Write, damn you!

Yet again I have been indolent about completing my writing here, but I have been religious about the writing of my Morning Pages.  I put this lack of effort down to the lack of response to my writing on the forums and my consequent sulking.  Never let it be said that I couldn’t be as childish as the next frustrated writer.

Though there are of course clear compensations from being Marion Rees’s son.  This means that retail therapy is always in the blood and a ready way to make all manner of things well.  I have never found a little light shopping to be anything other than an advantageous way of behaving when things are not going exactly the way you want them to.  Living in Spain there is also the added attraction for WASPs of ‘delayed gratification’ when buying something via Amazon. 

I have had the moral worries about trading with a company which quite obviously is dealing well over the other side of legality about the amount of tax that it does not pay to, for example, Great Britain by having its so-called parent company incorporated in Luxembourg removed surgically.  And I bet that your attention span was not up to linking the last two words of that sentence to its beginning!

Quite apart from my new electric chair (of which more later) I have also invested in a more practical wallet from the little shoe repairer tucked into a corner in the underground car part of the shopping centre – and the new watch is still not that old.  All of this (at least the last two) has been purchased with something approaching impunity because some of the ‘hidden money’ has resurfaced.

My financial ill-management is so poor that my life has been one long struggle to hide money form myself so that I can be surprised in the future with funds which appear as if by magic – my having forgotten that I had hidden them.  One such sum was ‘loaned’ to The Generalitat some time ago and, while I knew it was there, somewhere, I had no idea of when the money was going to be returned.  It was not, you understand, a fortune, but it was a ‘spendable amount’.  Having suddenly returned to my bank account, with no information sent to me, just a casual entry in my bankbook when it was last updated. 

Now, of course, it is burning a hole, and I have ordered yet more CDs and double walled tea mugs and ink.  I still have not recovered from discovering that the cost of a bottle of ink seems to have rocketed from pence to pounds.  So much for my YouTube inspired plan to refill my disposable fountain pens.  Well, almost, I am determined to give it a chance and have therefore ordered ink in a spirit of defiance from Amazon which allows you to ‘add on’ certain low cost items to another order.  This of course encouraged me to buy other things to make it all worthwhile.  It is at times like this that I remember the only accountant who I retained many years ago who give me the following advice, “Mr Rees do not spend money to save money.”  Good advice which I always remember after the event and not before.  At least I remember it.

And the chair, or The Chair, the replacement for the one which was falling apart and the material of which it was made, flaking away.  I made the most of the opening of a new furniture and home store and bought a new electric reclining chair for what I think is a very reasonable amount.  It cost an extra €30 to get it from the store to the home, but I am still pleased and I find that I am using the reclining function more than I did the last one because this one is electrically adjustable and doesn’t have to be one thing or the other.  If that makes sense.  I have also purchased a faux-fur throw to keep me warm in the cooling evenings.  When fully furred up with my feet extended and elevated I look like some sort of Dowager Empress holding court.  And rightly so.

As we wend our way to Christmas I am exploring the various goodies that Lidl have produced under their Deluxe label and am thoroughly enjoying the discoveries.  I now have (among other goodies) a small container of blossoms to scatter on salads and other decoration demanding foods.  This, I feel, is a good thing. 

As indeed is the range of teas that Lidl is now selling – all of which I am buying.  Their Oolong tea bags are the best that I have tasted and the more exotic the blend the more eager I am to try it.  I am now ‘tea-ed up’ till the New Year and beyond.  And if my new mugs with filters arrive soon then I can be even more radical in my blends and taste experiences!  Everyone should have a hobby or two and one of mine is now tea and its bizarre and, in many cases, unsatisfactorily blended outcomes. 

Were I a real aficionado then I would be keeping tasting notes like those that I discovered in Nicholas’s bedroom when I was staying with his mum.  Nicholas I might add was not there, or even in the same country now I come to think about it.  But in looking at his books I came across his detailed notes of his wine tasting: each wine tasted with the details of the meals which accompanied them with dates and times.  That is the sort of dedication that I admire but seldom emulate.

I have been to wine tastings and even written my own notes – Toni has offered me folding money to record the sessions, though I have of course refused to protect the guilty!  But they were far too esoteric and fundamentally funny to continue for long – much though I enjoyed them.  But taking the whole thing so seriously is delightful to find in someone else’s effort, but exhausting to consider for too long from a personal point of view.

Tomorrow the start of a new chapter in the Big Red Book which will lead us towards more work for our next assignment.  I have to admit that I am becoming less and less confident as the course progresses and it will be interesting to see what mark I get for the next piece of work.  My ideas are in place, but I think that wholesale editing will be necessary using rules and advice which have been vouchsafed to use during the progress of the course.  It will be a very interesting exercise, but I fear an exhausting one.

