Zoe Copley's Blog: Spring to Mind, page 2
May 22, 2011
The Impossibility of Failure
We all have a recurring dream - or two or three - which no doubt represent a fear, a state of mind or a phase in our journeys. One of mine is that I am due to sit a final year law exam in something tricky like Restitution of Conflicts of Law. In the dream I am unprepared; chronically and desperately unprepared. The remarkable thing is that even with the semi-conscious awareness that the sleeping brain always has that this is a dire situation, my dreaming persona is never panicked. In my dreams I never feel the desperation, although I am anxious. But, it is as though a part of me knows it is only a dream and that in the end I will wake up and all will be alright. Perhaps my sleeping brain remembers that I passed that exam 18 years ago (with flying colours).
What is so memorable, and fascinating, is the degree to which the unconscious mind believes it can overcome the hardship or the challenge in each case. In the dream I am committed to getting to that exam, to working, rushing, pushing on, striving to overcome the obstacles, never so deeply perturbed or worried that I give up. The dream usually ends before the exam is sat or the results handed out, but in those moments when one can cram, choose whether to attend the exam, consult the campus map or not (so as to find the right room), pack the pens, one does all of those things. Is this a reflection of a persevering personality or something else? Is it true of all of us - that we dream of possibilities, even if our conscious self would drop out of the race, give up, cry off?
Or is it that a some level we know it isn' real - that it is only a dream and no matter what happens we cannot fail?
Imagine living that way? Imagine believing you could never fail?
There are fleeting glimpses of this fearlessness in conscious life. Last night was the Off-Spring's school Dinner Dance and Auction fundraising event. As Chair of the PTA it fell to me to arrange and organise this event, with the help of a wonderful committee of mothers. Safe in the knowledge born from experience that the night could not be an unmitigated disaster but rather, some version of a success, I was quietly confident that it would all go well. I hoped we could match previous years' funds raised. If we could just create a nice atmosphere and a convivial evening of socialising and merriment, then we would have something to be proud of.
Well we did all of that. And we raised almost three times the average amount raised in past years. The school now has an even lovelier fund on which to draw for various initiatives for the children as well as much needed building restoration work. We were blessed to have received 30 donated items that were both sought after and valuable. We conjured up strong interest, we sold lots of tickets, we served delicious food, we were surrounded by generous and supportive parents. It was a great event. Every person who contributed to it in any way should feel proud to have been part of it.
Running a PTA is voluntary work, charitable giving, community work, if you like. Many of us do it or something like it at some point in our lives. Yet, I don't know why we do it. Some say that acts of giving make us happy. Some say that we do such things for recognition, or out of guilt or a sense of obligation. For some it is a way of giving back. For others it is to use skills that we might otherwise not have a chance to use during years of parenting or retirement or when we are not engaged in paid work. It may be to please someone, to impress or to persuade, to gain leverage or to buy good will, to learn something, or to teach something.
Whatever the reason, and there are a probably several in combination on any given day, we do it. Perhaps the why is not important, in the final analysis, but it weighs on my mind, for there is pressure to stay on for another year as Chair person. In order to decide whether to do so, understanding my rationale or purpose is important - at least to me.
Part of that means one has to working out why the silence from certain people in the face of a success hurts. One has to know one's limits, one's priorities, one's values. One has to be candid and authentic about how best one can play a role. One has to understand that whether one is motivated intrinsically or extrinsically, or perhaps both, one would not do it if one thought failure was possible.
Which leads one to value perhaps the best part of any challenge; the learning that goes on - particularly about oneself, but also about others. And the knowledge that there really is no failure, just opportunities to learn, to grow, to give (and to take) and above all, to wear a pretty dress now and then!
What is so memorable, and fascinating, is the degree to which the unconscious mind believes it can overcome the hardship or the challenge in each case. In the dream I am committed to getting to that exam, to working, rushing, pushing on, striving to overcome the obstacles, never so deeply perturbed or worried that I give up. The dream usually ends before the exam is sat or the results handed out, but in those moments when one can cram, choose whether to attend the exam, consult the campus map or not (so as to find the right room), pack the pens, one does all of those things. Is this a reflection of a persevering personality or something else? Is it true of all of us - that we dream of possibilities, even if our conscious self would drop out of the race, give up, cry off?
