! 'Service users'? NO! 'Civilians'? Well, our porter does, but... no. 'Awkward bloody people'? OK, maybe, sometimes.

You are, of course 'borrowers'.

So it isn't surprising when things go missing from the library.*

I find it both tragic and tremendously heartening that when I search for a picture to illustrate 'library users' Google throws up dozens and dozens of pictures like these:

* We get the occasional book go missing and I've starting compiling a list;

A History of the Bermuda Triangle
Shergar's Greatest Races
Lord Lucan - A Biography
The Mystery of the Marie Celeste

Let's hope that with the Borrowers taking to the streets like this, we won't ever have to add this one to the list:

'British Libraries - Shelved!'

Poor Clare

2011-08-24T11:08:00.000+01:00

Little Nell's excellent story about a certain Canon Hygiene (comments on my last post) has prompted a short foray into ecclesiastical territory...

It reminded me of my innocent friend helping to organise an informal party for the local Bishop. She couldn't understand why we all insisted she mustn't call it 'The Bishop's Bash.'

You may recall my useful, if mathematically flawed Nun Theorum. But they don't (to my knowledge) publish an I-spy Book of Nuns, so it's not easy to tell a Carmelite from an Ursuline, a Dominican from a Benedictine. But I particularly object to the Poor Clares.

Not because of their vows of extreme poverty - which makes a nice change for the Catholic Church - or because St Clare is the patron saint of television, which seems so much less worthy and romantic than being the patron saint of lost causes, small mammals or lepers. (You can swot up on this in Christopher's excellent Useful Guide to Patron Saints). .. and anyway Even if television needs a patron saint, St Clare seems a poor choice because with that vow of poverty she wouldn't have been able to afford one even if she hadn't been 800 years too early.

No, I hate them because 'Poor Clare' is what they called me at home, in a rather sarcastic way, when I felt sorry for myself as a kid. As a matter of fact I feel sorry for myself right now, having had a rough week accumulating various concurrent malaises - the sordid details of which I won't go into here. Poor Clare!

So, to cheer myself up, here are some risque jokes about nuns:

Mother Superior is soaping herself in the bath one day when there's a knock at the door.
'Who is it?'
'There's a blind man here who wants to talk to you,' says one of the sisters.
The Mother Superior thinks if he's blind there's no harm, so she tells the nun to send him in.
The blind man marches in and says: ' Phwoar, tits on that! Now where do you want these blinds?'

Two nuns on bicycles
Nun #1: I've never come this way before.
Nun #2: Neither have I. It must be the cobblestones.

Two nuns are on a train, when a flasher comes in and exposes himself.
One faints and one has a stroke.

Two nuns driving down a dark and stormy road one night when suddenly there's a flash of lightning and the Devil himself is sitting on the bonnet of the car.
'Quick!' says the one who's driving. 'Show him your cross.'
So the second nun leans out of the window and shouts: 'Get off the f***ing bonnet you asshole!'

Nominative determinism

2011-08-20T08:00:00.001+01:00

Nominative de-WHAT-ism? Nominative determinism

We've all had a dentist called Mr Paine, haven't we? Or come across Mr Bun the baker (ok, maybe not that last one.)

I used to work in a bank where there was a business account for Messrs Costall and Deer - I never found out what they did, but they sound pricey.

There's an article at The Behaviour Effect about whether people are influenced by their names.

A well-documented example of the phenomena is a legendary article in the British Journal of Urology by Splatt and Weedon.

I was on the lookout for books to illustrate what I'm talking about here, and came across: ‘A journey around the world' a cycling memoir, by David Sore.

We have a borrower who is always after Star Wars books (there's lots of them, you know!). His name is Luke Walker. I asked him if his middle name was 'Sky'. It isn't. It ought to be. I wonder if it is just co-incidence or he was influenced towards Star Wars because his name was so similar to the hero.

I've recall reading this post from the Inky Fool about cardinals and it reminded me of the aptly named Cardinal Sin of Manila - who I already mentioned in this post - which only one person read at the time. 8-( *sad face*

Anyway, it got me wondering if it would be possible to rise above your station through the clever choice of name? A sort of elective nominative determinism - which I'll be writing more about at some point, once I've collected enough silly names.

For example, who could resist promoting a Sergeant de Sturbance to Major, Private Punishment to Corporal or an Able Seaman T. Arch to Admiral?

What Masonic Lodge wouldn't be tempted to make Mr Flash their Grand Master?

And then there's the other side of the coin - have any of us been compelled to take up certain jobs or course of action because our names decreed it? Would someone called Mr East feel compelled to live in East Anglia? Would someone called Mr Naylor feel drawn to the hammer as weapon of choice?

More examples can be found at Ampers& but first, here's a bit of nominative determinism fun below from the 'I'm Sorry, I Haven't a Clue team' with late arrivals to the Vicar's Ball.

You can watch it while I contemplate whether to B. Silly with any of my characters names.

On Writing

2011-08-19T08:00:00.002+01:00

Four things that happened last week have got me back into finishing my novel.

1.
Having been accepted for Flashmob - one of Lancaster Litfest's publications I was invited to a professional development workshop for writers, which reminded me what my own priorities are, helped me set goals and reinvigorated me.

2.
Before going there, I re-read the 60,000 words I've written so far of my novel (untouched for months) to see if it was worth pursuing. It was funny (it's ok, it's supposed to be) and readable and I got excited about it again.

3.
Then, on the train to Lancaster I finished Stephen King's 'On Writing' - a book that is often highly recommended to writers by other writers.

It's a curiosity - part interesting autobiography, part no frills 'how to write' guide from someone who's work I find very readable. Like many writing manuals, the author has strong ideas on the best way to produce a novel, things you must or mustn't do. Fine if it works for him, but it's best to take from writing guides the advice you recognise as appropriate for your own way of working. Some great common sense hints and tips.

Key tips:

Write
Read
Assiduously avoid adverbs.

These first two are pretty obvious but plenty of 'writers' don't do that much of either - I've been guilty myself.

4.
And fourthly, I've been reading Elmore Leonard's 'When The Women Come Out To Dance' - an inpsiring masterclass in short fiction packed with sparely-written mini dramas, fascinating characters, evocative locations. (Elmore Leonard's top tips - which also have it in for adverbs - are at the top of this excellent Guardian list of Top Tips from Authors)

So that's what I'm doing when I'm not doing this.

Popcorn post

2011-08-15T07:30:00.005+01:00

There's this movie meme going about - I got it from Dave who got it from Tim who got it from Annie - be sure to wash your hands or you'll be doing it too!

This sort of thing is a terrible chore when you're as indecisive as me. I started it after going to the pictures on Saturday night to see the last Harry Potter (ho hum) and just gave up on it now...

1 Movie you love with a passion.
This changes - it has been Pulp Fiction and Brazil, but I'm going to plump for Love Actually *blushes*

2. Movie you vow to never watch.
'Jackass - the Movie'

3. Movie that literally left you speechless.
'Threads' - unutterably harrowing

4. Movie you always recommend.
'Galaxy Quest' - it's a hoot, especially if you're a fan of sci fi. I've been recommending 'In Bruges' a lot lately, too - I didn't think I'd like it but it won me over. And 'Fargo'

5. Actor/actress you always watch, no matter how crappy the movie.
There are a few: Anthony Hopkins, Katherine Hepburn, Judi Dench, Johnny Depp, Al Pacino, Hugh Jakeman, Robert Downey Jr, Christopher Walken, Ciaron Hinds, Jean Reno - they just rise above the subject/setting/script

6. Actor/actress you don’t get the appeal for.
All those shiny rom-com types

7. Actor/actress, living or dead, you’d love to meet.
Not keen on the idea of dead actors and actresses turning up! And wouldn't turn away any living ones.

