Quand Meme

What has happened to the Meme? You know - those things that people used to tag you with and you had to list anything from three to a hundred random things about yourself that could include anything from your favourite colour to embarassingly personal revelations about underwear and sexual preferences. Well you can forget about any of that. Apart from my fidelity to the purple chav trousers (they have never let me down) the preferences of Signs are nothing if not fluid and changeable. But I do like a good List. If nothing else, they do away with the need to think about having anything of import to say in a post. Put something in the context of a List and it becomes strangely eloquent. You can also get away with making pronouncements about things you might otherwise be wiser to shut up about. With no Meme, it all begins to sound humdrum, but there is so much I could have told you:

Wearing a bra with wire underneath might make your breasts look glad and uplifted, but at the end of the day you will have a red rim underneath them.

Eating a lot of vegetables for several months is almost certainly a very good thing but it is unlikely to be a cure for M.E.

Solitude is a fine thing, but when you find yourself having many serious conversations with a stuffed bear it is time to review the situation.

Giving up cigarettes doesn't necessarily mean that you will ever stop wanting them. Giving up sugar, though, probably does.

I seem to use the words 'probably' and 'perhaps' a lot.

My Dell laptop has suffered a clutch of Blue Wall attacks and is probably dying.

I want a Mac Airbook.

I am going on holiday to France.

Meanwhile I wish you the serenity of the season. We need serenity, without it we get into deep trouble. That's So Pants says something about this. It is the fifth birthday of her lovely blog today.

Be seeing you.

**

June

Ho hum, I’m really not sure that there is much of anything I particularly want to say. I particularly don’t want to say anything about: a) the business at Oxford concerning Derek Walcott and Ruth Padel, the whole thing has been yuck and I really can’t bring myself to care who they appoint; b) the media circus business with Susan Boyle and the Britain’s Got Talent frenzy; c) the fact that the intensely boring and depressing Big Brother is about to go into its tenth year.

Good, that’s got those out of the way. We can talk about the weather obviously – it’s been great here in Blighty and even a cold winter-lover like me can’t help but feel as though something potentially splendid and redemptive has finally come and announced itself after the god-forsakenly chilly spring we have had. So, well, but as we’re all mostly agreed on that there probably isn’t very much more to say except that it is worth bearing in mind that (it being England) weather will probably be changeable. But you don’t need a sign-reader to tell you that, you can watch the BBC weather forecast.

I have got a list of things for June jiggling about in my brain. It is the cat’s birthday on the 8th. - she will be fourteen. I used to make an effort and stick candles into a tin of Sheba and sing happy birthday to her but she didn’t really appreciate the gesture or seem to mind when I forgot. The Signs wedding anniversary falls on the 12th, the birthday of Mr. Signs on the 16th and we are having a Signs gathering extraordinaire (his idea, I blame the therapy training) later in the month – members of his side of the family, many of whom he has not seen for years and who I have never met. I will not yet allow myself to think about this. Son of Signs clobber will all be coming back to Signs Cottage from Oxford at some point. There are poetry readings to attend and a book launch. Oh, and I will be giving a poetry reading on the 11th that I am feeling strangely nervous about.

I’m sure there was something else. Yes, a creativity day chez Signs. You will be wondering what a creativity day is: well, it is a day on which we (me and two of my long-standing writing cronies) get together and create, in other words we write stuff. We do this regularly anyway, but on a creativity day we do it for longer and with knobs on. And food.

What I always say is, when you have nothing to say, write lists – which is basically what I seem to have done here. I have been very restrained actually, there is much more I could have added to the list. I’ll be back when some of the items have been ticked off.

Have a nice month.

Three Things About Me

This came in the form of an email from Daughter of Signs and one is supposed to send it on to people. Well it looks just like a “meme” to me, so:

Three jobs I have had in my life: Turkey Inseminator (I’ve written about this, key “turkey” into search box to read), audio typist, nursing auxilliary in psychiatric unit.

Three shows that I watch: (assuming this means telly). Doctor Who, Late Night Review and I really can’t think of anything else that I regularly watch. I used to love Black Books with Dylan Moran. Comedy things like that, Peep Show and The Office.

Three places I have lived: Village near Berlin (as a young child), Primrose Hill (older child), Bethnal Green (first flat post bedsit).

Three places I have been this week: Shrinky in Brighton, Tesco Express and Health Shop (both in my village).

Three people who email me regularly: presumably I’m not counting the nice people at Amazon, Ocado (I haven’t used but they don’t give up) and the tireless individual who emails me almost daily about village happenings. Well I’m not going to name names, am I? You know who you are.

