Aw Diddums

Yet more motherly moments…

Whenever it rains hard, there’s a Very Big Puddle that stretches from one side of the road to the other. I was so deep in thought when walking Thundercloud that I only noticed it was there when we were right on the lip of it, with two cars poised to barrel though.

“Uh oh,” I said, and stopped dead. Thundercloud looked apprehensive as well.
Fortunately the cars tiptoed gently through, and the puddle did no more than ripple.

At home I said, “I expect it was because of Thundercloud. ‘We can’t get the nice dog all wet.’”
“Absolutely,” said Mum. “If it had only been you, they have roared through it.”

Boxing Day Crisis – my cat Sharky came along and sat on me, stared intently into my face, and started to heave ominously. ‘Hyuk-hyuk-hyuk…’

Not wanting a hairball in my face, I picked him up and hastened to the back door… which was locked! With the cat still hyukking in my arms, I wrestled with the key in the lock, praying it wouldn’t stick. Finally got the door open and pushed Sharky half outside, where he obligingly brought up a small puddle of grass and foam.

Sigh. I think he does it to bully me. It’s his way of saying “I was so hungry I had to eat grass.” There is dry cat kibble both upstairs and downstairs for snacks – Mum called him Oliver Twist only the night before, when he got some turkey out of her at bedtime and then a foil pouch of meat out of me.

Leaving the kitchen, I grumbled “the back door always seems to be LOCKED!” and stumped off upstairs to wash my hands and check myself for any damp patches.
When I returned downstairs, Mum seemed genuinely puzzled, enquiring “what was all THAT about?”

When I explained, she laughed and said, “ohhhh, I see. I should nominate you for the Olympics.”

After a moment she chortled again, saying, “it certainly woke you up. There won’t be any more of that noisy yawning.”
My littlest teddy bear yawned very loudly at that point, and Mum glared…

Some of the TV was so boring it led to some real whimpering gapes from me… I couldn’t help it. The only two things that engaged my attention on Boxing Day were Garfield and… actually, that was about it. When watching the other things, I kept oozing away to sort out some of the stuff in my cubby hole.

I completed a What Lord of the Rings Character Are You? questionnaire. In one that doesn’t exist any more, I was Pippin, but when I did the above different one, it said I was Frodo.

I told Mum this, and at first she was bewildered (despite having read the book and seen all the films). “Frodo? Which one is Frodo??”
“The one with the Ring!”
“Oh, THAT hobbit, I remember now.”
Short pause. Then…
“You’re definitely a Frodo, I quite agree. Frodo was the mournful one.”

Big Sister has her moments as well. She bought Mum an iPod for Christmas, and we were sitting in the coffee shop (having left Mum coughing and sneezing at home) discussing in my notepad what else we were were going to get. Sister said, “I’m thinking of getting an iTunes card - either £15 or £25?”
I said “I suppose you will have to download something the first time, to show her what to do.”
She took the pen and scored out ‘you’, replacing it with ‘you’.

Yesterday I found a bear sitting in my seat on the sofa. It was a Ty Attic Treasures bear called Samuel, dressed up like Uncle Sam of the United States.

I knew Mum had a bear like this, and didn’t pay much attention, but Mum said “it’s for you.”
“Oh, thank you,” I said – “I thought he was your bear”.
“I’ve got one too,” she said.
I looked inside his heart tag – it said “I WANT YOU!”

Seems like he’s got it all sussed out.

He was holding a book for me – a copy of Harrius Potter et Philosophi Lapis. The gift label said “Last Day of Christmas present.”

I’ve been wanting one for years, ever since I saw a Harrius Potter in the Roman Baths tourist shop in Bath. I was going to buy one from Amazon if nobody got me it this Christmas… the scary thing is that I thought “well I didn’t get it for Christmas, so I could order it. But who knows what will happen on New Year’s Day?” (My family has a habit of giving New Year’s Day gifts too; could be anything from a lump of coal to a DVD).

New Year’s Day came and went – I got a stick of Toblerone and some money for the sales.

“Well, I better get onto Amazon and order that Harrius Potter book. On the other hand, I’m going to the dentist soon; I don’t want my Amazon parcel to coincide with the dental appointment.”
So I waited…

Moral of this story: Christmas isn’t over till the last day.

In a bid to appease the Twelfth Night tree spirits, we dismantled our Christmas tree and decorations last night (though, looking at this page, we were probably 24 hours too late).

Sorting through a box of Christmassy stuff, I found a mound of gift tags collected from previous years. Most of them were addressed to me from Mum (and in excellent condition) so I gave them back to her for reuse.