8. Sexiest actor/actress you’ve seen. (Picture required!)
I used to have a big thing for Richard Burton when I was 13 (what was that all about?) This is where my formatting goes to pot as I attempt to add several pics for your/my delectation.

People I've found surprisingly sexy: Al Pacino (in 'Sea of Love'), Ciaron Hinds (not that famous but he's got 'something' for me).

Plus the usual suspects: Antonio, George, Hugh

9. Dream cast.
See above. I love spotting all my fave Brit charcater actors in Harry Potter too - though seeing Cairon Hinds as Dumbledore's brother in the last one put me off him a bit!

10. Favorite actor pairing.
Can't think - maybe Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster in The Silence of the Lambs (which they're remaking in Liverpool as 'Shut Up Ewes')

12. Favorite decade for movies
I refuse to choose

13. Chick flick or action movie?
Which do Coen Brothers come under? I hate action sequences for the sake of them but I like both if done well. The script is the important thing, not the genre.

14. Hero, villain or anti-hero?
Because none of this is real, I can choose the villain without anything bad happening can't I? They're often more interesting characters and I'm a sucker for the possible redemption at the end. So yes, I tend to side with Darth Vader, Phantom of the Opera, Hannibal Lector.

15. Black and white or color?
Either - depends on the movie. I've been known to turn the colour off if I'm watching something scary (also the sound).

Hoodies and baddies

2011-08-11T11:04:00.004+01:00

There were even riots in Birkenhead the other night - just a few miles from me. Main targets: parked cars, Ladbrokes and the Big Mac.

It takes me back to the second lot of Toxteth riots. It was late September/ early October 2005.

Myself and my brand new hubby were both Special Constables at the time (there's a picture of me in uniform in this post: I'm no Sherlock).

That was some honeymoon!

I was just saying on Facebook that although I own several hoodies I never broke a window I didn't own. This sparked two debates - one about syntax and one about whether the hoodie is the person or the garment. I say the latter.

Call me a fuddy-duddy, but I say these laddies don't need a ruddy hoodie to be baddies. And a lad could be a goodie even if he wears a hoodie. Although he'd be a bloody baddie had he worn a 'goodie' hoodie and then attacked your daddy. Someone should do a study.

Anyway, this is really just a short post to direct you to more interesting places:

My poem on the aftermath 'The morning after' is at Poetry24 today

There's a very good article on the riots in the Telegraph: The underclass lashes out

Nathaniel Tapley's open letter to Mr Cameron's mum gets really pertinent after the first paragraph

Libya calls on Britain to 'exercise restraint' and Delhi questions whether London is ready to host the Olympics in this Guardian article on Schadenfreude (thanks to @MediocreDave for sharing that with me!)

Some more funny hoodies (garment): 20 Cool Hoodies - incl superheroes of your choice.

Arrrrrrrrrr!

2011-08-08T07:51:00.007+01:00

I muster mentioned the Mersey Pirate Muster that is - which took place in 'sunny' New Brighton just a few miles from where I live on Sunday.

Here's my pirate gear. I do have 'previous' of being the only person to turn up in fancy dress ... so was I the only pirate in New Brighton?

I think not! Phew! Not like the 'superman' incident and the 'skeleton' incident. Lots of pirates, lots of people saying 'Yaaarrrrrg!'

Here's me and Admiral Gorman in his regalia. Sadly I suspect that he, like myself, didn't need to buy a single item for the outfit, but had all the necessary items at home! (Although you may notice my sword is actually a slightly-modified light-sabre. The force is strong with me.)

Fort Perch Rock in New Brighton is a defence installation built in the 1820's in a spectacular location in the mouth of the Mersey.

Is it me, or are pirates looking younger these days?

Anyhoo, there were lots of canons and muskets, big bangs (although no new universes were created to my knowledge) and running about and shouting.

And despite having turned up on my lonesome I met quite a few people that I knew (eg Pete in the final pic - who probably dresses like this all the time!).

Although notable by his absence was Adam, creator of this sterling exercise in the 3 'arrrr's of pirate-speak': A Pirate Language Course'.

I'm thinking of organising a zombie walk in Liscard next. But who will be able to tell?

Extreme reading

2011-08-07T14:29:00.004+01:00

Last week, I was disturbed by this post on 'Dave - the Blog', to learn that some people are in the habit of getting their novels wet whilst reading in the bath.

Some of the confessions that came out in the comments page my pages curl!

The threat of damage during extreme reading is one of the reasons that 34% of people say they would never risk a Kindle (OK, I made percentage up.)

I mean it's one thing to lose a Penguin modern classic down a crevasse or drop a Dorling Kinersley from a moving aircraft, but you wouldn't want to be replacing expensive electronic equipment every time you go heli-hiking on a glacier.

Just imagine all the terrible things that could happen to it if you took to taking it where you normally do your reading:

If you have time for a little more reading right now and don't mind having your head explode, have a look at John Olsen's 'Extreme Reading' essay over at the Glade of Theoric Ornithic Hermetica. (Nope! I didn't make that one up!)

Some of these pictures are from BBC London and some from Court Fields Community School - I assume they are teachers and have gone to great lengths to make their point - whatever it is. Sadly there's only a couple of comments from ungrateful pupils!

Invisible, too

2011-08-05T10:00:00.001+01:00

Inspired by the art of Liu Bolan, which I wrote about yesterday, I spent the night with my paints in an attempt to emulate one of his 'Hidden in the City' photographs.

Here I am, hiding in plain site in the library. I think you really will struggle to see me, so good is my camouflage.

Not bad for a first attempt eh?

And here's a bit of a poem about being invisible:

The other day, I became invisible:
stumbled into, trodden on and brushed aside,
pulled out in front of at junctions, roundabouts.
I tried smiles – which were returned unopened.
I raised my hand, but no-one let me speak.
I was stared through – not like I was a window,
but more a grey area or just a feeling
that has to be endured or struggled through.
I went home defeated, was not welcomed,
looked in the mirror. There was no-one there.

China's 'Invisible Man'

2011-08-04T10:15:00.002+01:00

I may have been a bit invisible lately, and a bit... erm ... patterned. But it is nothing compared to the Chinese artist Liu Bolin who paints himself to match particular locations so as to appear invisible in them.

These pictures are from a series called 'Hiding in the City' - each one can take up to ten hours to get just right.

It is both a way of protesting the Chinese government’s persecution of artists, and also about not fitting into society.

I wouldn't usually quote the Daily Mail (did I mention we have to keep it 'under the counter' at the library because it was getting stolen all the time?!?) but this quote is from an interesting article about him HERE: He said:

'Some people call me the invisible man, but for me it's what is not seen in a picture which is really what tells the story.

'After graduating from school I couldn't find suitable work and I felt there was no place for me in society. I ... had a feeling that no one cared about me, I felt myself unnecessary in this world.

'The situation for artists in China is very difficult and the forced removal of the artist's studio is in fact my direct inspiration of this series of photographs.'

I'm no expert on art, but I sort of understand the feeling. Do any of you have 'invisible' days too?