Three of my favourite foods: Oysters, chicken roasted with lemon, herbs and garlic – steamed greens on the side, fish and chips with mushy peas and (a recent addition) curry sauce.

Three places I’d rather be:
walking on the north beach on the Isle of Iona,
in a high-ceilinged, bay-windowed room in Hackney in 1990, singing with my two little children:

“Mama says no play; this is a work day,
up with the bright sun, get all the work done,
if you will help me, climb up the tall tree,
shake the papaya down.”

or

“When I was one, I banged my drum
the day I went to sea,
I jumped aboard a pirate ship and the captain said to me,
“We’re goin’ this way, that way, forward and backwards,
over the Irish sea,
With a bottle of rum to warm me tum
and that’s the life for me.”

and in Dayville’s Icecream parlour in Finchley Road circa 1975, eating hazelnut icecream with hot chocolate fudge sauce.

(but here on the Edge is good too, just saying).

Three friends I think will respond to this message: Ms North, Icemaiden and TPE. Why do I think they will respond? Blind faith really, the best kind.

Three things I am looking forward to: winning the competition I just entered, meeting with writing companions in Feb and March, seeing the Daughter on Sunday.

No, Honestly

Son of Signs is home again, and so it feels as though Christmas is coming soon. I have not set foot inside a shopping mall and barely dipped my toe inside a supermarket, being lucky to live in a village that has proper shops, a butcher, a baker, a candlestick-maker, not to mention a Tesco Express and a Co-op. Blessed.

I have been bestowed this
and been tagged by dear Kahless to write “ten honest things” about myself. My first thought was that I could pass it straight on to Cat of Signs, but she is a little preoccupied what with Son coming home, and the business of jumping in and out of his red suitcase with the air of a creature who is testing out a hypothesis of some kind. I never enquire too closely, it’s best that way. So ten honest things, and I’m assuming you don’t want to know about my favourite colour or what brand of washing powder I use. You want the nitty gritty:

I used to steal things at school just to see if I could.
I have never had casual sex.
My first best friend was called Jane and she was a bad girl - I wanted to be like her but the closest I got was stealing things.
I used to want to be a social worker, but no college would have me.
Just as well.
I recently spotted an ex-lover in a short film on someone’s blog.
John Osborne said that cold-heartedness disarmed him. I feel the same.
I appreciate nice people. I think nice is underrated.
Last year I did the Lightning Process because of M.E. It didn’t work.
I can’t think of anything else that I would like to identify - oh yes: my middle name is Susan.

But lovely Cusp has sent me a gift. It is a pouch full of magic, talismanic things, a Happiness Kit, and I will have a use for all of them.

when

when the flat field you saw from the attic window
shines with early winter frost

when the goose is cooked, its dark flesh
carved on a bone-white plate

when we sing don’t let the stars get in your eyes
don’t let the moon break your heart

when ground softens to crocus-gold

when summer is almost come, it is your birthday under a green canopy
and the table is empty

when apples are tight and hard and sour
when apples are ripe and red and sweet
when apples lie bruised and rotting

when the cat comes in and howls at nothing anyone can see

when the year turns and keeps on turning, the year ends
and we are at one more remove

a wide river running between us
no ferryman to bring me over

my hands cup the dark water
and the boat, my love,
will not come in

Tagged for Six

So, courtesy of Dr. But Why , I’ve been tagged again, and not before time seeing as it’s February and I’m running out of things to say. Of course I know that writing is not necessarily about having things to say. But sometimes it’s nice to have an agenda, especially when it says in black and white that whatever you put is to be “non-important.” Copying straight from But Why’s:

Rules on blog and links as appropriate. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. Tag six random people and let them know they've been tagged.

1. I like to nibble around the rim of a biscuit before eating the whole thing. This has often intrigued or annoyed people and a psychotherapist I once saw thought it was quite significant. I didn’t. We ended the relationship shortly after (not because of that) – she was too expensive and could only see me at 7.15 in the morning.

2. I am still wearing the purple shell-suit trousers and I don’t think I bought a single new item of clothing last year – or the year before that, come to think of it. Apart from Ugg boots. I am pretty happy with this state of affairs and can report that the purple trousers show absolutely no sign of wear or tear.

3. I have given up smoking (again) and can report that life without a cigarette sucks, unless my daughter is looking here, in which case life without cigarettes is wonderful in every possible way and please do as I say, not as I did. And there is always chocolate. Or sugar-free gum.

4. This is Attila the Rubbish Lady:

I made her out of waste: her body is an empty can, arms a tomato puree carton, legs a couple of empty loo rolls and hair the netting around a bag of satsumas. You will notice a few decorative features. I like her but am not sure what to do with her.