I kept a few she won’t be able to reuse:

• To Diddums, love from Fusspot (Siamese cat who died)
• … purrs from Lucky (another dead cat)
• … from Joker (a deceased Rex cat of Mum’s)
• To Diddumsville from Mumsville (our houses exchanging gifts, as they do…)

I removed my blog’s Christmas theme while I was at it. It was too pale for me, so it was a relief to take it down. I know I’ve said I don’t like grey sites normally, but I like this new theme, which has colour in it as well. Mostly because it’s easier on the eye than a largely white blog would be.

The font is also more interesting – something about the one in the Christmas theme made me yawn…

While ditching a cardboard box used for storing tinsel, I realized it affected my inventory. I’d described something as a ’standard lamp’ (which came out of this box) but apparently it’s a ‘twin floor spotlight’. Ah.

My house is not the only one in the process of changing occupants – one of my elderly neighbours died a few months ago, so her house has been receiving new tenants. Yesterday we spotted something new on it – a black satellite dish! I was a little horrified but shouldn’t have been surprised – a large number of houses in this area have similar dishes. I don’t notice any on the houses in Mum’s area – she suggests the dishes are ‘invisible’ because the houses are bigger.

I hope my own new tenants won’t be clamouring for a dish.

Hey diddle diddle
The cat and the fiddle
The cow jumped over the moon
The little dog laughed to see such sport
And the dish ran away with the spoon.

I suddenly had this thought that if I’d sold my house, it would have a dish too by now. Why should it worry me? It wouldn’t be my house any more. Must satellite dishes be black? They stick out like a sore thumb on these houses. Talking of spoons, I must look out a serving spoon – one of the more important kitchen utensils…

A day or two ago, Mum said “we should start taking down the Christmas decorations bit by bit – it’s easier than taking them all down in one fell swoop.”

I began with the bears on the stairs… a lot of them lost the little sparkling pieces they were holding in their paws. The tinsel draped on mirrors and other surfaces by the stairs came down too, till I had a respectable pile of garlands waiting to be put away.

At tea time I walked Thundercloud. It was freezing but not too bad, till all of a sudden I got this feeling deep in my bones that the temperature had that very second stepped beyond the line of what was acceptable, freeze-wise, and the gathering clouds and general light was just somehow… not good any more. The dog and I were going back home. Now. And we wished we weren’t quite that far away.

When we got back to N’s house, I let Thundercloud rush in for her tea. Mum was coming out, and we walked home together.

A wet snowflake went SPLAT…. intolerable. As a hint to walk faster, I said to Mum “it’s starting to snow.” Her pace didn’t change, and the steadily increasing snowflakes melted and splotched on my glasses. I hate having to view the world through a blurry screen of waterdrops, which was why I wanted to hurry.

A little further along, Mum slowed right down till she had almost stopped, and said “I invited N. to tea. I thought it would be nice to do it now while the house is bright and cheerful with all the decorations.”
“OK, fine,” I said.

(I thought to myself, “couldn’t you have told me that when we were inside, warm, and dry? Why are we slowing down on a freezing, blowy and snowy road to discuss this? And guess who will be replacing all the tinsel that got taken down because you said it would be a good idea to start taking it down now?”)

Since we were walking slowly through the wet snow anyway, I decided to get my own conversational mileage out of it. “When I was walking Thundercloud, I found it was warmer in the woods than on the road.”
Silence while Mum looked off in completely the other direction.
“Did you hear…?”
Looks round innocently – “what?”
“I sai…”, I began, only to be immediately interrupted by a definite nod of her head. “Yes, it’s always colder on the road.” Then she went ahead up the driveway – the conversation was at an end.

Yeah… (shivers).

We finally got inside and looked out, and the slush was belting down in the gathering darkness.

I went upstairs to clear up a few odds and ends, and Sharky came along, stared gauntly at his food bowl, and announced in clear, ringing tones that he was a very sick cat and his supper should have been waiting for him already.

Well, cat, we were standing outside in the snowstorm talking about how cold it was on the road. Somebody has to do it…

3D Art

I was about to write this blog post when I noticed a new wallpaper come up on my desktop. I closed the browser window to get a better look. I’m glad I did as it made me sit back and smile – it’s this glorious winter mountain wallpaper from a Caedes member.

Not everybody will like it as much as I do, and I stopped to think about it. I don’t feel the need for every picture to be ‘real’. Real life is so full of soft shades of grey (along with browns, greens and unseen detail) that it seems to me too easy to get lost in it. A 3D scene like this is crisp and vibrant; everything just so, and there’s not much ‘in between’ to get lost in.