An online gallery of his pictures is featured at Eli Klein at least until the end of September

Jolly Roger

2011-08-01T09:00:00.002+01:00

Ahoy there!

There's a Pirate's Muster at Fort Perch Rock in New Brighton this Sunday 7th August!... possibly a record-breaking one.

And I'm not just dusting off me tricorn hat in the attic, unhanging me stuffed parrot from the conservatory and sharpening me cutlass. I'm going the whole hog - I'm having me leg off. Then all I'll need is a Jolly Roger.*

It's alright for me old mum - she's already had an eye out.

I felt there was an opening for a piratical poem... watch this space.

* Do you know where the term Jolly Roger comes from? No? Neither does anybody else. The Wikipedia entry lists several possible origins of the term - none of which is entirely convincing.

p.s. Of course, I shouldn't be telling you any of this... you're only supposed to mention pirates when there's an Arrrrrr in the month!

Lowest common denominator

2011-07-29T14:41:00.000+01:00

I was going to apologise for being completely distracted by my recent injury and spare you further pictures.

But...

...then I got to thinking: amongst all my posts - literary, philosophical, scenic, comic, informative - the blog and Facebook posts which have attracted by far the greatest number of comments were about a bruised bum. Poems too!

Some came to offer sympathy, some to laugh, some out of ghoulish interest in injury, some - it is barely possible - just to look at my buttocks* and some just because everyone else was looking.

It certainly appealed to a broad section of the general populace... in other words, my bruised ass is 'the lowest common denominator'.

From a Public Relations perspective this is fascinating. How can we harness this for publicity purposes? Would it be possible to promote library events more efficiently by slightly injuring endearing, scantily-clad lovelies? Why has no-one thought of titillating the public with semi-nudity and the vague threat of physical harm before?

What? Oh... er... yes...

*gets coat*

* ... which are, apparently, more toned than anyone expected, putting paid to rumours about librarian's bottoms. I told you - it's hard work in a busy library!

The Bruise - Day 3

2011-07-27T15:00:00.009+01:00

If you think my bruised bum was bad on Monday - look at it now!

I haven't had one this bad since I was married.

Don't worry - I'm not going to post pics of my bum every day. I did get a lot of interest on Facebook (now retitled Buttockbook) on this issue, but I'm not sure I've had quite enough sympathy yet.

No flowers? No chocolate?

I bet I even get rejected by NiceBruise.com

p.s. Still no flowers or chocolate, but a MrKenyon has written me this:

Stop the presses - hold the news
Clare has got a massive bruise
Was it painful? - did she moan?
Has Rupert Murdoch hacked her phone?
A story for us all to share
Clare lost out
To a Garden Chair

How to avoid damaging your lobelia

2011-07-25T06:55:00.003+01:00

This was going to be my 'Silent Sunday'* pic - a lovely Pimms in the sun - but Sunday wasn't quite so silent... what with the screaming in the undergrowth.

It started with me innocently trimming my foliage. I was standing on a plastic garden chair, giving my clematis a good tug**...
...when one of the legs fell off (the chair's not mine) - sending me plummeting three feet.

It could have been nasty - I could have landed on the red-hot poker** or crushed my lobelia**. But don't worry - the broken pointy corner of the chair broke my fall.

So I've sprained my good blogging wrist and what's more...

suffered this magnificent bruise and swelling in my general buttock area.

I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be posting this sort of picture on the internet.

It's the thin end of the wedge.

p.s. spookily, as I was recovering (which did involve another Pimms, and a gin and tonic just to be sure) the recliner broke as well!

I live in fear of all seating now... waiting for number 3...

but sofa so good.

* Linky where you just post a picture which speaks for itself, no title, no caption.

** Not a euphemism

Here lies...

2011-07-21T13:50:00.001+01:00

My series of posts last year on short forms of writing was incomplete - it covered the shortest of short stories, tiny rhymes, haiku and filthy limerick but didn't finish off with a good epitaph.

The Penguin Book of Comic and Curious Verse had some excellent examples:

Billy, in one of his nice blue sashes
Fell in the fire and was burned to ashes.;
Now, although the room grows chilly,
I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy.
Harry Graham

Mary Ann has gone to rest,
Safe at last on Abraham's breast,
Which may be nuts for Mary Ann,
But is certainly rough on Abraham.
Anon

The perfect place for an epitaph is the gravestone: the last empty page that any of us can hope to write upon ... with no room for superfluous detail. Short of having yourself or your loved one stuffed, how can we immortalise someone who's passed? And can you sum up a life on a piece of granite?

This chap could:

Here lies my wife:
Here let her lie!
Now she's at rest
And so am I.

Ideally, it would be better if you, or someone who actually liked you were left this task. W.B Yeats took no chances by writing his own:

Cast a cold Eye
On Life, on Death.
Horseman, pass by!

But one wonders if the deceased would have approved sometimes:

"Here lies Lester Moore,
Four slugs from a forty-four.
No Les,
No Moore."
(Boothill Cemetery, Tombstone)*

"Here lies John Yeast,
Pardon me for not rising."
(Cemetary in Ruidoso, New Mexico)*

Perhaps the most famous tombstone inscription (although it has been used several times before his death - perhaps by fans who pre-deceased him) is Spike Milligan's:

'I told you I was ill.'

Interestingly, the inscription had to be written in Gaelic to be approved by the Chichester Diocese)

So what would you like to see on your gravestone? Or, indeed, mine?

* Both sourced from Funny and Famous Tombstone Epitaphs

Book: Gravestones, Tombs and Memorials: Symbols, Styles & Epitaphs (England's Living History)

'Found' Poetry

2011-07-20T08:00:00.002+01:00

Have you heard of 'found' poetry?

It's when you see something written down that's not supposed to be poetry but has some kind of resonance for you. I often look at some little piece of writing...

"Everything must go"

"Keep out of the reach of children"

...and think it has hidden messages.

It's alright, I'm not schizophrenic, I'm a poet.

There are a couple of nice examples on Wikipedia, including this taken from pieces of text in "An Elementary Treatise on Mechanics":

Hence no force, however great,
can stretch a cord, however fine,
into a horizontal line
which is accurately straight.

I mention all this only because I have a deeply autobiographical poem called 'Certificates' in a brand new online publication out this week: Found Poetry.

My poem uses phrases taken from my certificates of birth, marriage and....

...divorce (hands up who thought I was going to get all spooky and say 'death'?)

I'm in two minds about some of the other poems in this publication which make new poems from phrases in other people's existing ones... which seems a bit cheaty to me.

So, just out of interest, why don't you look around you for phrases in instructions, manuals, signs, magazines, begging letters, sermons and statute books... and put your mini 'found' poem in the comments?

A Segue

2011-07-18T10:00:00.000+01:00

A segue is a smooth transition from one topic or section to the next... speaking of which...

...Did you hear what happened to the owner of the Segway company? You mustn't laugh.

They should add something to the Segway website's saftey guidelines along the lines of:

Caution:

Don't drive this vehicle over a cliff

I wrote a poem about it for Poetry24 but my co-editor rejected it! (So much for favouritism in the world of literati!)

What a (seg)way to go!

He was a free-wheelin’ sort of guy,
but now he’s cold and stiff.
He died of an act of courtesy...and segwaying over a cliff.

Moody black & white

2011-07-17T12:30:00.003+01:00

So.

In Friday's post some of you thought I should use a more arty pic instead of the flower?

