Keris Stainton's Blog, page 41

Boy quotes

Harry: “I’m a secret agent, not a dancer. I’ve got four TV shows and four jobs – I don’t want any more!”

I just said, about the mother in Tangled, “Wow, she’s a horror.” Harry said, “Yeah. Like you today.” Ha! #megastress

Joe’s playing hide and seek with a sandwich. The sandwich is winning.

Picked Harry up from school. He looks perturbed. Asked what’s wrong. ”I feel like someone’s watching me. Maybe a robot bird…” :/

Joe says he has an friend at preschool called Macarena. I don’t think that’s true (although I wouldn’t be surprised).

“I’m not scared of anything since Mr Smith and K9 came into my life.” They fell out of the sky, apparently.

Joe shouting from his bed: “You okay down there, Mama?”

Harry: “I wish someone could read my mind… Oh! I can read my own mind and tell you!”

Joe just sat next to Harry, stroked his arm and said, “You beautiful, Harry.” Me and D both welled up. #wussies

Harry: “Wall-e and Eve made me a Mr Smith, so I could give him up [for Lent]… Or I could give up my other dimensionator…”

Joe: “I want to sit on your yap, Middy an’ watch you workin’, Mama.”

52 Books: This is How it Ends by Kathleen MacMahon (win a copy!)

I didn’t know what to expect from this book at all. I’ll be honest, I only really wanted to read it because I knew the author got a huge (six figure) advance and I’m nothing if not nosy. Here’s the blurb (I’m also lazy):

THIS IS HOW IT ENDS tells the story of two people who collide with each other just as the whole world seems to be caught between the hope and promise of Obama’s election and the catastrophic collapse of the global economy.

Bruno is a middle-aged American banker who has come to Ireland to escape the financial meltdown in his own country. Addie is an out-of-work Irish architect. Childless and isolated when she meets Bruno, her life seems to be on a downward spiral.

Addie and Bruno’s story is one of nationality and identity, of the power of optimism to defeat despair and the unstoppable march of time. It’s the story of two people who find joy together when they were least expecting it. It’s about the past and the future and the elusive skill of living in the moment. It is a love story for our times.

I read this a while ago when the publishers kindly sent me a (very swanky) proof, so details are hazy, but I really loved it. It’s one of those books that you’re just pootling along with and then you find that it’s got under your skin. I’ve seen it compared to One Day a lot and, like One Day, it’s not perfect, but I still find myself thinking about certain scenes and characters months later.

And along with the swanky proof, the lovely people at Sphere also sent me a finished copy. If you’d like to be in with a chance to win it, please leave a comment (making sure you leave your email address so I can contact you if you win). Deadline is Sunday, 3 June, midnight GMT. UK only, I’m afraid, cos it’s a hardback. 

Simplify/Focus

On Friday, I turned 41. On Saturday, we lost yet another family member. It’s made me think. Actually, it’s just made me think more about things I’ve been thinking for a while. You know.

There’s this (which is, these days, constantly in the back of my mind). There’s the line from my other uncle’s epitaph: “And once… he went to Jersey”. There’s the fact that I can practically see Harry and Joe growing in front of my eyes.

There are so many things I want to do. With writing. With blogging. With homeschooling. With my family. And I spend a lot of time procrastinating and just basically faffing about. And that’s a lot of fun – I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t – but it also takes a lot of time. Time that I know could be better spent. So I’m cutting back. Streamlining. Getting organised.

This means less Twitter, Facebook and blog reading. It may actually mean more blogging, since I’ve enjoyed NaBloPoMo. But if I unfollow/unfriend/unsubscribe PLEASE don’t be offended. It’s not you, it’s me. Really.

If you’ve been following me for a while, you’re probably going, “Yeah. Heard this before. Anyone remember internet-free weekends?” I know. And, you know, this may not work. I may creep back and blush to remember this post. I hope not. Or you may not even notice. Because I’ll still be tweeting and FB’ing and blogging. Just not as much. Probably.

Uncle John

My Uncle John died last night.

He and Aunty Barb had been married for 59 years. She was looking forward to getting the telegram from the Queen next year.

 

Lavender watch

I absolutely love lavender and we’re lucky enough to have an enormous lavender bush in our front garden. A couple of weeks ago, I noticed it was just starting to bud and so I took a photo, assuming it would be flourishing within days. In fact, until today there has been no discernible difference at all.

But just as I came home, I noticed the buds have just started to open. Enough that I can see the colour. Love it.

Five things you (probably) didn’t know you could do with your Kindle

I’ve mentioned Wrappz.com before and my Kindle is currently adorned with a lovely Jessie Hearts NYC skin from there, but new book = new skin, so soon I will be ordering an Emma Hearts LA version.

I read about Readlists via Swissmiss and it sounds like a great idea. Collect a bunch of web pages and have them sent to your Kindle like an ebook.

I haven’t tried Readlists, but I do use the Google Chrome Send to Kindle add-on quite a lot. As above, it’s for sending web content to your Kindle for offline reading. Great for longer articles/blog posts. I’ve also just started using Instapaper (on Diane‘s recommendation) and that seems really great. You save any articles you want to read later and set Instapaper to send them direct to your Kindle.

Did you know you can transfer the notes you make on your Kindle to your computer? No, neither did I. (Unless you did, in which case, why didn’t you tell me?) Until I read this. (via @IndieAuthorsAlliance)

I’m sure you know you can send documents to your Kindle, but did you know that if you email a PDF with “convert” in the subject line, it will automatically be converted into a more readable format? So much better than all the zooming you have to do with a PDF.

