A Victor Meldrew Moment!

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am not really one for getting tied up in knots about the 'Queen's English'. I still struggling with knowing what are nouns, pro-nouns, adverbs etc so I basically write instinctively. (Although others may not agree). I have tried teaching myself this grammer stuff, but I struggle to really understand but yet I am still able to write. I think growing up in the 60's and going through modern teaching practices, which really seemed to mean they taught you nothing (especially at in country secondary modern). I am dyslexic (what an awful word to describe someone who struggles with words) although I think it is quite mild by some standards. I struggle with a,e, iou, type words eg Brian becomes Brain and Dairy becomes Diary (not helpful when using a spell checker). But I struggle on. But recently something has really been 'pissing' me off. Everytime I turn on the TV, someone is using this work incorrectly and I find myself screaming at the TV.
What am I talking about?
The use of the word specific.

specific
adjective relating to one thing and not others; particular:

The virus attacks specific cells in the brain.
The money is intended to be used for specific purposes.
FORMAL
The disease seems to be specific to (= only found in) certain types of plant.
Is there anything specific you want from the shops?

NOT

pacific

pacific adjective peaceful or helping to cause peace

or the name for an ocean

The two words are not (in my opinion) interchangeable and should not be used as such.

So the next time some idiot on the TV talks about a pacific item or even pacifically I am going to scream, shout and probably throw something.

I just can't help it.

Selling aprons

My mother used to sell aprons in a local department store. In the 70's most women wore aprons whilst doing the housework so they were big business. What type of apron you wore kinda defined your class and status. My mother sold them all from her neatly folded and carefully placed display on the ground floor near the back entrance.

My mother sold the pink and blue tabards, that had a strip either side that buttoned up with neat white buttons. Many ordinary housewife's wore them - sort of middle/lower middle class women. Not those that still scrubbed the door step.

She sold the full overcoat overalls, in full block colours of pink or white or blue, maybe trimmed with a white strip and neat white buttons. Some of the fancy ones had large silver poppers up the front and were made of a strong cotton. These needed lots of ironing, but were more for the middle/upper class. Although 'nice' women wore their underwear underneath - others answered the door to the milkman commando.

My mother also sold the smaller shield shape aprons, the ones that tied around the waist by long ribbons of matching material. The good ones often had contrasting frills around the main body of the front that fluttered around the outside. These were much cheaper and often plainer, made of polyester or nylon, so easy to care for and even then considered old fashioned, only preferred by more mature ladies.

All aprons were made of cotton, or cotton mix (they had to be ironed but could be boiled and so kept spotlessly clean), or polyester or nylon. The nylon ones were often patterned and more brightly coloured and much easier to dry but not necessarily preferred as they inferred lower status.

My mother tied the stand constantly, folding and re-folding the aprons; she kept the area spotless and incredibly neat. She chatted to her customers because there was always time to talk. She talked to the staff from other departments nearby. It was a friendly area. There was always time for the old ladies who probably didn't need another apron but like to come into the store for their lunch in the cafe and a chat with the staff. They came in on the bus every Wednesday because Wednesday was market day.

My mother also sold tea towels and wash clothes and small hand towels.

DiH

6 Words to describe your life

I went on the One Minute Writer site today http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/ and decided to have a go. The subject is 6 words to describe your life. What a great task although very much brings out the glass half full; glass half empty mentality.

It is great to think about how your feel about life in the simplest way.

Any one out there I would love it if you would write in my comments 6 words to describe your life. Go on I dare you.

Here are my attempts.

• Happy, sad, confident, confused, tired and alive.
• Carpe diem - seize the day - today.
• Awake - rush, drive, work - rush, sleep.
• Alive, watching, listening, smiling, loving, alive.
• Wake to work, home to sleep.
• Wake to friends, home to love.
• My family, my dog, my cats.
• Money - bills, money - work, money - fun?
• Breakfast, elevenses, lunch, high- tea, dinner, supper.
• Fat, chocolate, cheese. Diet, veggies, fruit.
• Dreaming, writing, looking, creating, writing, dreaming.

Got a better one?

DiH

Yes, I thought

‘I don’t do walking in other peoples footsteps’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather struggle in the sand
with each step oozing backwards and down
like an escalator in reverse.

‘I don’t do removing my shoes; they make me small’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather stumble on tip-toe
making tiny heel pin pricks in the floor
like a host of unruly polka dots.

‘I don’t do unnecessary pills; they make me fat’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather go red in the face
and drop to the floor
like a lump of hot lard from a frying slice.

‘I don’t do proper food; it gives me spots’ she said.
Yes, I thought you would rather lather your face
with frothy make-up, thick as concrete
like a badly plastered wall.

By DiH


The first line of this poem came to my whilst walking the dog on the beach and I think it is still a work in progress. I like the work because (I hope) it says as much about the narrator, the voice of the work, as it does about the person (people) being discussed. I would like to do more with this perhaps add some 'he said' lines as well. I think the last line works well (like a) although I can't remember the proper term for saying something is 'like a' - can someone let me know.

