I'm following the novel Corduroy Mansions, by Alexander McCall Smith, which is serialised daily in The Telegraph. I love Alexander McCall Smith as a writer, so it is a daily treat. He has an eye for human nature which is both incisive and kind. I imagine he is a terribly nice man, who makes brilliantly witty conversation. If you ever have him round to dinner, please invite me too, and sit me next to him.
Anyway, this morning's chapter contains this brilliant comment on a US/UK difference, which (if I'd written it myself - a minor detail) would make for the perfect expat blog post.
"Americans do not mince their words – it is one of their great qualities, and indeed one of the great causes of misunderstanding between the United States and the United Kingdom, where words are regularly minced so finely as to be virtually unintelligible."
Wonderfully put. It also reminded me of when I was about 14 and in a schools general knowledge competition (hasn't general knowledge fallen from favour? what a shame). The question was the name of the area in London famous for butchers, and I gave the answer "Mincing Lane", which, though precociously brilliant, was incorrect.
My favourite Alexander McCall Smith novels are the ones about Isabel Dalhousie set in Edinburgh, but I also have a soft spot for The 2 1/2 Pillars of Wisdom, which are just too perceptive about life in academia for comfort, if you're married to an academic. The scene in which a German Professor of Philology, by a misunderstanding, has to give a lecture to an audience of American dachsund specialists, made me laugh so hard I nearly fell out of bed, but it also contains observations about education which are wise and spot on. Husband occasionally reads it to his Philosophy students in the last class of their course.
Who else has a favourite Alexander McCall Smith?
.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Pea coat, the song on everyone's lips
Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, the King and Queen of Coats decided to have a party.
A good time was being had by all, but the festivities were getting a bit out of hand, and things were becoming wild. In an attempt to control the chaos, the King decided to get the coats into small groups. He hoped that getting each together with its own kind would calm things down, so he arranged them by category, shouting out instructions. Unfortunately, at this late stage in the proceedings, some of the coats were beyond even knowing for sure what kind of a coat they were.
So the King got his Royal Trumpeters to gain silence with a catchy little fanfare that they'd learnt way back at Trumpet Pre-school, and announced in his most regal tones:
"If you're a pea, and you know it, clap your hands".
I make this up as I go along, you know. I'm sorry. It's just what I do. I should get out more.
.
A good time was being had by all, but the festivities were getting a bit out of hand, and things were becoming wild. In an attempt to control the chaos, the King decided to get the coats into small groups. He hoped that getting each together with its own kind would calm things down, so he arranged them by category, shouting out instructions. Unfortunately, at this late stage in the proceedings, some of the coats were beyond even knowing for sure what kind of a coat they were.
So the King got his Royal Trumpeters to gain silence with a catchy little fanfare that they'd learnt way back at Trumpet Pre-school, and announced in his most regal tones:
"If you're a pea, and you know it, clap your hands".
I make this up as I go along, you know. I'm sorry. It's just what I do. I should get out more.
.
Pea coat, the question on everyone's lips
Why is a pea coat called a pea coat?
Several Google results say this:
The name 'pea coat' comes from the heavy twill material that the coat is made of. It was called pilot cloth, which became known as P cloth. The P coat became the pea coat.
I like my blog to contain educational content. Now you can all impress your friends next time pea coats come up in conversation.
.
Several Google results say this:
The name 'pea coat' comes from the heavy twill material that the coat is made of. It was called pilot cloth, which became known as P cloth. The P coat became the pea coat.
I like my blog to contain educational content. Now you can all impress your friends next time pea coats come up in conversation.
.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Pea coat
I bought a pea coat this morning. I'm very thrilled with it and with myself. Here is a picture of it.
(Ignore that spot in the middle - I was just sponging off a tiny mark and didn't think the damp spot would show up, but it does if you enlarge the photo.)