Or is it that a some level we know it isn' real - that it is only a dream and no matter what happens we cannot fail?
Imagine living that way? Imagine believing you could never fail?
There are fleeting glimpses of this fearlessness in conscious life. Last night was the Off-Spring's school Dinner Dance and Auction fundraising event. As Chair of the PTA it fell to me to arrange and organise this event, with the help of a wonderful committee of mothers. Safe in the knowledge born from experience that the night could not be an unmitigated disaster but rather, some version of a success, I was quietly confident that it would all go well. I hoped we could match previous years' funds raised. If we could just create a nice atmosphere and a convivial evening of socialising and merriment, then we would have something to be proud of.
Well we did all of that. And we raised almost three times the average amount raised in past years. The school now has an even lovelier fund on which to draw for various initiatives for the children as well as much needed building restoration work. We were blessed to have received 30 donated items that were both sought after and valuable. We conjured up strong interest, we sold lots of tickets, we served delicious food, we were surrounded by generous and supportive parents. It was a great event. Every person who contributed to it in any way should feel proud to have been part of it.
Running a PTA is voluntary work, charitable giving, community work, if you like. Many of us do it or something like it at some point in our lives. Yet, I don't know why we do it. Some say that acts of giving make us happy. Some say that we do such things for recognition, or out of guilt or a sense of obligation. For some it is a way of giving back. For others it is to use skills that we might otherwise not have a chance to use during years of parenting or retirement or when we are not engaged in paid work. It may be to please someone, to impress or to persuade, to gain leverage or to buy good will, to learn something, or to teach something.
Whatever the reason, and there are a probably several in combination on any given day, we do it. Perhaps the why is not important, in the final analysis, but it weighs on my mind, for there is pressure to stay on for another year as Chair person. In order to decide whether to do so, understanding my rationale or purpose is important - at least to me.
Part of that means one has to working out why the silence from certain people in the face of a success hurts. One has to know one's limits, one's priorities, one's values. One has to be candid and authentic about how best one can play a role. One has to understand that whether one is motivated intrinsically or extrinsically, or perhaps both, one would not do it if one thought failure was possible.
Which leads one to value perhaps the best part of any challenge; the learning that goes on - particularly about oneself, but also about others. And the knowledge that there really is no failure, just opportunities to learn, to grow, to give (and to take) and above all, to wear a pretty dress now and then!
May 2, 2011
Ordinary People
I promised that my next post would cover the Royal Wedding. Rather than disappoint you, I will deliver on my promise.
Here in London the magic was palpable that day. For the first time in several days the air was clear and cool. There was a cloudy sky, the first in weeks that morning, and the high pollen count had abated somewhat. Consequently for the thousands who descended on central London to catch a glimpse of the wedding party the atmosphere was very British - very Wimbledon - very amenable.
For me, a hayfever sufferer, the day could not have been more pleasant. Watching the wedding from home and then the gym, enjoying the company of my neighbours at the Royal Wedding garden party, feeling united with my English brethren in a proud and historic celebration of love, community, majesty and family.
But in hindsight I think the truly amazing thing about the event - and indeed - perhaps the reason for my malaise over the next three days - was the almost story book quality of perfection around the occasion (not unlike my own wedding day...). Everything was just lovely.
For me, the fact that someone really quite ordinary snared the future king of England is though, one of the most profound aspects of this happy tale. And by "ordinary" I do not mean "common" as the British press and establishment love to call her. Nor do I mean to be disparaging - for ordinary is truly what most of us are.
No - the really wonderful thing is that unlike so many elements of monarchy, this wedding seemed charmingly democratic and accessible. Kate, by all accounts, is a sensible and poised woman. Unlike some pundits and posters who have comments to make about make-up and social climbing, her weight and her hair, I really can find nothing to criticise her for. Isn't she the sort of girl one would have been friends with? The sort of girl one would like one's daughter to be? A nice, ordinary, straight forward, committed, dedicated, sweet person?
Ok, so those qualities may not be entirely "ordinary", after all, but I can't help wishing and hoping that they were or could be.
But the magic lies in the fact that this young couple are so discreet and polite and measured. Unlike the B and C grade celebrities (and A as well, let's be honest) that festoon the headlines most weeks, there is no controversy, no tawdry gossip, no drugs or indiscretions.
