Towards the Light 15.12.14

If you were unfortunate enough to read of my blog submissions in the Letters to November series, you’ll have noticed (as I did) that I have a very ambiguous relationship with light and the lack thereof in the winter months.  This morning, I tried to take a picture to show it, but my camera on my mobile wasn’t good enough to show it off.  I had a very peculiar experience.  Or rather the lack of clouds allowed me to appreciate it.  Or maybe it was the lack of frost and the lack of clouds that allowed me to appreciate it…  I digress…

I set to walk to work and I was struck by how light it was.  Now then, don’t misunderstand me, it wasn't beautiful glorious day light, nor was it a perfectly clear sky.  However, between the clouds, the sky was indeed a lighter hue of blue than I’m used to at 7am.  I quite enjoyed it.  The way the clouds changed on my way to work, I was constantly headed towards the light.  That sounds a little too much like an allegory for a near death experience and whilst going to work is far from the most pleasant of experiences, I wouldn’t compare it to shuffling the mortal coil. 

For some reason that I can’t quite explain, that experience of moving towards the light has lightened my mood in the darker moments (and there have been a fair few) of my day. 

Somewhere between several urgencies and a severe lack of tea in the equation, by the time I was making for the door at 5pm, my head was killing me.  I was relieved somewhat by the fresh air, but nonetheless, the day had dampened my spirits.  It had been incredibly busy and more work had stayed on my desk than had crossed it completed.  As much as I’m trying to adopt a better approach, I can’t help enjoying a clear desk and a near-empty email inbox.  It’s just who I am.

But for the second time in the day, the clouds were far from complete.  The wind was at my back and it seemed so much to me that the sky was brighter than it has been at that time when I’m heading home.  Once again I was walking towards the light.  

I have no doubt that a geographer or an astronomer would tell me that it’s to do with our position in the northern hemisphere and the season combining with the convenient location of my house to the hospital (I was headed east this morning and headed west this evening).  Boo hiss.  I was greeted by light as I started my day and it welcomed me home this evening.  I like that.

In other news, I have finally reached another benchmark of adulthood.  I have decorated my first Christmas tree.  Not alone I hasten to add.  My exceptionally artistic (and patient) sister http://blog.pageinmyhistory.co.uk/, helped me massively, even providing the decorations.  It has made the whole room feel festive and helped me welcome in the season a little more than I would usually.  The thought occurred to me whilst I sat in the dark with just the lights on later on Saturday evening, that if I’m going to allow myself to be miserable in the lead up to my birthday (with bloody good reason!) I might have to rethink my attitude towards Christmas.  January is the month that I nearly died in when I was 15 and I really don’t want to spend a whole quarter of the year being full of misery and dread.  It took me 9 years to get through January without feeling very maudlin.  Maybe in a few years I can get through December and look forward to Christmas for the duration…

Merry Christmas to me.  Picture taken by http://blog.pageinmyhistory.co.uk/ 13.12.14

All that said… Christmas really should be confined to December. 

Lots of Love to you all and happy holidays.  

The Big What Now... 30.11.14

The problem I always have with finishing anything, be it a book, tv show, computer game, foolish relationship (just saying!) is that once it's done, I feel like I'm at a loose end.  Having finished writing letters to November, I can't help but feel that way again.  The thing that's annoying me ever so slightly is that it's not like I don't have things to be doing.  I'm part way through reading four or five books, I'm half way through writing a novel, I've just started watching Arrow (Oh good god!!); It's not as though I'm short of things to fill my time with.

The problem is that I wanted to keep up with my blog at least once a week.  Doing the letters I've shown myself that's possible... If I give myself something to write about.  I'm not going to do Hate Mail to Christmas/Letters to December, no matter how tempting that may be.  I don't know what to do.  

But at this precise moment, I must go to sleep.  If anyone has any ideas, leave me a comment.  All helpful idea-donations gratefully received!

And also, big thank you to any one who read any of my letters or blog posts over the last month.  The page views have soared through the roof and it shocked me, so thank you for the traffic and support. 