It's in a colour that seems to be known as teal, though who knows why. It was available in green, and that was tempting, because it would be linguistically so satisfying to have a pea green pea coat, but it wasn't really pea green, more of a muted lime, and anyway I preferred the blue. Though I did stop to wonder if the pussy cat was perhaps wearing a pea green coat when she went to sea in the pea green boat. That, too, would be linguistically satisfying, but I doubt Edward Lear ever gave much thought to it.
It is my birthday soon, and when Husband asked if there was anything I wanted, I said I would like to go shopping and choose myself some new clothes. This isn't such a treat for me as it sounds, actually, as I don't really like shopping. No, honestly. I can get into the swing of it, and then I have quite a good time, but the idea of a morning looking at and trying on clothes doesn't reach out and grab me. I have to psyche myself up. Odd, I know. I'm indecisive, and so I agonise over what to buy rather painfully. Plus I'm at that stage in life when changing rooms are more like confessionals. Today, for example, I discovered I have varicose veins on my right knee as well as my left. How did I not know that? And I haven't been shopping for clothes for six months, so there's the new body shape issue to deal with too.
For the past 12 years, whenever I've gone shopping for clothes for me I've almost always ended up browsing and making purchases in the childrenswear department, where it's much more fun. I do like new clothes and the nice feeling that comes with wearing them (phew, you're thinking), but the whole process of acquiring them leaves me a bit cold. One of the things I would do if I was overbearingly wealthy, would be to employ someone with excellent taste, who would tell me what I'd look best in, go and buy lots of outfits for me to try on in the comfort of my own home, and then take back the ones I didn't like. It would have to be someone who would encourage me to be more adventurous than I naturally am, and someone who could cope with indecisiveness in a client. I guess there are people out there who like that kind of career opportunity, and I'll tell you what. When I'm rich and looking to recruit, the first person who makes reference to this blog post will get the job. It will show either that they are reading my blog now and obviously you would all make fabulous personal style consultants, or it will show that they have done a huge amount of research into my past personal history, which would no doubt look good at the interview. Make a note, if you're a wannabe personal shopper to the rich. You never know when this might come good.
I wasn't on my official birthday shopping outing, but this morning, in Target (oh the high life) I spotted the pea coat. And I just knew it was ME. And it was $10 off. By the time I got to the fitting room, I had managed to acquire quite a few other items too. When I checked out, I found I had bought a pea coat, two pairs of cords (one in daring raspberry), three sweaters (and I didn't just consider how warm or how practical they'd be when I chose them), and two long-sleeved t-shirts (don't they make them deliciously soft these days?) I know this sounds extravagant, but (a) this was Target not some fancy boutique, and (b) you have to remember I'm not like you ordinary lovely people whose shopping instincts need to be curbed. I'm in need of encouragement, and this haul represents a healthy step towards making good a sadly lacking wardrobe. Plus it shows that I am capable of impulse-buying, which is an area where personal development is definitely needed.
You know what? I think I could develop a taste for this shopping lark...
.
(Ignore that spot in the middle - I was just sponging off a tiny mark and didn't think the damp spot would show up, but it does if you enlarge the photo.)
It's in a colour that seems to be known as teal, though who knows why. It was available in green, and that was tempting, because it would be linguistically so satisfying to have a pea green pea coat, but it wasn't really pea green, more of a muted lime, and anyway I preferred the blue. Though I did stop to wonder if the pussy cat was perhaps wearing a pea green coat when she went to sea in the pea green boat. That, too, would be linguistically satisfying, but I doubt Edward Lear ever gave much thought to it.
It is my birthday soon, and when Husband asked if there was anything I wanted, I said I would like to go shopping and choose myself some new clothes. This isn't such a treat for me as it sounds, actually, as I don't really like shopping. No, honestly. I can get into the swing of it, and then I have quite a good time, but the idea of a morning looking at and trying on clothes doesn't reach out and grab me. I have to psyche myself up. Odd, I know. I'm indecisive, and so I agonise over what to buy rather painfully. Plus I'm at that stage in life when changing rooms are more like confessionals. Today, for example, I discovered I have varicose veins on my right knee as well as my left. How did I not know that? And I haven't been shopping for clothes for six months, so there's the new body shape issue to deal with too.