It could be that it is clarity, simplicity and a form of realized idealism I yearn, and that is why I like 3D art.

Convalescent Cat

It’s the first day that Sharky’s seemed anything like normal after his trip to some scary hidden grey unknown in the landscape out there. I was apprehensive even before I posted my last post of 2007, announcing confidently that he hadn’t been well but was getting better.

Part of me believes in the concept of gremlins – not gremlins as such, but the feeling that if you say “everything’s fine,” something will happen to make that a lie.

I knew he was still quite ill.

The day after his trip to the vet he looked even more bleary, if possible. I got a bit scared when I went up around teatime to check on him – he was tucked up very tightly, his coat open and staring. I carried him downstairs to sit with us, and gave him tuna to tempt his appetite.

Slowly he perked up.

Today he was looking a lot better but still sleeping a lot. He even popped out through the cat flap to have a look around, but within seconds he was back indoors. He must have felt that freezing edge in the air. They’re talking about snow, and the clouds had a strange pink quality. There was no ice on the ground during the day (it was rainy), but Mum saw hail coming down after it got dark.

Sharky has accepted turkey and Carnation milk, and seems to be past the worst – touch wood.

This morning I was sitting with him on my knee, staring bleakly out of the front window while he gazed bleakly out of the back. Mum chuckled suddenly and said she should take a photo of us moping together.

What I was thinking was that I’ve broken a molar and don’t want to have to go to the dentist to have it taken out, but there’s no alternative. Rrr.

Tooth Pain Versus Ear Pain

I’ve never been as pulverized by toothache as I am by earache. Mum said “just you wait, you’ve not had the real deal yet – a really bad toothache will send pain right up your cheek to your eye.”

I don’t think I’ve had it that bad, but last night I was getting a cold pain up the back of my jawbone to the joint, and along the side of my chin. It woke me up at half past four and I couldn’t get back to sleep. It still doesn’t hurt me like earache, which stabs me to the heart.

Anyway, I was trying to cheer Sharky up by letting him know he wasn’t the only one in misery. I rubbed my cheek and pointed at my teeth, saying ruefully “ooch, something has to be done about this,” and he smirked sympathetically. That cat knows what I’m saying.

I just know when I make an appointment to have my tooth out, that very day we’ll get snow about two feet deep.

Still Got My Cat

Well, all the blogs are buzzing about what happened in 2007 and what will happen in 2008… I’m just glad that the last day of 2007 isn’t to be remembered for the unexpected demise of Sharky – touch wood! (Remembers the desk is fake beech and scrabbles about with increasing panic till she finds an old-fashioned wooden ruler).

Embarking on 2008 without my feline friend – not to be thought of.

I wrote in Small Contretemps about his adventure… how he disappeared shortly before bedtime and only reappeared around teatime the next day – cool to the touch, thirsty, hungry and smelling of somebody’s outbuilding.

After drinking, eating and sitting on my lap for a while, he curled up on the sofa to sleep – and there he stayed for two days, blinking at us blearily. He got up occasionally for water and a lick of food, but it’s shocking how thin he became in the time!

Trip to Vet

We took him to the vet today. On the whole I felt that Sharky was probably alright, but I sat in the waiting room getting horribly panicky, thinking “Ireallyreallyreallydon’twanttoBEhere!” Then I would catch Sharky’s doubtful “whattayoudragmeherefor?” eye, and smile comfortingly as though it’s all just a pleasant outing and we will be going home for lunch soon. I don’t know why I get so stressed about it but I suppose I’m not the only one. When I got home I looked in the mirror, and I was all pink.

Still, pink is better than grey.

The vet said she couldn’t find anything wrong; even his temperature was normal. She believes he caught a chill from his night spent in somebody’s frosty outbuilding, and is currently on the mend. As one of my cat clients said, “not the greatest weather for adventures methinks.”

When we got home, Mum looked at Sharky in the back seat and said “you old fraud!”

Maybe I worried too much, and all it was ever going to be was a slight cat chill, but I looked on the internet last night and it was going on about pets drinking antifreeze (they are attracted to the stuff) and their kidneys packing up in two to three days. I imagine the same thought crossed the vet’s mind; she asked if he was vomiting.

My answer was ‘no’, thankfully – but these articles do get you worrying. While we’re on the topic, it seems that products made with propylene glycol are safer than antifreeze. Even if you don’t have pets yourself, it’s a good idea to mop up any spills. It’s always worth double-checking your sheds and garages in case someone’s inquisitive kitten has slunk in behind the watering can – especially in very hot weather, very cold weather, and just before going on holiday to Spain for three weeks (or even two days).