Something moody in black and white?

I've tried experimenting with the 'moo-dy black and white', as you can see in this picture.

I'm not convinced.

By the way - I took my flower with me to the festival as I'd only 'met' some of the people there on the internet... it made it easy for them to know who I was.

So the flower's staying.

I'll save the moody black and white for the more prestigious publications... when I'm in the right mooooooood.

Other places where I was...

2011-07-15T14:25:00.002+01:00

Even if I haven't been on my own blog much lately, I'm all over the web like a rash:

My poem Division of the Spoils won 2nd place in the rhyming category of Northampton Literature Competition (and fellow blogger Peter Goulding of The Stammering Poet came 2nd in the Humour category - his poem is up there too!).

My poem The day our prayers turned into dogs has been published in the 'God(s)' issue of The Shit Creek Review.

Another short poem, Excavation is in the Shot Glass Journal.

A couple of 100 word micro fiction stories are up on Flashshot too... though this link only shows the last ten, so they'll have gone in a few days if you're reading this later!

Also, you can read (or listen to me reading) my story: Brother - killed by radiator at Lancaster Litfest's Flashmob - Flax026

I've mentioned that one before, but I forgot to say that they also did a whole biography and a photoshoot - which was kind of embarrassing... especially when I saw the results!

So, what do you think - should I go with the moody b&w (and I mean the one on the right, not my 'grumpy cow' picture) or should I stick with the cheery, cuddly flower motif ?

Where was I?

2011-07-14T16:50:00.004+01:00

Last week was a rollercoaster ride - with both the queasy 'wanna get off' descents where you leave your heart somewhere and the 'Wahey! Look at that view! What a feeling!' high points.

(Also, the 'far too much excitement'/'that was fab, let's do it again!'/'gotta go lie down'/'next time I'll just hold the coats' mixed feelings as you stagger away.)

I've thrown up some images here - mainly high points. Here's the kiddies craft workshop I 'helped' run. I don't know what to do with children, having none of my own (or anyone else's). Martin (Square Sunshine) said not to talk to them like they're children, so I treated them like they were 35. It sort of worked but some of my jokes fell flat.

These are labels I hand-made for the Poet Tree... and the little bits that fell out of the hole punch or were snipped off the corners which I keep finding in every orifice and aperture ... of the house!

People were encouraged to write a poem or quote a favourite poem and hang it on the birch in front of a local Church on the main road.

Youngsters wrote their name, artists drew a little picture. Poet 'A' didn't (to the best of my knowledge) write anything about masturbation - he saved that for the family friendly venue. *sigh*

And here's a rabble of people absolutely not 'swinging on the tree', Vicar!

Here are poets massing for attack - and less confused that expected given that someone (not me) had decided to veer so decisively from the printed programme (the one with MCs for each venue, where the quiet people didn't have to shout in the busy pubs, and visitors knew what was going on - the one that was agreed.)

We had 60 poets performing in half a dozen venues and 'on the streets'. More than 300 musicians and 120 artists took part in the festival weekend.

Here's me being a zombie with guest poet Kate Fox. She was marvelous - and would have had a better audience if someone (again, I'm not responsible) had actually booked the venue and we hadn't had to change it at 3 days notice. Also, it would have helped with publicity to get the final lineup more than 5mins before the start. You're reading between the lines aren't you? Yes, there have been traumas. Caught up in the moment, I forgot to take more pics. Below are some other people took.

But you know what? It was crackingly good! There was a real sense of community and feel-good factor about it - and no-one had seen that many people in Hoylake since the Open Championship in 2006... which I'll tell you about that one of these days.

I haven't slept for worry, wasted time on things that were changed later, have overloaded the internet so it keeps conking out now, probably shouldn't have tried to squeeze 3 parties into the mix, had a few fights, house is a mess, rest of my life had to be put on hold... but at least it was fun in the end, I met some lovely people and almost everyone's happy!

Now, where was I?

The Fine Art of Organising an Arts Festival

2011-07-08T15:32:00.005+01:00

I've been neglecting you.

What? You hadn't noticed?

Some late recommendations further to my earlier instructions. If you're ever helping out at an event, it might be worth bearing in mind these hints and tips:

1. Actually book the venue before you advertise it and print the tickets. It may have a youth club on that night every week. You never know.

2. Also, If you're planning a series of performances in local pubs and wine bars, it might be a plan to mention it to the people who run them

3. Don't get involved in organising events with someone whose main experience has been throwing custard pies at people and wearing odd socks

I've been designing posters. I won't put this one up in the church, probably. But it's so-o-o tempting.

Selling your soul / the universe on eBay

2011-07-01T12:48:00.002+01:00

My flash fiction piece OTHER ITEMS / SOULS / USED is on Flashshots today HERE ... or if you're reading this later, it should still be in the Last Ten Flashes

But that's nothing compared to the true story about the chap who tried to sell the universe on eBay last week:

"At 13.7 billion years old, it is in need of some modernisation. There are some black holes, but these can be sorted with a lick of magnolia paint. Though it’s quite roomy, we’d suggest knocking through an extension into a parallel universe.

Included in the sale: 30 billion trillion observable stars. We think there may some more in the attic. If we find them, we’ll throw them in.

Indeterminate number of planets – Some rocky. Some gas. One – interestingly – made entirely of nougat.

Life in all its form and splendour. And Chris Moyles. Sorry.

Full deeds and meaning of life written on the back of a cigarette packet."

eBay took the auction down, but I highly recommend reading the full description and the very funny questions and answers it prompted, which have been posted for posterity on this Army of Dave blog post: The Man Who Sold the World.

Here's just another little taster...

Q. Does this item come supplied with the full compliment of dimensions necessary for operation? Don’t worry if not, i’m sure i can grab a few counterfeit dimensions from china.

A. We’ve hidden a 7th dimension somewhere. See if you can find where we put it. I think you’ll be surprised.

Q. Can you please provide the exact width and length so I can work out whether it will fit in the back of my car. It’s a Ford Fiesta, but it’s got plenty of boot space when I fold the seats flat.

A. Its constant expansion means you’d probably be better off getting a Transit.

Q. Hiya – I am having a bugger of a job finding a present for the missus 40th quite happy to collect, but can you gift wrap it please?

A. What a lovely husband you are. Yes, I have some string theory that should tie it all together nicely.

Q. Can you tell me the number of dimensions, something I’ve been wondering for some time? S. Hawking.

A. Think of the biggest thing you can. No, bigger than that…. No, bigger than that… No, bigger than that… No, bigger than that… No, bigger than that… No, too big. Start again.

Advice on the Organisation of Arts Festivals

2011-06-29T13:30:00.001+01:00

Give it a sensible name.
If it isn’t the biggest, the best, the first,
call it something else – something that fits.
Don’t aspire for international acclaim at the outset;
national accolades will suffice, or even better start
with those thoughts only in your head, unspoken.

Don’t alarm the sponsors with wild gesticulations.
Do not frighten the skittish volunteer
with inflated numbers and aspirations -
she would pull together 50 poets but cannot muster 400
without more time, more help and valium -
nor give the task to the boy who says he can do anything, everything
then doesn’t.

Don’t say too soon we’ll laugh about it later.
Don’t claim to have an army of volunteers
when there are only ten. Don’t leave
most of the publicity to the final week
... and to the boy who says we will do anything, everything
then doesn’t.