While they may be royalty the very fact that she shops on the high streets and does her own make-up and that he plays a little bit of football in the public park on the eve of his wedding, makes this couple, this very famous duo, breathtakingly regular and indeed - ordinary. She has worn the same thing more than once for the cameras!
This is not to say that their lives are ordinary, by any means. Nor is it to suggest that any ordinary Joe or Jane could or would swap places with them and assume their roles with even an iota of the dignity and aplomb with which they seem to carry off every public appearance.
All I mean is that it is refreshing and a little bit magical to witness a commitment and love outside one's circle of ordinary people that is just so nice and normal (despite the guest list and the budget for the wedding, the helicopter pickup the next day and the titles...).
The other thing that is so lovely and fresh, in this age where everyone has a website, a blog, a point of view, and in which so many mediocre and extraordinarily damaged and strange people harbour a yearning for fame and fortune, notoriety or celebrity, is that this couple to date has really said very little.
So yes, less is more. Silence is golden.
Here in London the magic was palpable that day. For the first time in several days the air was clear and cool. There was a cloudy sky, the first in weeks that morning, and the high pollen count had abated somewhat. Consequently for the thousands who descended on central London to catch a glimpse of the wedding party the atmosphere was very British - very Wimbledon - very amenable.
For me, a hayfever sufferer, the day could not have been more pleasant. Watching the wedding from home and then the gym, enjoying the company of my neighbours at the Royal Wedding garden party, feeling united with my English brethren in a proud and historic celebration of love, community, majesty and family.
But in hindsight I think the truly amazing thing about the event - and indeed - perhaps the reason for my malaise over the next three days - was the almost story book quality of perfection around the occasion (not unlike my own wedding day...). Everything was just lovely.
For me, the fact that someone really quite ordinary snared the future king of England is though, one of the most profound aspects of this happy tale. And by "ordinary" I do not mean "common" as the British press and establishment love to call her. Nor do I mean to be disparaging - for ordinary is truly what most of us are.
No - the really wonderful thing is that unlike so many elements of monarchy, this wedding seemed charmingly democratic and accessible. Kate, by all accounts, is a sensible and poised woman. Unlike some pundits and posters who have comments to make about make-up and social climbing, her weight and her hair, I really can find nothing to criticise her for. Isn't she the sort of girl one would have been friends with? The sort of girl one would like one's daughter to be? A nice, ordinary, straight forward, committed, dedicated, sweet person?
Ok, so those qualities may not be entirely "ordinary", after all, but I can't help wishing and hoping that they were or could be.
But the magic lies in the fact that this young couple are so discreet and polite and measured. Unlike the B and C grade celebrities (and A as well, let's be honest) that festoon the headlines most weeks, there is no controversy, no tawdry gossip, no drugs or indiscretions.
While they may be royalty the very fact that she shops on the high streets and does her own make-up and that he plays a little bit of football in the public park on the eve of his wedding, makes this couple, this very famous duo, breathtakingly regular and indeed - ordinary. She has worn the same thing more than once for the cameras!
This is not to say that their lives are ordinary, by any means. Nor is it to suggest that any ordinary Joe or Jane could or would swap places with them and assume their roles with even an iota of the dignity and aplomb with which they seem to carry off every public appearance.
All I mean is that it is refreshing and a little bit magical to witness a commitment and love outside one's circle of ordinary people that is just so nice and normal (despite the guest list and the budget for the wedding, the helicopter pickup the next day and the titles...).
The other thing that is so lovely and fresh, in this age where everyone has a website, a blog, a point of view, and in which so many mediocre and extraordinarily damaged and strange people harbour a yearning for fame and fortune, notoriety or celebrity, is that this couple to date has really said very little.
So yes, less is more. Silence is golden.
April 22, 2011
Easter's majesty
In case you were curious as to the sort of company you keep, my blog has 17 official followers. An average number of 15 "friends" on facebook read the facebook links to my blog each time I post one. My blog visitor counter stats say that between 35 and 45 people visit my blog most weeks - an average of 5-7 each day. That would lead me to think that around 30 people (in the world) read each of my posts. These people may differ, from post to post, of course.