Dogs at Vets

My sister said once that whenever she takes her cats to the vet, she suffers an uncontrollable urge to discipline other people’s dogs for them. There are good dogs and good owners, of course, you know you can rely on them, but at times you come across somebody who doesn’t seem to care about anyone else. There was a lady today with a small white terrier on a leash. She walked past us on her way out, with the dog angling towards Sharky… and I thought “surely she’ll pull him back – she’s not even trying to talk to us or anything, so there’s no reason to let her dog step into our cat’s space.” But she didn’t.

I really don’t understand that – it seems so inconsiderate. My impulse was to become the dog’s owner for a second, just to pull back on that trailing leash.

Trying to forget – wait a minute while I take a deep breath…

Photo Finish

I took these photos (see foot of blog post) after our trip to the vet. The door was wide open but Sharky likes cat carriers. He curled up and slept there for about two hours before coming upstairs for food.

He’s does appear to be getting better.

All the best for 2008 to all readers of this blog!

We finished watching The Hogfather DVD and I’ve decided I like it. Not just a little, but a lot. I appreciate his message – and the second episode seemed less dark than the first. There was plenty to chuckle at (seeing as my complaint in Terry Pratchetty Thoughts was that we weren’t laughing).

When we watched the first part, we were tired and not paying that much attention to the details, which is a mistake. When you’re processing them in your own mind, the story makes more sense.

Yesterday we were still confused (and still are about a few things, but that’s like having further gifts under the tree). We stopped the DVD at the end of Episode One, and I said to Mum “why was the Oh God of Hangovers in the Castle of Bones – and what was the Castle of Bones supposed to be anyway?”
“Why are you asking me – how should I know??” she screamed.
“You know it better than me,” I said, sulkily.
“True, I read The Hogfather more recently, but not that recently.”
“You know how you said last night you weren’t sleeping well because you heard jangling, and you didn’t know what it was?”
“Yes?”
“Maybe it was the Oh God of Hangovers popping into existence.”
“Oh.. don’t start confusing The Hogfather with reality!”
Heh heh…

She said tonight she worked out what the noise was – it was Grumble, scratching his ear. Every time he did that, his bed grated against the radiator.

Hmm. I prefer my theory.

I will read The Hogfather again to try and figure out all the things I’m still confused about, though that Mr Teatime depresses the heck out of me. He’s a sort of Bill Sykes, only sharper and deadlier.

One of the gifts I gave Mum this Christmas was The Hogfather DVD. We watched it last night but had to stop halfway through as it goes on for 185 minutes. I should probably have paid attention to the Episode 1 / Episode 2 choices in the menu.

Anyway, we got around to discussing it. I said it reminded me of Dickens – stories like Oliver Twist and A Christmas Carol. That’s probably no accident, but it’s a while since I’ve read The Hogfather. The DVD is actually pretty sober, and we didn’t laugh very much.

Mum said when she read it, she felt it was a good idea but…. it didn’t quite cut the mustard for some reason.
“Something was missing,” I agreed.
“I don’t know why that Susan was so involved in the plot.”

We thought about it for a minute, rather sadly.

“What I think is,” I said, “Terry Pratchett stretched himself too thin. There are all these different characters in his books, but the ones you got fond of sometimes disappeared, never to be seen again, and then you would have to try to be interested in a different group of characters.”
“Yes, I think that’s true,” said Mum.
“One of the characters I was fond of (but disappeared) was Rincewind.”
“And the Luggage, and the little dog,” said Mum.

Actually I forgot about the little dog… but not the Luggage. Jolly the Trolley is related to him.

That’s Jolly the Trolley on the left.

I just had to squeeze that in, didn’t I? It’s a joke of ours – but Terry Pratchett did base the Luggage on a noisy trolley some lady was pulling along, rattling and bumping busily (a very ‘Jolly the Trolley’ habit) so for all we know, they really are relations…

“Also…” I said, getting into my stride, “something I remember thinking about some of the books is that the plot was hard to follow. He had a tendency to say ’such and such happened’ then abruptly switch to something else without explaining it. You had no idea what any of it meant till you got to the end of the book and then, IF you looked back, you might understand what some of those odd episodes were about.”
“You don’t fully understand some of the jokes till you read it for the second or third time,” said Mum.

She HAS read them two or three times. I read some of the earlier books twice but the rest of them just once. Mum liked them enough to reread most – and I think that’s a point worth making.