Don’t speak in generalisations or hyperbole
to journalists who will print it all as gospel
– they get little enough right as it is,
give them a chance at truth.

Don’t change your mind and say it was ever thus.
Don’t promise a kazoo band and a record-breaking attempt
at the highest number of people to recite Hamlet’s soliloquy in unison,
when you have only your own kazoo, your own voice.

Don’t get carried away with the dream
when no-one else is even sleeping.
But don’t be dissuaded by the nay-sayers, or discouraged by
those who sit resolutely at meetings offering nothing
or the others - who write a list of criticisms
in a poem for a cheap laugh
when they know just how hard this is.
Trust them to help you.

Don’t be crushed by
the silence of the crowd at the call for volunteers.
nor send the pedants packing with a wave of your hand
– you may need them later.

Don’t forget:
You cannot actually paint the town red
(There are rules about that sort of thing)
You cannot hide the musicians.
You cannot hood the artists.
You cannot herd the poets.
You cannot do all of this alone, nobody can,
especially the boy who says he will do anything, everything
then doesn’t.

Wall Rage

2011-06-28T06:55:00.000+01:00

By popular demand, part umpteen of the continuing saga of my neighbour's wall.

Those who've recently joined us can catch up in these posts: My Builder Hell, A Blank Canvas and Bl**dy Builders. In brief - neighbours I don't get on with anyway knocked down the low party wall between our two side passages and built - in a very drawn out and intrusive way - an extension where the new party wall is now the side of their house and 4m high.

In short, very tall.

I solicited suggestions here - a mural, climbing wall or squash court? - but you all said to plant nice things up it to detract from the utter, utter brickiness of it.

There's also the issue of their new patio which is raised to such exalted heights that it now affords a fine vantage point over my garden, negating the major selling point of the wall, which was to 'improve privacy'.

Incident number 1

Anyway, throughout this whole saga, there have been 'words' and voices have been raised, and last week I did end up hosing down their 2 year old grandchild.

That sounds bad, doesn't it?

Let's go back a bit. Not long ago the man next door decided to climb up and hose down the builder-grubbied roof of their new conservatory... all over my line of nearly-dry washing! So they've got 'previous' as they say in the cop shows. So when another line of washing got doused by a big jet of water spraying over the fence, I took it badly, and ran down to complain to the daughter who had given the hose to her child.

'He's only two,' she said. That parental cop-out that excuses all behaviour. Not a word of apology.

'I'm not shouting at him, I'm shouting at you,' I shouted.

There followed a lively discourse about consideration for neighbours, effective supervision, it being a free country and the sainted child being within his rights to do as he pleased.

I was taking the (now damp again) washing in when another big jet of water came over, wetting myself and more of the washing. Then the red mist came....

It's ok. I wasn't aiming for the child, or her particularly, and there were no screams. And it was only water.

'I think you're being very childish!' She shouted.

And she wasn't wrong. But that's how it gets you. She's lucky I didn't have a weapon, like this!

Incident number 2

And now they're complaining about the wisteria we've planted up 'their' wall. And, especially, the little tiny hooks we put in to hold a wire to train it a bit.

'What do you think you're doing!!' Screams the missus. 'You mustn't put anything up our wall - we paid for that!'

I know I should just walk away, but I can't help engage. I am, to be fair, a bit stressed at the moment and this isn't helping. I just can't bear injustice. So there followed an escalating discourse on the concept of 'party wall' - even if you pull it down and rebuild it, it's a party wall. Though if they think we shouldn't put anything in it on this side, that probably explains why they haven't put our side gate back, which was removed when they took the original wall down!

Grrrrrrrr!

How Orange would you like it?

2011-06-25T13:55:00.002+01:00

While you're all deciding which blog post I should write, I'm popping in this one as it's quick and this is my lunch break.

One of the ways library work is theraputic (and there are others) is the cutting out of paper with blunt-ended scissors for displays to to promote events/themes.

I still haven't worked out if it's to satisfy an inner need in the Borrowers or ourselves.

This was our year to host Wirral's celebration of the Orange Prize for fiction so everything had to be orange: displays, posters, tickets, books, clothes, balloons. These pics are just the tip of the orangeberg.

I had to be orange too - having unilaterally declared myself 'Poet in Residence' at the library (well, we didn't have one). But I had no poems involving oranges. (Not like my mate Colin's 'Zen and the art of peeling an orange' (2nd poem down on that link) - but I couldn't use one of his as they usually involve genitalia and this is no exception). And nothing really rhymes with orange anyway.

These pics don't do justice to just how orange the library was that night. I read my (non-orange) poems and the Borrowers were lovely and Nothing Bad Happened.

I'll have to think about what else a 'Poet in Residence' should do - any ideas?

p.s. One of the books that didn't win was Roomby Emma Donaghue - an extraordinary book that is quite heart-stopping in the middle, and which you emerge from, hours later, looking at the world in a slightly different way. Highly recommended.

Here's some blog posts you COULD have had

2011-06-24T11:13:00.001+01:00

Yes, yes. I know!

I may appear to have been letting the grass grow between the keys, but I've been rather busy and the blog has slipped by the wayside.

I realised I was spending the equivalent of one working day* a week doing this blog (and the same co-editing Poetry24), which doesn't leave much time for other stuff.

So my blog posts may become shorter, or there may be more gaps in between posts - which is better?

Here's a list of blog posts I would have written in the last week or so:

How Orange do you want it? (me declaring myself Poet in Residence at the library in time for the Orange Prize)
Reminiscences of the Fiesta of the Gran Poder de Senor Jesus in La Paz (with nose-picking showgirls in sequins and feathers)
Snakes in the compost: living The Good Life in Wales (not me. I don't live a 'good' life)
You can't herd poets (or How not to organise an arts festival)
Schmoozing a Book Launch: How to become one of the 'Literati'
Situation Worsens (nearly coming to fisticuffs with neighbour re 'that wall')
Me and The Scaffold (the band, not the wall)
Another Triumph, Darlings (a bit of a gloat)

Where am I going with all of this? I'm not entirely sure, but vote for which one you missed me not writing the most, and I'll write it. How 'bout that?

Here comes the tumbleweed...

* a 'normal' working day - not one a library one, where I work 11hours every Monday!

Rain Dogs

2011-06-16T08:38:00.006+01:00

Over at Poetry24 today there's rather a good poem about homelessness from someone who has never written poetry before.

Apart from sleeping in the odd bus station (I say 'sleeping') and once on a beach, and that time I left home forever with just a carrier bag, my only brush with homelessness was winning the Big Issue in the North 'Big Scribble' Poetry Competition a couple of years ago. I'm interested what you make of the winning poem, which was inspired by this chap.

Rain Dog Man

He had a voice like someone shaking
a pan of rusty nails and his hair
was an electro static conduction experiment.
His hands were rough as emery boards
with seven year’s growth of rich, black earth
under the nails where he grew tiny vegetables.
His mouth was a great dark hole full of
tombstone teeth, with worn away lettering:
Here lies the body of… safe in the arms of...
He had a tattoo of a combustion engine
and when he flexed his muscles, those pistons
really worked and steam rose off them.
He answered to anything but his own name
and he sang songs about the olden days
before electrocution, before dinosaurs.
He’d offer you anything he had,
which wasn’t much – an old tin mug
that smelled of whiskey, pliers black
with dried blood, a handful of postcards
from St Petersburg in the 20’s,
some false eyes, or a coat with gold buttons
which he never wore. And when he laughed,
it carried all over town like seed heads
exploding and when he lifted you up
you felt it would never stop; you’d fly
on up into the stratosphere.
I watched him take his shirt off once
and I saw he was branded like cattle,
the scar so old and pitted.
He drew a finger around it’s shape
and said to me: No man ever owns you.
When he died all the neighbourhood dogs
went to his grave and stayed until
the first rain of autumn, and in the spring,
it came up with flowers no-one had ever
seen or had a name for.