I am making my way steadily through the CDs from one of the new collections and at the moment I am discovering that I do not know Britten’s War Requiem as well as I thought I did, though it is an absolute delight to get to know it better.  There are some pieces of music which survive, no matter how fractured your listening experience is – which is another way of justifying having exceptional music on my car CD which I listen to on my way to and from the leisure centre and getting the bread.  No trip is more than a quarter of an hour tops, so most music is spread over an extended period of time.  It gives one a different perspective; not better possibly, but different.

My pillow!  That’s another purchase.  My eternal quest for a decent pillow (leaving aside the one I found in El Corte Ingles for something like €250 which I did not buy) seems to have reached some sort of reasonable conclusion.  I have been looking for some time, ever since I threw away my old feather pillow having decided that it was only suitable for scientific research rather than slumber.  And then discovered just how much feather pillows were!  I did buy a fairly cheap one from Lidl but it was woefully thin and inadequate.  All of the artificial ones have been unsatisfactory and, even though I have got used to them they were not what I wanted.  The answer seems to have come from the same place where I got the chair – and came at ‘reduced’ price too.  So far so good, and at less than €15 an absolute bargain.  But I do now have various sorts of partially used pillows waiting for visitors.  At least now we can give them something like the same choice of pillows that they have in five star hotels.  Ish.

To bed!

Making waves - but little ones

Swimming on a regular basis you soon come to realize that some days are better than others as far as the actual stroke action is concerned.  This morning was one of those days in which the action seemed, if not effortless, then certainly achievable with less effort than normal.  I sometimes think that the difference is the other people swimming ‘with’ me.  Very often (always?) the other people have no idea that their progress is determining mine – unless of course they are like me and use other swimmers as markers.

The other swimmers this morning were a small child whose swimming was the sort of organized chaos which, even to my myopic eyes was irresistibly funny.  He looked as though he was worming his way through the water.  My other marker was a gentleman in the other lane who had a decent turn of speed but not quite as quick as me.  Both of them stopped from time to time after a couple of lengths, whereas I ploughed onwards without ever stopping.  This meant that I was constantly having a series of successes while my music pleasantly accompanied my achievements.  This went on until both of my markers and their replacements had left the pool and I thought that it was time to look at my watch.  And discovered that I had swum a full ten minutes more than my allocated half hour stint!

In the way that I figure these things, I have therefore decided that I can have the do it yourself risotto that has been languishing in its little plastic container for months as part of my 20% where I don’t have to worry about my diet.  In fact, giving how backsliding I was this week, I am amazed that I still managed to lose half a kilo, so whatever I am doing it is having the right effect.  At the moment, kilo by kilo.  Slow progress.

My writing continues, but the ten people in my tutor group seem to have writer’s cramp and neither post nor comment.  If this continues I shall neither post nor comment myself.  He said sulking.  It is early days yet, and there should, in theory be lots to read and comment on.  There better well bloody be!  Or I shall ask for my money back.  At least.

I fed my watch again today I the spate of sunshine that we had in the afternoon.  I did not, I have to admit, sit outside with it – that was going too far.  I am sure that the sun is just as hot as it was in the summer but it does seem a damn sight farther away from us than it was.  And while I am still wearing sandals as a last ditch rejection of the onset of winter, I am not prepared to be as skimpily dressed overall as I am in the feet area.

I have been reading cheap Kindle books of such awfulness that I am not even prepared to give the titles.  They were just the other side of being a guilty pleasure (like reading Agatha Christie) and more of a waste of time.  Still, I have also downloaded a couple of Kindle books of poetry.  I am sure that we are going to be overwhelmed with reprints of every poor trench dwelling soldier who was able to rhyme next year, but I am looking for bargains and wondering if they can be read in a Kindle format.  I have just bought one called, I think, Poems of War which goes back to the American Civil War and the Crimea rather than to Classical times.  Another anthology goes back to an English sailor writing to his love while fighting the Spanish in the sixteenth century.  This anthology traces the difference between the intellectual elite who write about warfare in the abstract and those soldiers who write about it from first hand.  As long as I can get used to the format, I am looking forward to increasing my knowledge of a whole range of poets of whom I have never heard!

Roll on next year when I think that I will be in the market for some of the books which are bound to be produced to mark the start of the conflict.  I still think that my old anthology called ‘Men Who March Away’ by Parsons is one of the best that I have come across.  I would be delighted to find out that a new one has been produced and will take over as my favourite!

Now, more writing on the forums and the vain hope of some sort of response!