This blog post is not a complaint about Terry Pratchett – I love his books. I did sometimes lose my way in them, but I appreciate the whole idea of the Discworld; I understand that it wouldn’t be a ‘world’ without all those characters in different areas and countries to meet and find out about. We have our special favourites amongst the books – Mum likes Wyrd Sisters and Interesting Times. I’ve not made up my mind yet, but Wyrd Sisters is high in my regard too, and I loved the one where Greebo the cat went to the opera… Nanny Ogg was in that, though Granny Weatherwax was more my cup of tea.

I’ll read them all again (in order) – I might understand them better next time round. Something that Mum keeps talking about is worth mentioning here as well… people say they don’t find the prospect of dying quite so frightening after being introduced to Death in the Terry Pratchett books. I have to say, of all the Discworld characters who romp through the books, Death’s the one constant.

Anthropomorphical personification - it keeps us from going off our trolleys. Or is that a paradox?

I hope everyone who reads this had a wonderful warm Christmas.

Our oven door broke off on Christmas Eve with an agonized squeal, and we had to cook our turkey in the oven of Bella across the road. Our house didn’t smell like Christmas without that steaming aroma of roasting fowl.

We were watching Christmas dinner tips on TV the night before, and one of them was that roast potatoes could be done in the turkey fat. I don’t think they stopped to remind us “don’t do that if you have a vegetarian coming for dinner”… we didn’t make such a mistake, as my vegetarian sister was coming, but I suspect it would be too easy for someone to exclaim “that sounds a good idea!” and completely forget that their vegetarian guests would disagree. The ‘joining up all the dots’ process doesn’t always work if we dash off in too much of an impulse… anyway, Mum said she followed the tip for roasting the potatoes in quite a lot of NON-TURKEY fat (almost deep frying them) and they were very nice indeed.

A few of the gifts I got:

• (from a cat client): some turkey-flavoured snacks for Sharky and a booklet entitled The London Cat II (Plus: By Public Demand, Return of the Cat-Sitter)
• Vinegar: 1001 Practical Uses by Margaret Briggs
• 3 hardback and dust-jacketed Anne of Avonlea volumes by L.M. Montgomery: 1941 copies with a very 20s looking Anne on the cover. Of course she was a 20s heroine, at any rate it was a 20s series of books. I think of her in 70s/80s terms, so that’s a fascinating new view of her (for me).
• various cookbooks
• Jesus Christ Superstar CD (Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber)
• framed tapestry of a fantastic wizard

◊
The tapestry came from a coffee morning – the lady who made it used to hang it on her wall, but she got rid of it when she changed her decor. I wouldn’t have, especially if I’d stitched the picture myself. I possess one framed cross stitch of my own… sat up till 4 in the morning to finish it for a competition, burning my hands under the standard lamp. It was worth it in the end as it came third out of around 30 entries. It had small stitching, which might have been a factor in its success. I can’t imagine letting it go just because I’ve changed the decor.

Oh, it’s true that we can’t take it with us… and possibly the wizard was stitched by a prolific embroiderer; always another picture being completed and framed – maybe she just got tired of it. We think it’s lovely.

If I put the wizard in my room somewhere, he might zap any evil spirits who try to enter. I also have a soft ‘cuddly’ Hagrid from Harry Potter (not a Christmas present) – he is standing square, with a stern and forbidding expression, so I think of him as a kind of bodyguard! It crossed my mind after I had been reading the feng shui books. Modern symbols of safe-guarding…

Mum said as my PC is so old and uncertain, she would get me a new one! (Jumps for joy). But have you looked at the PC market recently?? It’s confusing. I’m studying it carefully, finding out what I need to look for, but that oven was an unexpected casualty and we need to replace it. Mum’s found that the oven world is pretty confusing as well, and nothing she likes is under £600. I said I won’t be in a big hurry to choose a PC; I’ll just watch the market for a while and hope the old PC doesn’t collapse. The oven is more urgent – and getting my house on the rental market. After that, if I have any money coming in at all, maybe I could club together with Mum to get a slightly nicer PC than I might otherwise have looked at.

We’ll go with the flow…

Jolly the Trolley spent his Christmas money on a young, strong apprentice.

After surfing the internet and leafing through catalogues (in vain), he rolled into Woolworth’s and stared up at a shelf near the ceiling, where a luggage line-up strutted their stuff. Amongst them was a sleek grey trolley backpack with orange markings. Jolly stood and stared for a long moment, then a grin broke across his face.