© Clare Kirwan

Get out of that!

2011-06-14T07:30:00.004+01:00

Another pic from the weekend.

This what the B&B meant by 'secure parking'.

This was going to be my 'Silent Sunday' pic but I can't seem to upload photos from the Batberry device.

That would never happen to Batgirl.

Also, her car would have been able to fly out.

Fairy tales... and furry tails

2011-06-13T05:40:00.000+01:00

I had a great weekend in Lancaster at the launch of Flashmob - Flax026 - a collection of short fiction which is now available to download free and includes me reading my (true) story: Brother - killed by radiator.

My favourite part was the work of Claire Massey who was launching another Litfest publication: A Book Tale - Flax027, an extraordinary modern fairytale featuring a dress made out of pages of a book (pictured). Isn't it, quite literally, fabulous? Again, you can download it for free by clicking on the link.

At the event I met Sarah-Clare Conlon (who describes herself as a 'Lit Chick' ... damn! I wish I'd thought of that!) , author of the very readable Words and Fixtures - where she talks about the event and describes the 2nd story I read as a 'bit of smut' when there's no mention of actual genitalia. Decide for yourself by reading Parallel Conservatory here.

I also met Ben from We Hate Words - a brand new e-zine which invites short articles on writers (and words) that really wrankle. Now hate is an almost entirely terrible thing, but guess who's in the first issue? Moi, with my hate-affair with the word 'robust.'

Also, David Hartley of 'Do a Barrel Roll' - a real life bunny-hugger who writes amazing single-sentence stories.

Now don't tell any other poets, but my main feeling from the weekend is this:- maybe there are too many poetry events and not enough story ones?

Do you like to listen to stories or prefer to read them? ...Or would you rather just hug your bunny (not a euphemism)?

Rejection, acceptance and an invitation

2011-06-09T08:01:00.005+01:00

No, I'm not dead in a ditch. Ta for asking.

I've been very busy: projects, clear-outs, work, events... even sending stuff out (stories, poems, madey-up stuff) and getting it sent back mostly.

In fact, can any of you writerly-types out there top this:
4 rejections in one 24hr period!

That's so bad it's good!

Having expertly perfected the art of rejection, you may except some introspection. But am I dejected? No!

Because in the midst of rejection there is acceptance:

Acceptance that some fall on stony ground... but also REAL acceptances:

My poem Excavation was accepted by Shot Glass Review.
Another poem was accepted by Shit Creek Review - to be published later this year.
Another won 2nd prize in Northampton Open Poetry Competition's rhyming category - again I'll put a link up when it's online.

Flash Mob launch

I'm also very proud to have been chosen for one of Lancaster Litfest's prestigious publications - Flash Mob (Flax026) - click on that link and scroll down to listen to me reading my story Brother - Killed by Radiator, and the other fine stories too, or you can read it HERE.

The collection (pictured above) is being launched this Saturday, 11th June at The Storey, Lancaster from 3pm - it's a free event and you're all welcome to come along for readings, wine and nibbles if you are anywhere near Lancaster. You'll be able to download it from the link above once its launched.

p.s. If you want to avoid rejection and losing, here are a few useful hints and tips from Who the fudge is Benjamin Judge

Some more pictures of sunny West Kirby

2011-06-06T07:25:00.000+01:00

Following on from yesterday's Silent Sunday post, I thought I'd put up some more pics of the seafront about ten minutes walk from where I live.

This is West Kirby, on the north west tip of the Wirral peninsular in Merseyside:

It's a fine place to live - a lot of the Liverpool players live just up the coast from here in 'posher' Calday.

We even have a wee island off the coast - Hilbre Island, which you can just see here on the horizon. You can walk out to it when the tide's out.

One of my favourite walks is around the Marine Lake - which gives views of Hilbre, the Irish Sea, the North Wales coast and back to town.

I love the way people on the causeway around the lake look as thought they're walking on water... which they often were before they raised it a bit!

Silent Sunday

2011-06-05T07:51:00.005+01:00

More Assistance Dogs

2011-06-04T05:19:00.000+01:00

Following on from the Duke of Edinburgh (... gosh, I never thought I'd be saying those words), I've thought of some more possible assistance dogs - hopefully a tad more politically correct than his idea.

Chatty dogs for the reticent

Ridiculous dogs for the sensible

Thinking dogs for the stupid

Attractive dogs for the ugly

Scintillating dogs for the dull

Hot dogs for the chilly

Organised dogs for the scatter-brained

Instant dogs for the impatient

Shaggy dogs for the socially inept

Tasty dogs for the hungry

and (although I don't think this will catch on) Living dogs for the dead

Mink knickers and water damage

2011-06-02T10:00:00.002+01:00

I was disappointed to miss the Duke of Edinburgh's* visit to my home town earlier this week - I would have enjoyed listening out for more gaffes.

Famous for saying the wrong thing, the Queen's hubby is 90 next week, and to celebrate The Independent printed a fantastic list of 90 of his best foot-in-mouth moments:

"I would like to go to Russia very much – although the bastards murdered half my family."

...which include racism:

"British women can't cook." To Scottish Women's Institute .

...sexism:

"I thought it was against the law these days for a woman to solicit." To a woman solicitor.

...snobbery:

"The problem with London is the tourists. They cause the congestion. If we could just stop the tourism, we could stop the congestion."

... insensitivity:

"People usually say that after a fire it is water damage that is the worst. We are still drying out Windsor Castle." To survivors of the Lockerbie bombings in 1993.

and the difficult-to-master double whammy:

"Do you know they have eating dogs for the anorexic now?" To a wheelchair-bound lady with a guide dog.

"You're not wearing mink knickers, are you?" To fashion writer Serena French at a World Wildlife Fund gathering in 1993

I've got a soft spot for the old duffer and the way he just says what he thinks. As he says himself: "I have never been noticeably reticent about talking on subjects about which I know nothing." I know the feeling.

Of course The Independent does have an axe to grind. Here's an exchange at a Golden Jubilee event in 2002:

Philip: "Who are you?"
Simon Kelner: "I'm the editor-in-chief of The Independent, Sir."
Philip: "What are you doing here?"
Kelner: "You invited me."
Philip: "Well, you didn't have to come!"

So anyway, he was in Wirral to judge a model boat competition, apparently. This is the Marine Lake here. I may post some more pics of it if you're interested... we have an evening view of people on the footpath that encircles it and an aerial view. Nice huh?

* Yes, the same Duke of Edinburgh as in 'Duke of Edinburgh Awards' for young people had this to say about them: "Young people are the same as they always were. They are just as ignorant."

So they can see you coming!

2011-05-31T13:40:00.002+01:00

Remember I told you about being a high-vis poet at Wenlock Poetry Festival?

Well it seems that it's all the rage to wear something that's visible from space.

The high-viz (or is it 'hi vis'?) vest is the thing to be seen in... fit for a poet, a lady of the night or the Queen of England!