For the past 12 years, whenever I've gone shopping for clothes for me I've almost always ended up browsing and making purchases in the childrenswear department, where it's much more fun. I do like new clothes and the nice feeling that comes with wearing them (phew, you're thinking), but the whole process of acquiring them leaves me a bit cold. One of the things I would do if I was overbearingly wealthy, would be to employ someone with excellent taste, who would tell me what I'd look best in, go and buy lots of outfits for me to try on in the comfort of my own home, and then take back the ones I didn't like. It would have to be someone who would encourage me to be more adventurous than I naturally am, and someone who could cope with indecisiveness in a client. I guess there are people out there who like that kind of career opportunity, and I'll tell you what. When I'm rich and looking to recruit, the first person who makes reference to this blog post will get the job. It will show either that they are reading my blog now and obviously you would all make fabulous personal style consultants, or it will show that they have done a huge amount of research into my past personal history, which would no doubt look good at the interview. Make a note, if you're a wannabe personal shopper to the rich. You never know when this might come good.
I wasn't on my official birthday shopping outing, but this morning, in Target (oh the high life) I spotted the pea coat. And I just knew it was ME. And it was $10 off. By the time I got to the fitting room, I had managed to acquire quite a few other items too. When I checked out, I found I had bought a pea coat, two pairs of cords (one in daring raspberry), three sweaters (and I didn't just consider how warm or how practical they'd be when I chose them), and two long-sleeved t-shirts (don't they make them deliciously soft these days?) I know this sounds extravagant, but (a) this was Target not some fancy boutique, and (b) you have to remember I'm not like you ordinary lovely people whose shopping instincts need to be curbed. I'm in need of encouragement, and this haul represents a healthy step towards making good a sadly lacking wardrobe. Plus it shows that I am capable of impulse-buying, which is an area where personal development is definitely needed.
You know what? I think I could develop a taste for this shopping lark...
.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Mulkar
It's a rum deal when you can't even understand your own children's accents.
8-yo was talking to me about a film he wants to see, called Mulkar. Now, I'm quite used to movies, books, games and toys with odd names. It goes with the mother-of-small-boys territory (if you have boy babies or toddlers, you are right to be feeling nervous at this point). I don't know where it all started, but I suspect the Three Wise Men had something to do with it. It's impossible to keep up. Just as you've mastered the use of a few words of the world of Yu-gi-oh, along comes Pokemon, and just as you've mastered a few Pokemon words and are feeling smug about knowing there's an accent over that e in the middle, along comes Bakugan. Is Bakugan out in the UK yet? And in case you thought you had Bakugan sussed, your son will develop an interest in Star Wars and all its spin-offs, or Bionicles.
Do any of you remember Lego Knight's Kingdom? Perhaps it's still current, but I haven't noticed them in any stores round here recently. That was the worst. In days of old, knights were called knighty names like Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot. These days they have names like Sir Nasdaq and Sir Indesit. From the mighty realm of Vorsprung Durch Technik.
So yes, I'm quite used to made-up names being bandied about. For example, we own a DVD entitled Picachu. We really do. We have another entitled Squirtle. We also have The Battle of Metru Nui. See what I mean.
I've learnt that the thing to do with these names is to abandon all hope of remembering them, or of making any sense at all of how they relate to each other. It's very irritating for small boys to be interrupted by a keen parent with "ah, how's that Toa doing, there?" when he has a Visorak in each hand. Or "can I be Yoshi?" when you're not even playing Wii Mario Super Sluggers (okay okay, now I'm just showing off). No, the best thing to do, is to sound very interested, nod wisely, and let the names flow right through your brain without even attempting to stop them at a memory cell somewhere. Then you just have to bluff (what do you mean, you can't bluff? It wasn't THAT long since you were in the workplace.)