Lots of love.  Michael x

Letters to November 30.11.14 - Goodbye

Dear November

It’s strange to me that this is going to be the last letter I write to you.  I can’t believe that I started writing these to you a month ago.  It feels like things have changed a lot in that time, even though I’m not quite sure.  There are the obvious things; I’m a year older.  The weather has shifted towards the cold and the nights last for what seems like forever; it was hardly light at all today.  So dark and broody.  Maybe that’s the part of you that appeals to me – the inner tortured artist… Oh, how cliché!

It occurred to me last night whilst I was out for works Christmas do that it felt for me, less like a celebration of Christmas and a celebration of this month.  The night out became for me like a birthday night out; I didn’t do much for my birthday and maybe that was a mistake.  I’ve never been a big fan of that but perhaps I ought to try and do something next year.  I don’t know.   All I know is that it felt good to go out and celebrate, whatever the reason.  I wish I could afford to do it more often!  I was so nervous before I went but so glad I did, almost straight away… Well, after I’d had a drink, said hello to the people I knew and found the toilets!  We were on a mezzanine level of a bar so I got to do some people watching.  So strange how looking into the crowd and seeing how young they all looked!  I know I’m hardly old, but maybe my ‘youth’ is behind me now.  And whilst I was sat there nursing a beer, I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s even a bad thing! 

Things have changed a lot for me in so many ways.  When I look back over what is nearly 30 years, it feels ridiculous to say that.  Of course things have changed a lot in 30 years.  In the last century, 30 years encompassed the break out of two world wars; things can change a lot in that time.  It’s so hard to look on what I can remember of that time and feel confused – how can things have changed so much but still for everything to feel so… consistent?  Maybe it’s the flow of continuity.  Thinking about it, two of the biggest changes that have ever taken place in my life and I wasn’t awake of conscious for either of them!    I’m going to include a photo I took a few days ago.  It’s the old hospital building that was closed years ago.  They’ve demolished most of the site now and are building houses there.  Looking at it today, curled up on the sofa with my aching head from one too many drinks last night, it made me sad to think they’re knocking down the building where I had my tonsils out.

Blackburn Royal Infirmary from the canal, taken 26.11.14

Anyway, I digress. 

What I really wanted to say to you today, November, is thank you.  I know that I haven’t written to you every day like I hoped, but the older I get the more I realise that things seldom work out how we hope they will.  But I’m still happy that I did this.  I’m happy I posted them on my blog so that people could get to read my ramblings.  I’m happy that I started working on NaNoWriMo even though I haven’t finished it yet.  I’m happy that I’ve been out twice this month.  I’m happy with so many things.  And writing to you has helped me feel more grateful for what I do have and how lucky I am.  It’s also helped me to really appreciate what I’ve lost.  It’s sad to lose anything or anyone, but not if you get to remember them, even if it’s hard.

I shall sign off and go to bed now.  Thank you for listening to me and keeping me company.  I’ll see you next year.

With all my love.  Michael xx

Letters to November 27.11.14

Dear November,

Today was my first day back at work after being off for a week.  Something has really changed for me and it was never more obvious than today.  I wasn’t happy to be going back after being off; given the choice, I don’t think there are very many days where I’d leave the house if I had enough milk and tea bags!  But I wasn’t filled with dread as I walked up the hill.  I had lots to do after being off for a week – same as usual.  But that hasn’t even stressed me out.    I’ve known for a long while that I get less done the stressed out I am; I flap.  I get little done and I just flap and get none of it done, which is more stressful.  None of that today, November.  And I got so much done!  Don’t get me wrong, I still have more to do, but it felt good.

All of that said, taking up communion with my sofa cushions and watching some TV, with a brew in one hand and the remote in the other… Ahhhhhh sweet Sanctuary.  It never feel more wonderful to be home than after being at work for the day.  But something about being curled up the TV on just hasn’t hit the spot tonight.  I’ve done some rearranging of playlists on Spotify and now, I’m quite happy to be listening to music and writing this to you, even though I know I’m really not saying anything important.  I suppose it’s more for me that I’m writing this.

The thing that sort of worries me?  I’ve not kept up with writing this every day, but I’m made a good job of trying – the best that can be hoped for in my book!  But I worry I won’t keep up with my blog when I don’t feel like I ought to write.  I’m more lazy than I would like to admit, November.  That’s the true.  I get made at myself for being that way and then things happen.  But it would be so much easier if I didn’t have to be frustrated with myself for not doing something and just crack on and do it instead. 