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Jolly?” we asked.
Of course he was sure. He was dreaming about this moment for months. Get a younger, stronger trolley to do all the work, and he himself could retire. Never again would he have to set wheel to pavement. It’s the ultimate Christmas present.

Thus, when we left Woolworth’s, it was with two trolleys in tow – Jolly in the lead with the youngster romping behind. I said nothing about naming it, but Mum and sister were already shuttling suggestions back and forth.
“Frisky!” said Mum.
“Jaffa,” said E, looking at the smart orange stripes.
I kept quiet, but at home I started thinking about the Jaffa in Stargate, rather than about Jaffa Cakes and Munchkins. My favourite Stargate character is a Jaffa called Teal’c. The name apparently means ’strength’ – an appropriate name for a trolley backpack. In other words, just the sort of fellow you want guarding your back.

It seems I’ve been mispronouncing the name for years. I rely heavily on TV subtitles and thought it was ‘Teal Cee’. Mum said she’s not certain but thinks they may have pronounced it ‘Tea Alk’. She adds that pronouncing it ‘Teal Cee’ the way I was doing sounds like Tender Loving Care (TLC). In her estimation, that doesn’t suit the real Teal’c – a grim warrior of very few words – but I’m not so sure: he’s a caring alien who loves his friends!

It’s a bit of a set-back, as now I tend to hesitate when saying the name - for instance: “Jolly and… [struggles]… Tea Alk.”
Never mind – practice makes perfect. Teal’c now goes with me on daily expeditions while his mentor Jolly spends his days snoozing by the fire.

A lot of people think trolleys have no feelings, and send them to the knackers as soon as they wear out. Dreadful thought. I should write a novel entitled Grey Beauty, which will draw society’s attention to the plight of the common working wheelie bag. We already have Jolly the Trolley in the place of Merrylegs the pony, and Teal’c (the Jaffa) instead of Ginger. Which leaves room for a Grey Beauty – or a Grey Shadow. Some day.

Edit Feb 2008: Comments for this entry when it was on Blogigo:

1. Bunnyman wrote at Jan 10, 2007 at 22:43:
Laptop cases sound great. That way you could blog from almost anywhere.Teal’c (I would have pronounced it ‘Tea Alk’ too) looks like a very eager and willing young trolley, bristling to show just how much he can carry.
It’s good that Jolly went too. I know that I hate being left out of important decisions like that.

Maybe Jolly, in his warm days by the fire, could write his version of “There and back again”, about his adventures to far supermarkets and the wonderful treasures he brought back from exotic charity shops?

2. Pacian wrote at Jan 11, 2007 at 13:39:
Teal’C is my mum’s favourite character as well. And she always pronounces Jaffa like the cake, even though it’s actually more like ‘Jafar’.

And I think they pronounce it more like Teelk. It’s definitely a monosyllabic word.

Anyway, I hope that Jolly will be suitably pampered and looked after now he is no longer working!

Whoever said ‘the moon doth shine as bright as day’ wasn’t just being poetic. It’s spooky. The thing is glaring through the cat flap and spotlighting my doll’s house, and when I look outside I can see everything for miles – including (after a startled jump) a black wheelie bin with something flapping out the top. The stars are clearly visible, prickling sharply in the greenish blue sky, and – because it’s gusty – the moonlight causes twiggy shadows to waver across my walls.

The cat flap was clanging in the porch but never while I was watching. It was bright out there too, and the Christmas stickers on the porch windows threw looming shadows like big black spiders, causing me to twitch.

When I told Mum the new Christmas tree was so big and dense that it filled my window and nobody could see in, it was truer than I realized. When the lights are off and the house is dark, the moon glows though the curtains on either side, leaving the tree as a dark, sinister shape rearing up the middle. It’s my own personal ‘nightmare before Christmas’, only now it’s ‘nightmare after Christmas’, which is far worse because the fairy lights are off.

I couldn’t sleep, so I put the lamp back on.

Earlier I couldn’t keep my eyes open, so now that I should be sleeping, I don’t know why I’m not. I just keep staring at the doll’s house at the end of the room, which is glowing eerily. No lights are showing in the windows, and the inhabitants have clearly gone to bed. Here I am, shut outside their house. Who knows what could be prowling around out here?

I was in town today with Mum and sister and wouldn’t really talk to anyone – it was sort of “ump” every time they spoke to me. It wasn’t planned – I felt surrounded by bargain hunters and children strangers, and my reluctance to speak was almost physical.