In my defence, I was driving while we were discussing Mulkar. As you all know, the average Midwestern mom vehicle is only a whisker shorter than a London bus. If I'm in the driving seat (which, being safety conscious, I always am when I'm driving) and your child is in the back, you really need an intercom system or some hands-free walkie-talkies to communicate with each other. Speaking of London buses, I'm thinking of running a string down the side of the car interior, with a bell, so that the children can indicate to me when they want me to stop. Anyway, I was driving, and the conversation went like this:
8-yo: Can I see Mulkar?
Me: Mulkar? Is it a good movie? Have any of your friends seen it? (buying time here)
8-yo: Yes, it's good. Can I see it?
Me: (thinks: darn it, I still don't know what genre we're in here) Um... I'll have to think about it. What's it called again?
8-yo: Mulkar. Mul-kar.
Me: Mulkar. Yes. Is that about... Mulkar?
8-yo: Mom! Mul... Kar...
12-yo: (joining in the exasperation) Mom! It's Mul... Kar... You know. As in Mul... Kar...
Me: Mul... Kar...? As in Mul... Kar...?
12-yo eventually spelt the words out for me. Have you guessed what it was they were talking about?
Click here to find out.
I'm wondering if it stars John Mulkarvich.
.
8-yo was talking to me about a film he wants to see, called Mulkar. Now, I'm quite used to movies, books, games and toys with odd names. It goes with the mother-of-small-boys territory (if you have boy babies or toddlers, you are right to be feeling nervous at this point). I don't know where it all started, but I suspect the Three Wise Men had something to do with it. It's impossible to keep up. Just as you've mastered the use of a few words of the world of Yu-gi-oh, along comes Pokemon, and just as you've mastered a few Pokemon words and are feeling smug about knowing there's an accent over that e in the middle, along comes Bakugan. Is Bakugan out in the UK yet? And in case you thought you had Bakugan sussed, your son will develop an interest in Star Wars and all its spin-offs, or Bionicles.
Do any of you remember Lego Knight's Kingdom? Perhaps it's still current, but I haven't noticed them in any stores round here recently. That was the worst. In days of old, knights were called knighty names like Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot. These days they have names like Sir Nasdaq and Sir Indesit. From the mighty realm of Vorsprung Durch Technik.
So yes, I'm quite used to made-up names being bandied about. For example, we own a DVD entitled Picachu. We really do. We have another entitled Squirtle. We also have The Battle of Metru Nui. See what I mean.
I've learnt that the thing to do with these names is to abandon all hope of remembering them, or of making any sense at all of how they relate to each other. It's very irritating for small boys to be interrupted by a keen parent with "ah, how's that Toa doing, there?" when he has a Visorak in each hand. Or "can I be Yoshi?" when you're not even playing Wii Mario Super Sluggers (okay okay, now I'm just showing off). No, the best thing to do, is to sound very interested, nod wisely, and let the names flow right through your brain without even attempting to stop them at a memory cell somewhere. Then you just have to bluff (what do you mean, you can't bluff? It wasn't THAT long since you were in the workplace.)
In my defence, I was driving while we were discussing Mulkar. As you all know, the average Midwestern mom vehicle is only a whisker shorter than a London bus. If I'm in the driving seat (which, being safety conscious, I always am when I'm driving) and your child is in the back, you really need an intercom system or some hands-free walkie-talkies to communicate with each other. Speaking of London buses, I'm thinking of running a string down the side of the car interior, with a bell, so that the children can indicate to me when they want me to stop. Anyway, I was driving, and the conversation went like this:
8-yo: Can I see Mulkar?
Me: Mulkar? Is it a good movie? Have any of your friends seen it? (buying time here)
8-yo: Yes, it's good. Can I see it?