Meanwhile about 78 people/organisations follow me on Twitter. I cannot seem to break through the 80 people milestone and stay there. I pass it every few days, only to find that a day later 2 or 3 followers have de-followed me. I wonder if this is a reflection on the quality of my tweets, my politics as reflected thereby or my failing to follow them back.
It's a fickle old world.
And if those amazing stats were not enough, did you know that an estimated1 billion people around the world will watch the coverage of the Royal Wedding next Friday (superbly timed as a morning event to allow for all the Anglophiles in the far flung reaches of the Commonwealth to tune in).
Of course, if I start tweeting about the Royal Wedding things may begin to look up for me...
.....
Instead, given today is Good Friday, I will post a few thoughts about this day.
Today is my favourite day of the year. Good Friday is a holiday here in England - from work anyway - if not shopping. The great thing about Good Friday - in most places I should think, is that the weather is good. None of the forced jollity under grey skies that is the English Christmas. Nor the stinking hot humidity of summer Christmases. April (or March) is generally mild and pleasant. But that is not why I love this holiday.
No the clincher is the reason for which we have this nice quiet long weekend - the weekend that never ends (especially when followed by the once in a generation treat of a Royal Wedding so soon after). Aside from the fact that I enjoy a holiday bereft of commercial pressure, I revel in the reminder of my humanity, the reminder that this weekend we remember that we are united in the pain and suffering of all people across the world and through the ages. Like Jesus, dying on the cross to complete his life on earth as a man, we all suffer. Today we remember the indignity, the shame, the humiliation, the self-sacrifice and the isolation that Jesus was subjected to, as a man. Most of us will face less than this, hopefully, in our lives. And yet, the fortitude and love with which Jesus faced this event, his passion and death, gives us all pause for thought - whether we believe in Him or not.
So I love this day. It is quiet, sombre, imbued with meaning. It helps me to be grateful for my good fortune. It helps me to pause and give thanks, to reflect on the suffering and hardship in the world around me. To contemplate those who suffer. To contemplate my own challenges and hardships with renewed courage and perspective.
And to look forward to a brighter day too and the triumph it will bring over evil, over pain and affliction.
.....
That was Easter Sunday by the way - not the Royal Wedding day...
However, on a brighter note, the Royal Wedding is certainly exciting us all here in London. Union Jacks adorn the pubs walls and windows of many proprietors. The news reports tragic events abroad, smog levels that are dangerously high in the city, and great April weather that is breaking all records. Best of all is the wedding news though.
I think my next post will analyse the event, if not from a pole position on the Mall or Whitehall (where I once worked) then from a community of pleasant Londoners sharing a Kensington garden square and throwing their own Royal Wedding Garden party next Friday.
Call me an opportunist if you like. I bet my blog's popularity surges!
Meanwhile about 78 people/organisations follow me on Twitter. I cannot seem to break through the 80 people milestone and stay there. I pass it every few days, only to find that a day later 2 or 3 followers have de-followed me. I wonder if this is a reflection on the quality of my tweets, my politics as reflected thereby or my failing to follow them back.
It's a fickle old world.
And if those amazing stats were not enough, did you know that an estimated1 billion people around the world will watch the coverage of the Royal Wedding next Friday (superbly timed as a morning event to allow for all the Anglophiles in the far flung reaches of the Commonwealth to tune in).
Of course, if I start tweeting about the Royal Wedding things may begin to look up for me...
.....
Instead, given today is Good Friday, I will post a few thoughts about this day.
Today is my favourite day of the year. Good Friday is a holiday here in England - from work anyway - if not shopping. The great thing about Good Friday - in most places I should think, is that the weather is good. None of the forced jollity under grey skies that is the English Christmas. Nor the stinking hot humidity of summer Christmases. April (or March) is generally mild and pleasant. But that is not why I love this holiday.
No the clincher is the reason for which we have this nice quiet long weekend - the weekend that never ends (especially when followed by the once in a generation treat of a Royal Wedding so soon after). Aside from the fact that I enjoy a holiday bereft of commercial pressure, I revel in the reminder of my humanity, the reminder that this weekend we remember that we are united in the pain and suffering of all people across the world and through the ages. Like Jesus, dying on the cross to complete his life on earth as a man, we all suffer. Today we remember the indignity, the shame, the humiliation, the self-sacrifice and the isolation that Jesus was subjected to, as a man. Most of us will face less than this, hopefully, in our lives. And yet, the fortitude and love with which Jesus faced this event, his passion and death, gives us all pause for thought - whether we believe in Him or not.