Any readers greatly appreciated.
Any views greatly appreciated.

Di

An Unverving Dream

Last night I had a really clear dream. I am not sure how I got to the point but I was in a church (this is a church that I know) although it was much nicer than in reality, much cleaner and more inviting. The Vicar was there. Again a man that I know, a local Father although not the Father of the Church I dreamed about. The Church in my dream is a mixture of the Church I used to attend (a lovely family church that holds good memories) and my local Church as a teenager, which does not hold good memories. The Church where both my parents had their funerals and are buried.

It was a strange dream. When I got to the Church the Vicar (as I called him) passed me a gift and a letter. The gift was a Kite, all wrapped up and new. I was very brightly coloured, red, yellow and white, still in its wrapping and with the card still stapled on the top. It felt strange to get a Kite in a Church and yet I didn't ask why I was being given a Kite. I have recently purchased a Kite and tried to fly it. (I was trying to fly it with a young man who will hopefully become part of my life as we are trying to Foster him), but don't know if this has meaning in the dream, I guess it does.

I never unwrapped the Kite in the Church just put in down beside me. But the letter felt more significant. It was a blue handwritten envelope, neat handwriting, large and clear. I opened the letter and read it.

I remember reading the letter, I remember the look of the words on the page but can't remember what it said, just that I felt very emotional, really happy but also very sad. The Vicar just touched my arm to give me comfort. At this point I looked up.

And there sitting in the Church a few feet away from me sat my Nanny Lou. My maternal grandmother. I have not seen her for 41 years, she died when I was seven and yet she was so clear and she was smiling at me. I could recognise every part of her face, her eyes, her hair, her skin, the shape of her body. It was so real and so beautiful. And it felt lovely and warm and comforting. Like she was there and loving me and holding me. Although I never got close to her. I can't really explain how it felt. Just that it seemed so really, so lovely, so comforting. And I looked straight at her with this letter in my hand and it was wonderful.

At this point I woke up (5.15am) and for a moment I felt happy and loved and comforted and in a wonderful place. I wanted to return to the dream and be back with my Nanny but I couldn't.

And as I lay in bed I suddenly began to feel strange. To feel drained and unhappy, as if the dream, far from being good was a pointer to something terrible that is going to happen. I can't explain why I feel like this. It was so odd to go from almost euphoria to utter misery in such a short space of time.

All day I have felt incredibly tired and drained (I have woken up to write this). I have lacked energy and sharpness and just felt like I am being told that something in the future (the near future) is not good. I have dreaded the day. I felt like I was looking for signals to tell me what was coming. I was often aware of the dream and the memory during the day. I found myself smiling at the memory of my Nanny and then shivering at the feeling that followed. A terrible contradiction. I know this is really OTT but it feels like I should be grateful to wake up tomorrow. That is how strong the feeling is. My body had ached today, I struggled to have any clarity of thought and absolutely no enthusiasm. I just want to go back to bed to sleep and yet am almost fearful to do so.

I like to dream. It has often helped me sort out problems and definitely helped me find ideas for my writing. But this was not nice. I very rarely have nightmares and even they have not left me with the feeling that I have carried today. This was not a nightmare, it was beautiful and yet it has left me feeling devastated. Even writing this is giving me butterflies inside.

I hope tonight will be better. I hope that I can sleep as normal.

Finding other blogs

I like writing my blog but it has occurred to me that I seem to stop and start because I am not sure anyone is reading my words. I know it does not really matter because it is just good to be writing; it is good to be creative but... I have friends who read my stuff and that is good but I would love to expand what I am reading and perhaps find some new readers. So I am beginning to explore. Tonight I have found a writer in Scotland, she sounds interesting and her stuff looks good. Also she has some excellent links to writing sites. So - here goes - expanding my horizons online (so to speak).

Confidence

These are some words that I have been working on for a while. Trying to understand the difference it makes in attributing emotions to first person (me/I) or male and female subjects. I am not sure how this works but liked trying the differences.

Me Confidence

What is it about me that does not believe in me?
And my abilities to achieve.
Why?
Do I focus on the failures
and forget all the times
I have met my dreams
face to face
by welcoming them
forward to my desired ends.
And felt the enormous highs of self
confidence and power.

Her Confidence

What is it about her that does not believe in her?
And her abilities to achieve.
Why?
Does she focus on the failures
and forget all the times
she has met her dreams
face to face
by welcoming them
forward to their desired ends.
And felt the enormous highs of self
confidence and power.

His Confidence

What is it about him that does not believe in him?
And his abilities to achieve.
Why?
Does he focus on the failures
and forget all the times
He has met his dreams
face to face
by welcoming them
forward to his desired ends.
And felt the enormous highs of self
confidence and power.

DiH