Me: (thinks: darn it, I still don't know what genre we're in here) Um... I'll have to think about it. What's it called again?
8-yo: Mulkar. Mul-kar.
Me: Mulkar. Yes. Is that about... Mulkar?
8-yo: Mom! Mul... Kar...
12-yo: (joining in the exasperation) Mom! It's Mul... Kar... You know. As in Mul... Kar...
Me: Mul... Kar...? As in Mul... Kar...?
12-yo eventually spelt the words out for me. Have you guessed what it was they were talking about?
Click here to find out.
I'm wondering if it stars John Mulkarvich.
.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Commercial and competitive?
There’s been a bit of a discussion going on in the blogging world about whether mummy blogging is getting commercial and competitive. I thought I’d throw in my pennyworth.
I’ve been blogging since May 2007, and I will confess that when British Mummy Bloggers was set up, I did have my reservations, and they were along those very lines. I have been browsing in my gmail archives, and I’m going to be brave and share with you a little of what I thought then, and what I think now.
Back in February, I joined BMB at its inception. At the time, I was e-chatting to another blogger about it, and said:
“… I read that blogging is now the key plank in customer-orientated PR in America. If you browse the American mommy blogs you can see why. They take forever to upload, because they're so full of adverts and pictures and links. Yuk. V tempting to think, as a stuck-at-home mum, that you can make a bit of cash on the side, but it does take a bit of the fun out of it, I think. I like all the quirky oddbods you meet in blogland (oops, hope I haven't been offensive there), and the last thing I need them to do is to be telling me what "must have" I'm missing out on…”
I said to another e-chat blogging friend:
“… I know we British bloggers are a bit backward, but I like that. I fit right in! Blogging isn't nearly as commercialised in the UK, and I really do think that is a good thing.
Of course you can say "you don't have to have ads just because everyone else does", and that is true. But once something becomes commercial, it is harder to exist on the edges. And the more the culture is about stats and income, the more that will affect who blogs. It will be more intimidating to start a blog, more difficult to get readers, the focus will change. I think it's inevitable, and I don't really mind because I’ve already found my place in the blogosphere, but it's a pity when every single area of life has to be about product promotion, advertising, marketing, etc...”
Do I think I was right? To a large extent, yes, I do, but not entirely. In becoming more organized, courtesy of BMB, mummy blogging in the UK has become more commercialized. Part of that is because we’re more easily available to the commercial world, and the Tots 100 list has helped that considerably. But I think it’s worked backwards too – if I can put it that way. People - mums - with business interests to promote, have started blogs as a way to do that. The range of interests is huge, from handmade crafts to PR consultancy. I’m not implying that their blogs are any the less valid. Not at all. My point is that it’s not just a question of mummy blogging becoming more commercial. It’s also the case that internet commerce has become more bloggy.
Has that made the scene more competitive? The two usually go together. Well, perhaps a little. Do I mind? No, I don’t. The way I see it is this. The blogosphere is a huge world, and there is room for us all in it. You just have to find your own space. If it’s all about the writing for you, then, great. If it’s a tool to promote your crocheted baby socks, then, great. If it’s a way of letting off steam when your toddler is driving you mad, then, great. If you want your blog to be on a list of top blogs, then you can find out the criteria and aim for that. If that’s not what you blog for, then don’t worry about it.
The bit I was wrong about was my prediction that it would make the process of starting a blog intimidating, and that somehow we existing bloggers would all be fighting harder for the same pool of readers. In fact the opposite is true, as the explosion in the number of parent bloggers testifies. There are more blogs and more readers than ever before. More fishermen, but a whole lot more fish too – because the fishermen are the fish, when it comes to mummy blogging.