I know you want one now, don't you? Here's where to get them from:

Just an udder post

2011-05-27T10:00:00.000+01:00

This post is about cows - no special reason.

Except that I heard this week about a German teenager who has taken to riding - and show-jumping - a cow because her parents won't buy her a horse.

And I was thinking how very useful cows are.

Especially to the artiste.

I have a 'lucky' cow top which I sometimes wear for poetry performances - as you can see from this picture of me performing in The Cavern in Liverpool (yes! how groovy is that!)

I got it out of a cattle-log.

Sometimes I wear this top, and sometimes I wear a Jersey... it depends on my mooooooooood.

Stop me if you already herd all this.

I sometimes wear leopard print, but you just don't get the jokes-per-wear ratio with them.

Whereas with a cow top, you can get away with being really cheesy and talking a lot of bull.

Ah well, better not milk it.

The other cows aren't me, by the way. They're the cows Banksy used to practice on (no, really!) - I told you they were useful for the artiste.

It must be true...

2011-05-26T10:15:00.001+01:00

... or how to turn a throwaway comment into a fully corroborated international 'news' story.

A recent escapade of Graham Linehan (writer of Father Ted, Black Books and the IT Crowd) is absolutely enthralling if you have any interest at all in the power of social media and viral marketing or, indeed, human communication generally. It was covered here by the BBC.

Here's how it started:

In a nutshell: Linehan tweeted that examination of Osama bin Laden's property had shown the al Quaida leader enjoyed watching The IT Crowd, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. The tweet was for a joke, but the response was such that he went along with it when it was picked up and, within days, reported as 'Fact!' by (fairly) respectable broadcasters. Read the link above to get the full nuances of the story.

It makes the mind reel with possibilities. Any intelligent person understands already how easy it is for myth and rumour to gain a foothold in reality once reported 'in the news'. But social media blurs the lines between 'respectable' journalism (which has rules and stuff) and spin, ill-researched conjecture, opinion, or sheer devilment.

I'm sure the latter was the case with Linehan - but if he stands up and confesses to it, how many people don't?

Of course this isn't a new phenomena. The well-known story that the word 'quiz' was invented and brought into popular usage for a bet is untrue - and yet the very fact that a made-up story about a supposedly made-up word becoming so widely believed sort of makes true the point the protagonists were supposed to be testing. Maybe the real story was that the bet was to make up a fake story about the origins of the word quiz and bring it into popular usage.

Oops, I just vanished up my own arse. (FACT)

Lady Gaga, Librarian?

2011-05-23T08:00:00.001+01:00

Thank you, Lady Gaga for explaining why I am peculiarly suited to library work: I, too, live between fantasy and reality.

You can read the full quote from her in the Sun newspaper if you really want to.

Librarians have not all reacted positively to the comment. 'Annoyed Librarian' on LibraryJournal.com lists 5 reasons why lady Gaga could never be a librarian. Ironically her list actually manages to be insulting to librarians on many levels. Amongst the reasons (along with stuff about not filing things properly!): she's young and thin, she's fashionable and she's rich and famous at an age when 'most librarians are still failing in their first career.') And of course, according to some her image was created by copying a librarian!

As I am not especially young, thin or (whisper it) fashionable, and have... not necessarily failed at, I'd call it 'moved on from' ...various other careers, I can hardly quibble. But I'm not a librarian anyway - I'm a library assistant - so I cannot speak on their behalf.

I'm sure you can think of other reasons Lady Gaga is nothing like a librarian, but I've got one for the list: Those heels! She wouldn't last five minutes.

Oh, and I found this on YouTube... enjoy!

A poem for the end of the world

2011-05-21T12:46:00.004+01:00

My neighbours prepare for Armageddon

She shouts down the garden
her voice high and urgent.
He digs beyond the beech tree
after a week, almost waist deep.
Daily deliveries, mainly canned goods.
They have cashed in annuities.

Her voice grows more shrill.
John? John! He is out of sight
cladding the pit with metal –
all night a kind of clanging.
He digs. They drill the children
in emergency procedures.

He doesn’t go to work any more.
They have cancelled the milk
and written to distant
relatives and friends, letters
of forgiveness and confession.
The washing machine churns all night.

The news is on full volume.
She shouts down the garden:
John? John! He can’t hear
– he’s underground erecting bunks.
It’s all starting to get to me,
a sort of contagion.

He smiles over the garden fence
but it seems inappropriate
to talk about the weather.
They are fattening the cats, he says.
She has frozen her last few eggs:
they will repopulate the planet.

Jam today!

2011-05-20T09:00:00.001+01:00

The other day I left you with one of life's essential dilemmas (especially with the world ending on Saturday): Jam today or jam tomorrow?

Jam tomorrow - planting seeds and stocking up on jam jars (i.e developing skills, toiling and saving for a comfortable retirement)

Jam today - eating jam (enjoying the moment, not worrying about ending up with sticky fingers)

And I asked the question: would the possibility of the world ending this Saturday make you more of a 'jam today' sort of person?

I was frankly a bit disappointed with your answers, which varied from falling back on the old comforts of chocolate:

"I'd be stuffing myself brainless with chocolate, buns and custard" said Fran over at Being Me... and I'm not sure she can be trusted to read the packaging correctly - see her very funny latest post.

or just worrying about how it will all end:

"Will there be giant locusts, brimstone, cyborgs, earthquakes,etc?" asked MsCaroline at Asia Vu.

Clare (and Gary) claim they will be industrious: making jam or finishing home projects. My home projects leave things in much the same state as the apolcalypse!

Only Dave has the sense to go on a spree: "I'm busy spending my life savings now. I've just bought Wirral Library Service. I'm going to turn them into jam shops." I suspect that's his newly diagnosed diabetes kicking in.

So here's the Top 10 things I'm going to stop doing if the world is about to end:

weeding
worrying about unfinished projects
going to the gym
filing things into alphabetical order
working at the library
housework
writing, also blogging
spending time with people I don't like
'to do' lists
Top 10 lists... doh!

And here's my Top 10 things I'd do if I knew the world was about to end:

draw out my life savings and splash it around a bit
eat 'tasting menus' at really fancy restaurants
listen to my favourite music very loud
tell people how I feel about them
talking of splashing - go skinny dipping
do a parachute jump or sky dive
have a splendid party
act upon impulses, without fear of repercussions, like...
random hugging and snogging, or...
...put on a green hat and go on a bus ride!

In fact... I'm starting to notice my Top 10 list is rather hedonistic and self-indulgent - a sort of 'to do' list of some of my favourite deadly sins, so I'll probably be one of the first to be smited (smote? smitten?) down.

See you in Hell!

The End of the World... again

2011-05-18T11:00:00.002+01:00

I singularly failed to revisit Armaggedon* (pictured left) twice in my recent trip to Israel.

But fortunately you don't have to go to Armageddon - because it's coming to you. The world shall end on 21 May this year, at around 6pm according to a prominent US preacher.

That means you could only have a few days left to get done all those things you've been putting off... like write that novel, learn Spanish, lose weight...

... Just a minute. If we've only got a few days to live we don't have to do lots of the things on our 'To Do' lists - the ones which assume we're going to be around for a while, the ones which involve making an effort to invest in a future, better world where we are a fit and healthy best-selling novelist who also speaks Spanish.

If this woman knew she was going to lose her head in a supermarket one Friday afternoon, she probably wouldn't have gone on that diet and had those Spanish lessons, would she?