I had a very casual Hogmanay. The TV was on for only six minutes so I could hear Big Ben’s chimes. I saw BBC Two long enough to catch Aly Bain and Phil Cunningham, who were playing out the last few minutes of 2006. The presenter introduced them with the words “and here are the Ant and Dec of Scottish music!” and I boggled. I didn’t think they looked anything like Ant and Dec. I wondered if I imagined the quick glance between the two of them – “the WHO of Scottish music??”

We were invited to my sisters’s for a New Year’s Day risotto, and I asked Mum how she spent the final minutes of 2006.
“Doing absolutely nothing,” she said, looking bored.
“I switched on the TV just long enough to hear Big Ben.”
“Nah, there’s really nothing worth watching.”
“Though…” (and I told her about Aly and Phil on BBC 2).
Mum roused enough to say, “Good grief, I saw that too! What a daft thing to say. They have been around much longer than Ant and Dec and are far better known.”

Anyway, six minutes of TV is long enough for us to find something to grumble about.

At my sister’s house we watched The Wind in the Willows, starring actors such as Matt Lucas (Toad) and Bob Hoskins (Badger). I wasn’t sure what I would think, but when we got as far as Ratty and Mole lazing around in the boat, seeming to stick quite well to the script and the whole tone of the book, I decided I liked it.

They underplayed the scene where Mole falls homesick in the snow. They could have made much more of it, but it was a relief that they didn’t, as that bit always makes me grizzle.

Another favourite part was when they got to Badger’s house, fell over his boot-scraper and managed to get themselves invited in (eventually). He doled out a comforting pile of dressing gowns, including a rather lovely red one, and the intrepid travellers sat round the fire and fell asleep. I always love those bits where the adventurers reach a temporary haven of safety. Before Badger even mentioned dressing gowns, I was wondering when he would bring them out and if there would be a red one. Then I looked round at Badger’s decor, and about the only red items were the apples. Very natural colours.

Do most people keep spare dressing gowns? I only have one, along with a thin cotton kimono. I would be a little stuck if Ratty and Mole fell through my door one dark and stormy night. I’ve got lots of blankets, though.

When Mole started snoring in the middle of something Ratty was saying, I said, “Mole goes to sleep early at night.”
“Mm – not like SOME people around here,” said Mum, looking sideways.

Cringe. Maybe I should be more like Mole, then – make him my new role model? I empathize with his realization that he shouldn’t sit indoors all the time where it’s dark and dusty, which I have a tendency to do. Still – my little house might be dark and dusty, and nothing much, but it’s MY little house, and I love it.

It’s getting colder but the gas fire is off and I don’t have the central heating on much. I feel I’m saving energy, and am warm enough with the cats and a blanket. Won’t be staying in this room for long, though, as the desk feels like ice under my palms.

The word ‘jaded’ applies to me just now – I have very little taste for anything, including Christmas (which I normally love). I look around and wonder how anybody else can bear it. All the cars and swimming pools and snooker tables and expensive toys and other such things… where do we get the energy?

I did brighten up a little last night when I watched the last part of a interview of Iain M Banks, science fiction writer. I read one of his books some years ago and wasn’t keen, but I can’t remember what it was. In the interview, he said he knows that some writers don’t like writing much, even though what they write is very good, but he doesn’t see the point of writing if you don’t enjoy it. I understand what he’s saying, but I think even if you’re the kind of writer who finds it a chore, there’s still a strong impulse to write. Life would be a lot emptier without it. Perhaps it’s not the writing that’s hard – more the structuring and planning. I mentioned it to Mum today, and she said exactly the same thing – “it’s not the writing; it’s the coming up with a good plot.”

Something the novelist said was that if he starts putting his point of view down on paper, he’ll sometimes find himself changing his mind even as he writes. It won’t be a total about-face, but he will be in the process of reconsidering aspects of his thoughts. I do that as well – I’ve deleted things I was trying to write because I’ve become less certain. I’ve probably written things in the past I don’t agree with now.

The world is so grey. We grow up thinking there’s only one correct answer for everything; that there is only one acceptable way to live; that there is always a right and always a wrong. Sometimes I find myself wondering… if there were terrible events and we were all wiped out, what would it really matter? In the settling dust there is peace. Nobody ranting and raving, or pointing fingers of blame.