For me, blogging is like going out for a drink with a bunch of mates. You can have a fine old time catching up on what’s been happening in their lives, and sharing what’s been happening in yours. You can have a rant and get a sympathetic hearing. You can have a joke. One of the group might have brought along a friend, and then you have an introduction to a new person. Meanwhile, the rest of the pub will be full of all sorts and you know, it might even be a bit competitive out there because we humans seem to do the competitive thing rather a lot. People will be worrying whether it’s the cool place in town, or whether the pub down the road is better. People will be talking in loud voices about themselves, and generally strutting their stuff. If you want, you can join in. No-one is stopping you. But if you prefer, you can just sit in your corner having a cosy time, and cast your eyes around every now and again to see what else is going on. You’re all contributing to the atmosphere. If there is room for all sorts within the four walls of a pub, how much more is that true of the wall-less internet?
I’m heading back to my virtual corner with my virtual drink now, though I’m a bit worried I might find myself on my own, since I have publicly confessed to describing you, my lovely bloggy friends, in private correspondence as “quirky oddbods”… I didn't mean ALL of you, of course. If you don't feel that title fits you personally, then you can rest assured it must have been some of the others I was talking about.
.
I’ve been blogging since May 2007, and I will confess that when British Mummy Bloggers was set up, I did have my reservations, and they were along those very lines. I have been browsing in my gmail archives, and I’m going to be brave and share with you a little of what I thought then, and what I think now.
Back in February, I joined BMB at its inception. At the time, I was e-chatting to another blogger about it, and said:
“… I read that blogging is now the key plank in customer-orientated PR in America. If you browse the American mommy blogs you can see why. They take forever to upload, because they're so full of adverts and pictures and links. Yuk. V tempting to think, as a stuck-at-home mum, that you can make a bit of cash on the side, but it does take a bit of the fun out of it, I think. I like all the quirky oddbods you meet in blogland (oops, hope I haven't been offensive there), and the last thing I need them to do is to be telling me what "must have" I'm missing out on…”
I said to another e-chat blogging friend:
“… I know we British bloggers are a bit backward, but I like that. I fit right in! Blogging isn't nearly as commercialised in the UK, and I really do think that is a good thing.
Of course you can say "you don't have to have ads just because everyone else does", and that is true. But once something becomes commercial, it is harder to exist on the edges. And the more the culture is about stats and income, the more that will affect who blogs. It will be more intimidating to start a blog, more difficult to get readers, the focus will change. I think it's inevitable, and I don't really mind because I’ve already found my place in the blogosphere, but it's a pity when every single area of life has to be about product promotion, advertising, marketing, etc...”
Do I think I was right? To a large extent, yes, I do, but not entirely. In becoming more organized, courtesy of BMB, mummy blogging in the UK has become more commercialized. Part of that is because we’re more easily available to the commercial world, and the Tots 100 list has helped that considerably. But I think it’s worked backwards too – if I can put it that way. People - mums - with business interests to promote, have started blogs as a way to do that. The range of interests is huge, from handmade crafts to PR consultancy. I’m not implying that their blogs are any the less valid. Not at all. My point is that it’s not just a question of mummy blogging becoming more commercial. It’s also the case that internet commerce has become more bloggy.
Has that made the scene more competitive? The two usually go together. Well, perhaps a little. Do I mind? No, I don’t. The way I see it is this. The blogosphere is a huge world, and there is room for us all in it. You just have to find your own space. If it’s all about the writing for you, then, great. If it’s a tool to promote your crocheted baby socks, then, great. If it’s a way of letting off steam when your toddler is driving you mad, then, great. If you want your blog to be on a list of top blogs, then you can find out the criteria and aim for that. If that’s not what you blog for, then don’t worry about it.
The bit I was wrong about was my prediction that it would make the process of starting a blog intimidating, and that somehow we existing bloggers would all be fighting harder for the same pool of readers. In fact the opposite is true, as the explosion in the number of parent bloggers testifies. There are more blogs and more readers than ever before. More fishermen, but a whole lot more fish too – because the fishermen are the fish, when it comes to mummy blogging.