5. I have a diamond-studded diary for 2008:

This one is for writing down appointments and to-do things. I have a MsLexia diary where I keep a record of what I’ve done each day. Even on very low strength days I fill up the space. Everything counts.

6. Last summer I did 70 things – untagged. I must have been a bit out of myself, but sometimes you just begin and get on a roll; and then what happens is that all the things that seem very big and important begin to seem much less so; and all the small and seemingly insignificant things become strangely interesting – to the one who is writing them down, that is.

I’m not “officially” tagging anyone this time – but if you are looking in and drawn, consider yourself tagged let me know. And if you are looking in and repelled by the idea, consider it anyway – for the hell of it, you know.

Where I'm From

(after the George Ella Lyons poem , and others. Nice one to try.)


I’m from Marmite sandwiches, orange wedges, bratkartoffel,
sauerkraut, and eat up everything that’s on the plate.

I’m from one country to another,
Lederhosen and white organza dresses, pink and yellow is for girls,
why do you speak funny and where’s your dad.

I’m from skipping, if you miss a loop you’re out,
from dippi dippidation my operation, how many people at the station,
red is for danger and out goes you.

I'm from laterne laterne, sonne, mond und sterne,
our Father which art in heaven.

I’m from ten du Maurier tipped in the flat red box,
lipstick on the stubs and burns on my fingers,
sixpence in my pocket to buy pink sherbet and a raspberry chew.

I’m from Bunty and Mandy, The Four Marys and The Silent Three,
Fifth Form at Mallory Towers and Alma,
who stole the sugar biscuits from a tuck box.

I’m from Grimm’s Fairy tales: Goldmary and Pitchmary, the apple tree calling
Shake me, oh shake me, my apples are all ready,
from Thousandfurs, three wishes and a cloth that’s covered with meat and drink
whenever you say the word.

I’m from waiting for my father to take me skating at Queen’s,
blisters on my ankles, a Wimpy and a strawberry milkshake after,
Battersea funfair, six shillings in my pocket to spend on rides.
I am from always missing him.

I’m from Petticoat and Panstick,
hiding in changing rooms on netball days
and losing your virginity to Tampax.

I am from the Christmas crib, an angel
suspended by elastic from the stable top,
Joseph and Mary looking down,
Jesus on a manger, naked,
a golden ring around his head,
and a donkey who stands and waits
and sees everything.