I don’t want to stagnate again; doing NaNoWriMo and this… it makes it easier to write, just though writing more.  Maybe it’s the discipline of just writing, even though I don’t know what to say.  The thing I’m appreciating more and more is that every time I don’t know how to say something or what to say at all, it’s a lie – I do, I just can’t find the words to sat it right.  And that’s the wonder of editing.  Why stress out about the few words that I know aren’t right when I can go back and fix it later? 

Anyway, I’m out of tea and it’s getting on for bed time.  Take care and sleep well, November.

Letters to November 25.11.14

Dear November.

Today’s letter come’s to you from my dining room table.  I know, novelty of variety in my working space! 

I was going to write this to you when I’d made my dinner but the mince I removed from the freezer more than 24 hours ago is still not defrosted…  So whilst that does its thing in the microwave, I thought I could send you a little catch up.

I haven’t done an awful lot today.  Most of the time I’ve been awake has been on the phone to my mum or my sister.  Nothing wrong with that!  I quite enjoyed it.  When I wasn’t proving the worth of my limitless minutes contract with O2, I have been doing little bits around the home.  Going to my mum’s to hang her new net curtains for her and clean her windows yesterday has given me a bit of a push.  There is nothing wrong with my house, but were several little things that really needed doing; things that I’d been putting off doing for reasons I can’t even offer!  Realising this pissed me off somewhat so I decided to crack on and do it.  I’m now in the space where I want to do everything all at the same time, hence typing whilst I wait for the meat to defrost. 

Just to let you know, November; after I finished writing to you yesterday, I didn’t do any writing.  However, I did do something just as good – planning!  I sat down with my pin-board and a block of memo notes and started writing things down and pinning them on my board.  I have 4 questions that I need to answer and a loose end in the back story I need to tie up.  Granted, one of those questions is a big question mark over what is going to happen at the climax of the story, but I know how I’m getting to the end now, which I didn’t know before.  I still feel a bit guilty knowing that I’m going to have to kill off one of my characters… Even worse, one that I like, but never mind.   Has to be done.  When I’ve finished cooking my dinner, I fully intend to do some writing before I let myself curl up and watch a DVD.

Oooh! Ding, defrosting is done.

I hope the day has you in as good as mood as I am today.

Letters to November 24.11.14

Dear November,

I’ve done some very productive things today.  I walked to my Mum’s and helped her with some manual labour she’s not well enough to attempt, including cleaning her windows in the kitchen… I cleaned out under the stairs and found some curtains which will go nicely in my back bedroom…  I watched a DVD that arrived that I’d forgotten I’d bought…  In short, I’ve done very well at not doing my writing all day.  I’m not blaming my Mum for that.  I’m blaming the hours around the productive things, where I watched 5 consecutive episodes of Judging Amy instead of writing.  Or watching a DVD instead of writing. 

I walked along the canal to get to my Mum's and saw these two having a paddle.  Blackburn Canal 24.11.14

I had a bit of a breakthrough in regards to my writing whilst I was sat there not doing it.  The only way I can think to explain it… Have you seen Stranger than Fiction, starring Emma Thompson?  No?  Well, that’s the problem.  I need to kill a character.  Given his age – he’s an octogenarian – and the time of year, as stupid as this sounds, I feel guilty.

The problem I’m having with writing without a plan, not even a loose one, is that I don’t really know what’s going to happen.  It’s all very impulsive and I’m very unsure of where the story is going to go next.  I know it’s going somewhere, I’m just not sure exactly what’s going to happen along the way.  And then, I crash land into having to kill off a character.  And I really don’t want to.  I was thinking about it, curled up under a warm blanket, around episode 3 of my Judging Amy marathon and I realised I have to kill him off.  I’ve set it up that way.  That’s why I have to; I wrote it that way.  It’s sort of like Dick Hallorann in The Shining; as soon as he sets off back to the hotel, it’s a done deal – he gonna die!!  And the audience knows it’s coming and before you know it, there was Jonny with the axe, adios Dick Hallorann.  Thanks for playing.  Be sure to play again in your next life…

I’m off on a tangent. 