For me, blogging is like going out for a drink with a bunch of mates. You can have a fine old time catching up on what’s been happening in their lives, and sharing what’s been happening in yours. You can have a rant and get a sympathetic hearing. You can have a joke. One of the group might have brought along a friend, and then you have an introduction to a new person. Meanwhile, the rest of the pub will be full of all sorts and you know, it might even be a bit competitive out there because we humans seem to do the competitive thing rather a lot. People will be worrying whether it’s the cool place in town, or whether the pub down the road is better. People will be talking in loud voices about themselves, and generally strutting their stuff. If you want, you can join in. No-one is stopping you. But if you prefer, you can just sit in your corner having a cosy time, and cast your eyes around every now and again to see what else is going on. You’re all contributing to the atmosphere. If there is room for all sorts within the four walls of a pub, how much more is that true of the wall-less internet?
I’m heading back to my virtual corner with my virtual drink now, though I’m a bit worried I might find myself on my own, since I have publicly confessed to describing you, my lovely bloggy friends, in private correspondence as “quirky oddbods”… I didn't mean ALL of you, of course. If you don't feel that title fits you personally, then you can rest assured it must have been some of the others I was talking about.
.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
The last daily post
Day 31 of ‘The Daily Post’.
I’ve done it. I have published a post a day (and two yesterday) for a month.
It worked out rather differently to how I’d imagined. I love blogging and writing, so I thought I was just giving myself licence to spend a chunk of every day doing what I might otherwise have felt a bit guilty for. And that did happen, at the beginning, but as time wore on, I found (and I never thought I’d hear myself say this) that I was getting a bit fed up with it. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it became a chore, but there were certainly days when I did a quick couple of hundred words, and was glad to see the back of them. I’d put that down as a positive result. I have sometimes worried how addicted I am to blogging, and it is nice to see that I can, after all, be sated by it. Sated and ready to take a step back of my own free will.
Another positive outcome, which I had hoped for, is that I am better at writing short posts. Hurrah. I can still burble on at great length, but I have become practised at getting my thoughts organized into a smaller space. I have also become more disciplined with time – another outcome I’d hoped for. I used to spend hours writing even a short post. I’d write and rewrite, cogitate and regurgitate. Over the past month, I’ve made myself sit down, write the post straight, read it through once and make corrections, and then publish it without endless tinkering. So on the plus side, I have had the practice I wanted in writing posts that are short and to the point, and in doing them quickly (or more quickly than my previous snail-like self - it's all relative).
On the negative side, I really missed allowing decent time for comments. You’ve all been very loyal, but of course a post doesn’t get so many comments if it’s only at the top of the blog for a single day. And it’s not just the number of comments that adds to the richness of the blog. It’s the way the conversation develops, with people picking up on each other’s comments. A blog post is like a cheese or a fine wine. It needs time to mature.
Another negative is that I haven’t had the opportunity to write down some of the meatier stuff that is in my head. I have so much I still want to say about life in the US through British eyes. Guns, religion, education, friendships, buying and selling a house, some of my early impressions… The kind of things that I might string together into the book that is always lingering at the back of my mind. This month didn’t bring it any further forward. Drat. But the pressure of a daily post militates against that kind of writing. I had anticipated that with all three children at school full-time and my health returning to normal, I’d have enough hours in a day to tackle some of those subjects in longer, more thoughtful, pieces. I had reckoned without the invasion of daily life. One thing about feeling better healthwise is that you inevitably do more around the house, and outside the home. I’m happy about that, of course, but I had forgotten to factor it into the equation. I’d also reckoned without 6 days of sick children off school, and 7 days of school out for teacher training, state assessments or parent conferences (having children at two different schools means that there is twice as much of this). That’s 13 school days out of 20 or so. Hm, now I count them up, I realise it’s no wonder it’s felt like I haven’t much time to myself.