70 Things - Untagged.

1. I have a triceratops in my bath.

2. He once had 3 brothers.

3. I can make Tarka Dall like you get in restaurants.

4. I don’t like buying new clothes

5. I used to love The Monkees.

6. I believed that smoking menthol cigarettes made you sterile.

7. I went to 11 different schools.

8. I was expelled for missing a biology exam.

9. I lost my virginity at 16.

10. The background music was Break on Through by The Doors.

11. I had a grandmother called Eva.

12. I have three different kinds of reading glasses.

13. When I was 10 I wanted to be a ballerina.

14. My father sang in South Pacific.

15. My first word was “picture”.

16. One of my fictional characters was a carpenter called Emily.

17. I once had a best friend called Shakela.

18. When I was 13 I wanted to be an air stewardess.

19. The Female Eunuch is why I love Germaine Greer.

20. My husband makes perfect bramble jelly.

21. The first film I saw was a cartoon of Tweetie Pie.

22. I have a stuffed donkey in the attic.

23. I didn’t have breasts till I was 15.

24. I am a late developer.

25. I read all the Enid Blyton Mallory Towers and St. Clare books.

26. I have my own rock concert.

27. I never liked Brussel Sprouts.

28. I don't tell you the half of it.

29. I won 2nd prize for a daffodil when I was 9.

30. I can only drive an automatic car.

31. I miss my father.

32. I used to fiddle the electric meter in my bedsit.

33. I haven’t been out of Europe.

34. Unless you count a kibbutz in Israel.

35. I know how to pick oranges and lemons.

36. My Lewis chess queen says Oi Veh.

37. I don’t have a favourite colour.

38. My son once found a four-leafed clover

39. I have a necklace made of moonstones.

40. I like IKEA meatballs with lingonberries.

41. I thought I would never ever use a mobile phone.

42. I have a Samsung D600.

43. My mother is 84 and very fit.

44. She does Pilates and acqua aerobics.

45. I was scared by a mountain once.

46. I want to go ski-ing again.

47. I have a favourite Sappho fragment.

48. I kept my daughter’s milk teeth in a box.

49. I can never find my nail scissors.

50. I want a cigarette.

51. I play the recorder and the penny whistle.

52. If I moved from here I would miss the trees.

53. Sometimes I want unbroken horizons.

54. My grandmother has visited me in dreams.

55. I have kept all my old Spare Rib diaries.

56. I wish I could be tidy.

57. My father’s ancestors were Sephardic.

58. People still ask me where I originally come from.

59. I taught myself how to cook on a Baby Belling.

60. I am not entirely sure why I am doing this.

61. I am an alto.

62. My favourite choral work is Mozart’s Mass in C Minor.

63. I like the circle of light from anglepoise lamps..

64. I have a picture of a lion king.

65. My mother-in-law was a potter.

66. My other favourite choral work is Bach’s St. John’s Passion.

67. I am going to Edinburgh tomorrow.

68. My kids are doing things in the Festival.

69. I am proud of them.

70. I thought I’d do 100 but changed my mind.


See you in a week or so.

Back to Basics (carrots or potatoes)

Here is a dilemma: you have a small amount of money in your pocket, enough for either a bag of potatoes or a bag of carrots, but not enough for both. You have to choose. It’s been a few years, my kids were quite young and I probably chose potatoes. Those were the days. £20 would get a week’s worth of groceries (for a family of four) if you stuck to Safeway’s Savers. The baked beans, if anyone is interested, were rubbish. The sauce was anaemic and the beans shrunken. The egg yolks were grey. Someone must have tried very hard to make the Savers products nasty so as to teach people a lesson for being hard up. I learned how to make a hundred different things with a packet of red lentils. It’s ok now. I can get potatoes and carrots whenever I want, and Heinz organic beans.

My problem now is how to spend the small amount of energy I have. The Safeways Savers equivalent would perhaps be to couch potato in front of the TV most of the day. Crap on nourishment and taste but passes the time. I haven’t yet done this as my attitude to TV is the same as some people’s to drink; that it’s ok to have after 6 o’clock. Of course this may change. But at this point, after twenty odd years of M.E. and being nothing if not realistic, I still wake with that crazy bit of expectation still intact and shiny as a new pin – that today I will achieve something. It’s like a puppy straining at the leash for the chance to get out and run. Who has the heart to shut it away? Not me. It’s the nature of the beast, this preposterous vitality of unquenchable desire and expectation. Life, bloody hell.

So back to potatoes or carrots. It seems I can, even in a relatively good space, only do one “thing” a day. Creating a poem, workshopping, teaching a class, are all “things.” It’s why I’m having a gap year. Putting a post on this blog also can be, if I spend time thinking about it. Reading a book (for a sustained period) is. Shopping in a supermarket is. Having lunch with a friend. Of course I have become an essentialist. Unnecessary shopping I have already talked about elsewhere; I don’t do it and it pleases me to make a virtue of a necessity.

This is nothing new, so no sympathy please, I howled at the moon a long time ago – and still do when the fancy takes me or when I feel my neck and ears grow hairy. But I am open to some Good Advice, if anyone would like to share. I’m not an efficient organiser which is good because that means there is room for improvement. I like lists (see below) but never do ones that are particularly useful. I did do a timetable experiment once that involved scheduling in absolutely everything (including when and for how long to eat lunchtime sandwich) the night before.

I know what you’re going to say: why not rotate? Carrots one day, potatoes the next. Why didn’t I think of that?

P.S. Thought I’d bowed out, but I seem anyway to have made it through to the Battle of the Blogs final – here, if anyone is still interested, not sure that I am though it was fun for a bit and I appreciated the votes, especially as they weren't all from my mates (ok some were but not that many!) - and I’m rather enjoying Leesa’s blog.

preferences

I prefer the tick of a grandfather clock.
I prefer tock to tick.
I prefer a fairweather friend who drinks to my fortune to the trustworthy kind who feasts on my disaster.
I prefer relatives with brown eyes.
I prefer the smell of my father’s hands to sandalwood.
I prefer my coffee hot as hell with the kindness of warm milk.
I prefer wildflowers I can’t name.
I prefer hard apples that hurt my teeth to ones that are soft and easy.
I prefer hard people with soft hearts to soft people with hard hearts.
I prefer people who don’t talk about hearts.
I prefer people who notice the stars
I prefer the waning of the moon.
I prefer my own children to other people’s.
I prefer not to mention this.
I prefer gardens full of weeds.
I prefer kitchens that smell of old kippers to ones that smell of disinfectant.
I prefer the mongrel to the thoroughbred.
I prefer the migraine to the toothache.
I prefer counting sheep.

From the notebook, after reading this.

Taking a short blog break.