Which brings me to one of life's essential dilemmas: Jam today or jam tomorrow?

Jam tomorrow
is not just planting seeds and stocking up on jam jars, it is striving to learn and develop skills, creating works of art to leave our mark upon this earth, toiling and saving for a comfortable retirement, supressing opur baser instincts to 'become a better person'.

Jam today
allows you to enjoy each moment, stop to look at the clouds (or the stars, depending on time of day), spend time chilling with chums, read books, watch movies, play, make love to random strangers on a bus** ... in short it hasn't achieved very much and may leave you with sticky fingers and a guilty glow of self-indulgence.

It gets even more confusing if you go back to Lewis Carroll's original jam today / jam tomorrow theorum. But it's already difficult enough as it is.

Are you the kind of person who enjoys the moment... or are you head down, ears back, working for a better tomorrow?

And if you really did have just 3 more days to live, what would you be doing right now? Best answers (and mine!) tomorrow... like the jam!!

* It's ok - I've been there before, and to the end of the world in another sense too

** I've used this link before to Roger McGough's 'At lunchtime' - but it's worth repeating

Tweets from the ex

2011-05-16T07:18:00.004+01:00

I was very disappointed to learn that my ex-husband has stood down from being an independent councillor in his current home town (not Wirral).

I was looking forward to the possibilities, as he rose in politics, to cause him some future embarrassment after he (perhaps foolishly) started following me on Twitter a while ago - as discussed in my 'Look Who's Stalking' post. I followed him back - without ever directly communicating - and watched... and waited.

I can't explain how I came to marry someone who couldn't spell and had really dodgy syntax, but I've been enjoying his tweets. Here are some of my favourites:

@___MP Hope this is the petition at M__, my wife works in W___ Rd in a sandwich shop and it puts people off their food and worse.

(Has she tried a paper bag?)

Pleased to see the move to have dead animal carcasses moved in sealed containers. Would certainly help people of M___.

Can't believe what I am seeing two old chaps standing on the A50 smoking just prior to Stanley Mathews Way. Unbelievable

(What will these people do next?)

We had another meeting meeting this afternoon at the (cont)

(Those 'meeting' meetings are the worst... wonder if they had a pre-meeting meeting meeting?_

More ASB issues in O____ last night fruit thrown at residents windows some names have been given.

(apple... orange... kumquat)

Not yet set in stone but a proposal to save 30 million may include loosing 700 jobs within the council from across directorates.

(release the jobs!!)

Had tea now going to spend some time with little man and have a game of SWAT on PS2. Prior to reading full Council papers again for tomorrow

(this probably isn't funny to anyone else, but when I was growing up 'little man' was what my mum called by brother's willy)

Anyway, following his tweets, I did learn something - maybe. Either he is still the consummate self-publicist, instinctively using new social media to appear to be a pillar of the community, a champion of the rights of young people and local residents, indeed a low-level superhero to the people... or he actually is all of those things. I'd like to believe the latter. It's possible.

Silent Sunday

2011-05-15T09:33:00.001+01:00

Perito Moreno

2011-05-14T07:16:00.006+01:00

What's 3 miles wide, 558ft tall and visibly moving forward 6ft a day all by itself?

Perito Moreno (click there & scroll down for the BEST panorama) is one of the few glaciers still growing - although that doesn't stop big chunks falling off all the time. It featured in Prof. Brian Cox's recent series.

It's relatively accessible: if you happen to be in Agentinian Patagonia, you can visit it as a half-day trip from El Calafate, a pretty lakeside town next to Los Glaciares National Park.

You can take a boat ride along the 'terminus' which rises 240ft above the lake's surface.

And you can walk along a viewing platform to the point where the glacier regularly collides with land, cutting off the link between two lakes until the building pressure and water erosion cause a 'rupture' where the built-up ice crashes into the water.

Even just watching it for an hour or two you are pretty well guaranteed to see chunks of ice the size of an apartment block cracking off under pressure. One of the most amazing things I've seen.

What's that? You want a picture of me in my silly hat again?

Anyway, a couple of pictures don't do it justice so I made a film. It gets exciting about half way through - and if you turn Brian Eno down and get someone to fire rifles in the garden to recreate the sound of the ice's movement. Cool!

One Year as a Library Assistant

2011-05-11T12:30:00.001+01:00

Shhh... I've been working in the library for a year yesterday!! (My boss said: 'It feels like longer!' ... That's good, right?)

I feel like I'm really getting the hang of this. I have survived the biscuit embargo, and am 'professional-looking' enough to convince an innocent borrower that there is a sequel to Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath called The Pomegranates of Despair.

I haven't quite mastered the art of spotting who will appreciate my 'humour'. A man brought in a bunch of books about archery and wasn't amused when I asked him if they'd 'left him all a-quiver'. Some fall on stony ground.

But another time, a lady asked if we had any books on mind-reading. When I said: 'I knew you were going to say!' that she laughed like a loon.

So, here are 10 important lessons I have learned:

First of all, we learned (alright... made up) lots of songs about librarians

That you... yes YOU... are called 'borrowers'

That technological wizardry is not as wide-spread as we supposed * and most library assistants are strangers to the spreadsheet

That there tends to be a 1980's attitude to tea breaks (good!) and health and safety* ... nobody comes running at you with an accident form if you try and remove staples from a wooden board with a tin opener.

That I'm not the only person who borrows guide books and takes them on holiday with me

That you don't want to go to 'the scary branch' during a visit from the local primary school

Useful general life lessons like: What to do if kidnapped by a comic beat poet or What to do if a dog eats your library book

Oh and lots of stuff about books and authors and the basics of the Dewey decimal system... which I am starting to incorporate at home

That libraries really, really do have an invaluable place in the community - lots of really useful services used and much-appreciated by lots of different kinds of people... and the last bastion of no-catches FREE stuff!

That there are still people who never go to their library, who come in grudgingly to use the photocopier or one of the computers in an emergency or join 'to support libraries in principle' and are astonished at the range and quality of our books, DVDs and facilities... and, indeed, jokes... or is that just me?

Go on - visit your local library this week to help me celebrate!

* Sweeping generalisations based on limited research

Torres del Paine

2011-05-09T22:00:00.001+01:00

You may think I will one day tire of saying: 'On this day XX years ago...' but I won't.

This time 2 years ago I was in Chilean Patagonia. Planning a 'round the world' trip you can't always be in 'the right place at the right time' - so we ended up in Puerto Natales (left) in early winter.

The Torres del Paine national park* is famously one of the best long distance walking routes in the world, but conditions (left) weren't great for walking... eek!

For much. MUCH prettier (summertime) pics click here.

When I saw Jinksy's post on Sunday my first response to her question about what we thought her picture was of was... Patagonia. (I didn't say so, though. It seemed a but show-offy.) But look at her link and then the picture on the left...

It was a bit bleak in parts, Patagonia - but not all of it. This is cheerfully-painted Punta Arenas. Chile reckons it's the southernmost city in the world, but Ushuaia (Argentina) is further south. Read about there in my End of the World post.

Here's one of the most famous feature of the park is ...

...no, not me pretending to be a llama... behind me... the Cuernos (Horns) del Paine.

I can't promise not to mention the Perito Moreno Glacier one day soon, too!

* Torres del Paine means 'blue towers' in a borrow from both the indigenous language and Spanish.