Anything I’m missing? Let me know. 

Where’s our Avenger?

I haven’t seen Avengers Assemble yet, but when I saw the trailer, I thought, ‘Hmm. Just the one female character…’ Then I saw this. And then I saw someone on Twitter saying it doesn’t pass the Bechdel Test, which I can’t say I’m that surprised about, apart from the fact that it’s a Joss Whedon film and Joss is usually down with that sort of thing. (When asked in an interview years ago why he writes strong female characters, he responded “Because you’re still asking me that question.”) But this post isn’t really about that – if you’re interested in Avengers Assemble read this post instead. Or, you know, as well.

No, it was when I saw this UK Avengers poster - via Inside a Story on Tumblr – which has no female characters at all. I probably would have just huffed, but moments earlier I’d been looking at these really cute bookmarks by Bethy Designs on Etsy and I’d noticed that there was only one female character (Gwen from Merlin) there too.

I think there are probably a few female characters that could have a bookmark, if not make it onto that poster – I’m mainly thinking Amy Pond, I’ll be honest – but I can’t think of any more. Now this may just be that I’m not watching the right TV shows. Who am I missing? Or do we need Joss Whedon to come and write us a British Buffy?

Fanilow

On Saturday night, I went to see Barry Manilow at the M.E.N. in Manchester. I have loved Barry for years. Here’s something I wrote on my old blog on 26 March 2004:

About 12 years ago I was incredibly unhappy. I hated my job, my boss was a total bitch, I was living in London and lonely. Work got so bad one day that I had sort of a panic attack, couldn’t breathe and was crying, but didn’t know I was crying – I was just getting on with my work with tears streaming down my face. On the way home I went into WH Smiths to buy a book that I couldn’t afford, because my friend Byron had recommended it and I needed something to take my mind off how awful my life was. The book was Tales of the City. 

Then I went into a second hand record shop and saw a few Barry albums. I’d had a bit of a Barry “phase” when I was about 10 and my dad brought Let’s Hang On home from work (he worked on a newspaper and used to get free review singles). I’d loved it and bought two cassettes from a library sale and was Barry-fixated for a while. Anyway, I bought the albums and went home. 

I had a week off work and spent the time crying, reading Armistead Maupin (I went and bought the other five books in the series even though I had no money – I probably went to Safeways and got cashback, even though my account was empty – you could do that then. Not good.), listening to Barry and watching The Thorn Birds on video (melodramatic, moi?). 

At the end of the week Barry played the Albert Hall and I bought a ticket from a tout (must’ve been to Safeways again). I sat in the balcony in my ratty jeans surrounded by middle-aged women in furs who’d had their hair set for the occasion, and I was transfixed. My memory of it is like one of those film moments where the hero and heroine see each other through a tunnel of light and everything around them disappears. I loved it. I loved him. And I’ve loved him ever since.

David pointed out that I’m probably now the same age as those women in furs I saw at the Albert Hall. I am very much unimpressed with this observation.

Since that first show, I’ve seen him almost every time he’s toured over here. I saw him at Wembley Arena with my mum. I saw him at the M.E.N. when he had flu and did a ridiculously short set (but long enough that refunds didn’t have to be given… hmmm). I saw him when I was enormously pregnant with Joe. Every single time (apart from the flu show, which, on Saturday night, he described as “the massacre in Manchester”), he’s been wonderful.

I don’t mind saying that I had a little cry this time. During Sweet Heaven, weirdly, since it’s not even a sad song. But my life has changed SO MUCH since that Albert Hall show. I’m so much happier than I was back then, but of course back then I still had my parents, so, you know, bittersweet.

And then he did this – duetting with his younger self – so that didn’t help either. (It’s my birthday soon. I’m feeling fragile.)

 

52 Books: Adorkable by Sarra Manning

If you read my recent ‘Favourite feminist reads‘ post for International Chick Lit Month, you’ll know I had high hopes for Adorkable, but it actually exceeded them. I adored it.

Here’s the blurb:

Jeane Smith’s a blogger, a dreamer, a dare-to-dreamer, jumble sale queen, CEO of her own lifestyle brand and has half a million followers on Twitter. Michael Lee’s a star of school, stage and playing field. A golden boy in a Jack Wills hoodie. They have nothing in common but a pair of cheating exes. So why can’t they stop snogging?

I was so envious when Sarra first mentioned this book because, oh my god, such a good idea. But the execution is even better. This book is funny, sweet, smart, clever, completely up to date and totally addictive. I really didn’t want it to end and I actually considered asking Sarra for any outtakes (I know she writes really long first drafts) because I just wanted more time with the characters. Highly recommended.

Fishy

I made this – Nadia Sawahla’s sister’s fish stew recipe – last night. That’s her photo, not mine. Mine did not look that good, but it tasted great.

I love fish stew and it’s really easy to make, but for some reason we hardly ever have it. Must try harder. Not least because it reminds me of holidays. I had a Pizza Express pizza with anchovies recently and went into a total reverie – it didn’t just remind me of holidays, it took me right back to the last holiday me and D had before we had Harry (Samos, if you’re interested). I’ve been craving anchovy pizza ever since.

(For some unknown reason, I can never remember the word “anchovy”. I asked David the other day – “Those little teeny fish you get on pizzas” and he shrugged and went “I dunno…” like a teenager. Until recently, I could never remember the word “dachshund” – I’d always have to say “sausage dogs – what are they called?” but then suddenly I found that one was sticking. Weird.)