Long time passing

Where is the blog?  Where is the writing?  I seem to have been doing little else, but it does not make it to these pages.  Week, almost a week of frantic tapping at the keyboard and nothing to show for it!  Shame on me.

As I now have the memory of a retarded goldfish I will not even attempt to make up for lost anecdotes but live of the moment and luxuriate in it.

The next watch has, today, entered the growing collection.  This one is a Casio (an old love, my first digital watches were Casio) though I note that the name only occurs on the watch face in tiny letters while the title of the watch ‘Edifice’ (sic) appears in gleaming script.

The USP of this one is that it is atomic.  Not glow in the dark atomic (though I trust that it does that in a safer way) but enslaved to an atomic clock somewhere in England and Germany.  I haven’t heard of the places in with either are in and so have promptly forgotten them.  At two o’clock in the morning, so ‘tis said, the atomic fairies come drifting down and make sure that the time is just-so, so that the waking purchaser can be absolutely certain that the time is The Time and there is even a little round window in which the seconds tick on in their numbered way so that the more nerdish wearers can check that The Time is right To The Second.  I know of no one in my immediate vicinity or even wider who needs time to the exact second, let alone my good, retired self, but once available it must be had.

In theory this watch will also compensate for travelling to other time zones and will automatically reset the time for summer and wintertime.  I will merely be happy if it tells me the right day and automatically changes for the month.  I have done nothing about putting the year into the machine and so I know nothing about leap years, but perhaps more assiduous reading of the hefty instruction booklet will empower me to delve a little more deeply than my present stance of being amazed that it arrived telling the right time with the right day, date and month.  If it ain’t broke don’t mend it is sage advice.

Because I forgot the bread on my way back from my swim we went out for lunch in one of two new restaurants that we have discovered opposite Lidl’s.  In the one we went to today we were issued with a small loyalty card which will give a free meal for every ten that we eat there.  So, in a couple of month’s time we will be enjoying a 9€ meal for nothing.  Except the coffee of course.  That adds a Euro.  Excellent value and good food too.

There is much more that I should be writing about but I have written three exercises for the course today (not counting my Morning Pages) and edited them – a process to which I have an almost pathological aversion – so I am just about written out.

Tomorrow I shall explore options for refilling my disposable fountain pens.  I have been led to believe that this is a worthwhile and profitable enterprise because I am innocent to believe what I see on YouTube.  So the buying of ink and the general catastrophe of Ink Everywhere is immanent.

But I live in hope.  As always.  And the watch is working well so far.

Grumpy!

A fair amount of writing done today.  Some good, some very ordinary, but all competent.  I think.  The major trouble, as far as I can see is that our tutor is more absent than present.  She may well be reading everything, but her touch is light and I think that we need guidance and in your face evaluation and that is what we are not getting on a week-by-week basis.  We are doing all the work in tutorials, but there is little to no tutor guidance.  I am getting a little miffed and I am finding myself acting like a teacher and doing the evaluation myself, when what I need is informed evaluation for me!  This moan is in the process of development and I will work on it for the next few days – and then probably decide to do nothing.

The answer is probably to write more and be more methodical about the way that I evaluate my own work.  That means going through my notebooks in a more rigorous way and perhaps finding a way of taking the stuff worth saving and finding a way to make is more accessible for use in future writing.  I have to be more methodically professional about this or I am not going to gain as much as I need to from this course.

The more I write, the more I feel myself drawn to script writing rather than the other forms of literary creation.  I have always considered myself a poet manqué but perhaps I have been deluding myself by following the paradigm promulgated by Aristotle in looking at the arts.  Poetry and tragedy are only deemed the highest literary structures because we have lost what the Master said about the others!  This is still relatively early days in the course and I will wait to see what develops – but I am dissatisfied at the moment and feel that we are working in some sort of vacuum. 

Toni has now brought his blanket which is a clear indication that Winter is truly here.  In January we both sit around like monks shrouded in blankets to keep the warmth in.  Dark days ahead.  Or we could put the central heating on, but that seems like such a denial of the advantages of living in a country like Spain in the first place.  We still have not put the central heating on.  Defiantly.

My Great Achievement of today is the removal of the resin from the car.  God alone knows what damage I have done to my lungs with the inhalation of so much acetone, but the majority of what was previously immovable has now gone.  There is nothing like giving yourself a spurious sense of value than doing a simple mindless task and getting a disproportionate amount of pleasure from the simple removal of stains.  It remains to be seen if I have removed a layer of paint or varnish.  Nothing stays the same.

Tomorrow is a writing day in which I have to work my way through a whole range of exercises that my colleagues on the Forums seem to have ignored.  I’m harking back on the same theme – this is arid so I should stop and go to bed.