Banks said something that pushed my gloom back into the shadows a little. He said we must write for ourselves and for close friends and family – not for anybody else. All of a sudden I remembered a night years ago: myself sitting up in bed, writing a short story, a very light one, and enjoying every minute of it; sheets of paper flying around the room. It wasn’t even bed – I was sleeping on my sofa at the time because work was being done in the bedroom, but it was fun – an adventure; a new take on life. That’s the spirit I need to get back to – I felt more like ME that night than I do now. I don’t know if I can ever get back to it, but now I’ve remembered what it felt like, maybe…

Edit Feb 2008: Comments to this post when it was hosted on Blogigo:

falcon82 wrote at Nov 16, 2006 at 12:12:
Just let the snow fall on your branches and as the weight increases to a point where it will all fall off and you will be spring again

Katie wrote at Nov 16, 2006 at 12:32:
My mother, an artist and architect, always told me, “draw what you want to see,” which I take to mean, “write what you want to read, ” i.e., write for yourself, or as you have it, just for your loved ones. I write manuals for graduate students, but where I really shine is telling stories to my daughter any time we are walking or stuck in traffic. I just start with a ridiculous sentence and go from there, weaving in bits of history and fantasy and making up stories about the ancient monuments around us here in Istanbul, a terrible romantic city with little written history – so we make our own. Sometimes I have her add sentences and paragraphs and we alternate details. These are the most fun, and I daresay some of the best memories we will have of walking through this ancient city together.

I paid attention to Snoskred. Instead of wrapping myself in silence, I put a CD on.

And I said
Could it be me, could it really really be?
Over and over

Don’t turn me away
And don’t let me down
What can I do
To keep you around?

from Over and Over by Fleetwood Mac

I was just sitting down to type this when the doorbell went. It’s black outside, but only half past six in the evening. It made both me and the cats jump, and I said “rats!” and scowled, but answered the door as pleasantly as I could.

It was a sales consultant – at least, that’s what it said on his badge. He showed me a large brass plaque with a house number and a frilly black iron edge. I was on the point of saying “thanks but no,” without even listening, but when I saw him holding the house number against my house (was it preening and begging for a mirror?), I smiled and said “it’s very nice! …but no thanks.”

The salesman didn’t seem very surprised, and just hoofed it without further urging, which was rather nice too, but maybe he was dying to get home for a hot drink. I’m used to a little more dragging of heels from salesmen, but then they usually arrive when it’s still light.

As I closed the door, I couldn’t help chuckling, as I had reminded myself of the most unlikely character – Korben from The Fifth Element, who is played by Bruce Willis. He answers his door to find himself being held at gunpoint by an opportunist mugger wearing a picture on his head (which I think is supposed to look like an empty hallway when you look through the eyeglass in the door). Korben gets the gun off him without further ado, and then smiles charmingly, saying “nice hat.”
“Oh, so glad you like it!” burbles the mugger.

I know Korben doesn’t have the following problem, though – the doorbell interrupted my letter to Santa Claus.

I used to have a clipboard for writing in bed – I miss it. I don’t like to rest on the backs of books, because you can see the imprint of the writing on the covers. I’ve never understood folks who think a book is a fine mug coaster.

So the following is my Christmas Wish List:

• clipboard

I couldn’t think of anything else. Not even a moleskine notebook - just a clipboard will do me fine, Santa. Oh by the way – nice hat.

Edit Feb 2008: Comments for this entry when it was hosted by Blogigo:

1. Snoskred wrote at Nov 10, 2006 at 07:42:
Good on you for taking the advice.. If you check my last.fm page you can always see what I have been listening to. I think that site is amazingly useful because I can make sure I am listening to something every day and it keeps track of it all for me..

I used to have real trouble sleeping, and someone gave me that advice of keeping a notebook by the side of the bed and writing down the thoughts you kept thinking when you couldn’t sleep. On the inside, I rolled my eyes and sort of went yeah *right* that’ll work, NOT while thanking the person for their advice. But then later that day I figured, nothing else is working for me, I’ll give it a try.

Surprisingly it worked amazingly, and I now have a record of some of the incredibly stupid things I used to think to keep myself from going to sleep. I believe the *most* stupid was this somewhat persistent thought about 3am one morning ‘Did Callista Flockheart wear a skirt on this recent season of Ally Mcbeal” – and I recall mentally trying to go back through the episodes I’d seen and seeing only pants.

I never had a clipboard though, just a little book. And lately I’ve been sleeping ok so I haven’t been needing it. So that’s a good thing. But I still think every household should have at least one clipboard..

2. Pacian wrote at Nov 10, 2006 at 15:14:
Re. Mugger in Fifth Element

Played by Mathieu Kassovitz, I believe. One of my favourite actor-directors.

3. Diddums wrote at Nov 10, 2006 at 21:56:
Funny, I was thinking of Ally McBeal only today! But I was wondering what sort of daft court cases she would be having now if it was still going.

I know what you mean about keeping yourself awake wondering about things that don’t even matter.