The point is that I’m struggling, November.  I’m not going to get anywhere by not even trying but it’s a lot easier not to feel guilty if I don’t write him out.  I am aware I’ve been talking like the keys I’m typing are going to stop someone’s heart beat; I know this isn’t the case.  If anyone is responsible, it’s the guy in the story doing the murdering who is going to be to blame… who I wrote.  You see?  This stuff is hard!!

The problem, further to this and most pressing at the moment, is that I’m using writing this to you and picking which photograph to use as a distraction from doing the writing of the story…  And I don’t even feel guilty.

I’m losing momentum.  And I know if I don’t pick up with it again soon, I might get lost and never go back again.  I don’t want to leave it unfinished.  Even if it never goes any further than a first draft.  Even if I don’t finish it in time for the end of NaNoWriMo.  Even if it sucks and I don’t like the fact I killed someone off.  I need to finish it.  And I will… And I’m going to get a start on that as soon as I’ve made another cup of tea…

Speak tomorrow, November.

Letters to November 23.11.14

NB:  If you are my Sister and it's in the days around the 23rd November, please don't read this post.  I love you and that is said for your own good.  Love you. x

Dear November,

I started to write something for you yesterday.  I was going to tell you it was crap.  I was reading it back as I was writing it and constantly going back and editing and changing things because I couldn’t make it make sense.  So today’s letter is from yesterday and today.

Today is one year since my Gran passed away.  I don’t understand how that can be a year ago, but sure enough, my calendar reliably informs me (just let me double check), yes, it is indeed.  I don’t understand where all that time has gone. 

More than that, November, it’s hard to not feel it all over again.  I think my mother and sister would agree; I did an okay job of keeping my face straight for the time I spent with them.  The relief I felt when I got home and shut the door was so unbelievable; my face could do whatever it liked.  And nothing happened until a little while ago.  I don’t know why I felt the need to keep a pretence up.  Don’t misunderstand; I wasn’t an inch away from tears throughout.  Except for one moment…

My Gran was cremated and scattered over my Grand Father’s grave.  We planted a bush there for her – I forget the specific type of bush… but it was beautiful! – And in the cut back for winter, the gardeners of the cemetery have ploughed over it.   My sister was visibly distraught.  At the time, I wasn’t; it struck me as sad and thoughtless.  The day has wound on.  I’ve busied myself with other things (mostly distracting myself with the Batman).  But it keeps coming back to me and every time it does, I feel angrier and sicker than I did before. 

I don’t think I’m that upset about the bush – there was part of it still sticking out of the ground and, to borrow a very good Yorkshire saying, they were still wick [Thought occurs, November.  Wick, derived of quick… Like the Iron Maiden song, be Quick or be Dead?] and that means it might make it through and start growing again in the spring.  It’s not the lack of respect that is really bothering me.  It’s not even the fact the bush is gone. 

I keep a picture frame on my living room table.  I don’t have a single photo of the four of us together as a family, so I keep a smaller picture of me and my Gran in the same frame as one with my Mum, Sister and Me from when I was a child.  It looks “right” and has done ever since the day I did it… One year ago today. 

It’s hard to miss someone that you know you can never have again.  People would love to remind me, I’m sure, that I still have my memories.  The thing is though, a lot of the ones that are more readily available are the not so nice ones from the last decade.  I don’t know if it’s from when my brain broke when I was a teenager or if it’s just a symptom of getting older, but there seems to be so many spaces in my childhood.  Huge great big gaps.  I can’t even ask my family to help me fill in the blanks because I don’t really know what’s missing.  I do have some incredibly fond memories of my Gran and I am trying to keep hold of them, gripping with both hands so hard I think my might break my fingers…

Like dancing around her living room to Abba with my sister one half-term day when we were kids.

Like her telling me she was proud of me when I got my GCSE’s and my A-Levels.

Like the day my sister and I went to visit her in the care home and she knew something there was no way she could have known about me and when I asked her how she knew, she tapped her nose, winked and said “An old lady has her ways.”

Like the day the photo was taken that sits looking at me now from my table.

The best photo I have of me and my Gran.  I think Laura took this... or my Mum.  Someone did anyway.  

Terribly sorry this is late and a bit soppy November.  You’re a melancholy month and I’m in a melancholy mood.  I’m sure you’ll forgive me my tardiness, my sentimentality and if I just excuse myself for a while.

Speak to you soon.