So in sum, I’m glad I did ‘The Daily Post’, and I think it was an achievement to complete it without missing a day. I don’t think I’ll do it again, and certainly not for a while. I’m all blogged out! It did make me realize what a huge undertaking it was to cook over 500 recipes and blog about them in a year, as Julie did in the movie Julie and Julia, which is where this idea all started. I've just re-read that post, and the reasons I gave for setting myself this challenge. I'd rather forgotten what I was feeling at that time. I've certainly got more sense of purpose than I had back then, more zest for life. I guess at least part of that must be due to 'The Daily Post'. It's been one part of the jigsaw falling into place.
I didn’t get much tapestry done, since one of you is bound to ask.
.
I’ve done it. I have published a post a day (and two yesterday) for a month.
It worked out rather differently to how I’d imagined. I love blogging and writing, so I thought I was just giving myself licence to spend a chunk of every day doing what I might otherwise have felt a bit guilty for. And that did happen, at the beginning, but as time wore on, I found (and I never thought I’d hear myself say this) that I was getting a bit fed up with it. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it became a chore, but there were certainly days when I did a quick couple of hundred words, and was glad to see the back of them. I’d put that down as a positive result. I have sometimes worried how addicted I am to blogging, and it is nice to see that I can, after all, be sated by it. Sated and ready to take a step back of my own free will.
Another positive outcome, which I had hoped for, is that I am better at writing short posts. Hurrah. I can still burble on at great length, but I have become practised at getting my thoughts organized into a smaller space. I have also become more disciplined with time – another outcome I’d hoped for. I used to spend hours writing even a short post. I’d write and rewrite, cogitate and regurgitate. Over the past month, I’ve made myself sit down, write the post straight, read it through once and make corrections, and then publish it without endless tinkering. So on the plus side, I have had the practice I wanted in writing posts that are short and to the point, and in doing them quickly (or more quickly than my previous snail-like self - it's all relative).
On the negative side, I really missed allowing decent time for comments. You’ve all been very loyal, but of course a post doesn’t get so many comments if it’s only at the top of the blog for a single day. And it’s not just the number of comments that adds to the richness of the blog. It’s the way the conversation develops, with people picking up on each other’s comments. A blog post is like a cheese or a fine wine. It needs time to mature.
Another negative is that I haven’t had the opportunity to write down some of the meatier stuff that is in my head. I have so much I still want to say about life in the US through British eyes. Guns, religion, education, friendships, buying and selling a house, some of my early impressions… The kind of things that I might string together into the book that is always lingering at the back of my mind. This month didn’t bring it any further forward. Drat. But the pressure of a daily post militates against that kind of writing. I had anticipated that with all three children at school full-time and my health returning to normal, I’d have enough hours in a day to tackle some of those subjects in longer, more thoughtful, pieces. I had reckoned without the invasion of daily life. One thing about feeling better healthwise is that you inevitably do more around the house, and outside the home. I’m happy about that, of course, but I had forgotten to factor it into the equation. I’d also reckoned without 6 days of sick children off school, and 7 days of school out for teacher training, state assessments or parent conferences (having children at two different schools means that there is twice as much of this). That’s 13 school days out of 20 or so. Hm, now I count them up, I realise it’s no wonder it’s felt like I haven’t much time to myself.
So in sum, I’m glad I did ‘The Daily Post’, and I think it was an achievement to complete it without missing a day. I don’t think I’ll do it again, and certainly not for a while. I’m all blogged out! It did make me realize what a huge undertaking it was to cook over 500 recipes and blog about them in a year, as Julie did in the movie Julie and Julia, which is where this idea all started. I've just re-read that post, and the reasons I gave for setting myself this challenge. I'd rather forgotten what I was feeling at that time. I've certainly got more sense of purpose than I had back then, more zest for life. I guess at least part of that must be due to 'The Daily Post'. It's been one part of the jigsaw falling into place.
I didn’t get much tapestry done, since one of you is bound to ask.
.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)