So I love this day. It is quiet, sombre, imbued with meaning. It helps me to be grateful for my good fortune. It helps me to pause and give thanks, to reflect on the suffering and hardship in the world around me. To contemplate those who suffer. To contemplate my own challenges and hardships with renewed courage and perspective.
And to look forward to a brighter day too and the triumph it will bring over evil, over pain and affliction.
.....
That was Easter Sunday by the way - not the Royal Wedding day...
However, on a brighter note, the Royal Wedding is certainly exciting us all here in London. Union Jacks adorn the pubs walls and windows of many proprietors. The news reports tragic events abroad, smog levels that are dangerously high in the city, and great April weather that is breaking all records. Best of all is the wedding news though.
I think my next post will analyse the event, if not from a pole position on the Mall or Whitehall (where I once worked) then from a community of pleasant Londoners sharing a Kensington garden square and throwing their own Royal Wedding Garden party next Friday.
Call me an opportunist if you like. I bet my blog's popularity surges!
April 14, 2011
Holiday entertainment? It's child's play.
Now that the holidays are upon us it is with joy and excitement that I read all the postings for parents about how to entertain the kids on vacation (since a book, a bike or the odd colouring session will not be enough).
This reminded me of a chapter in Spring to Mind in which I mused over the diversity and extent of kid-oriented activities and classes on offer these days. Rather than recast those thoughts here, I thought I would just extract them for you – whet your appetite as it were (mindful that sooner or later the whole book will be republished here for the 17 of you who bother to read this...).
"...I guess the current generation of under 10s is more driven and scheduled than we ever were. I remember pestering Mrs Off-Spring until I was blue in the face to be allowed to do ballet. Every time she said "next year", knowing I would outgrow the interest. No doubt also knowing it would not be one of my gifts. All those fat little girls in their tutus and slippers feeling so princessy and demure...
And I wound up with three sons...
Speaking of children's activities, I had occasion to wonder again whether I am raising backward neophytes, heralding form the 1970s rather than the 2000's. I overheard some mothers at the gym last week discussing their children's schedules. I mean, who under 25, who is not at least a management consultant, even has a schedule. These children have judo and swimming, French and art, ballet and chess, Spanish and music and cycling proficiency, drama and gymnastics. One child of our acquaintance has such a full week on school days that he has to do his Italian, pilates, rugby, mandarin and science on the weekend, between mass, swimming, lunch and 23.5 minutes free play. Something will have to give when the homework really starts, not to mention the boy scouts, altar serving and volunteerism.
I was really fascinated by the cycle proficiency class. I think I borrowed a bike from a kid up the road and rode around the cul-de-sac over two Sundays and became proficient that way in those heady, sepia days in the seventies. I was 8 and clearly under achieving since I was not at Cantonese or Pottery at the time, but actually had Sundays available...
Having said all of that, I am not scoffing at the desire to enrich and broaden and expose one's offspring. Goodness, no. There are clearly a few holes in the market though, which is where I need to step in. Just imagine if we could enhance skills in negotiation, face-to-face communications, street smarts, rapping, tidying up, pocket money budgeting and for the younger ones, bottom wiping. There is no doubt demand for maximising the effectiveness of the tantrum - a session on style, another on timing and another where we really hone in on more sophisticated manipulation.
Maybe I could offer sibling packages and cover all the age groups as well as the nitty gritty of sibling rivalry. I could really make a difference in the holiday camp market place.
And for the mums? And dads! Well I need to be pretty strategic about catching the interest in that discerning sector, but couples classes could work, or coffee mornings with a twist, where we workshop some issues of concern. Maybe a series of classes, free latte included in the fees. Topics could include:How to say "no" and mean it.I know my child is average and that's ok.How to dress you child for their body shape.Restaurant voices.Boundaries are cool.Play doesn't have to be hard work.
I could have fridge magnets made with little thoughts printed on them, so that whenever the parents glance at the activities schedule for the term or the good behaviour star chart upon which they would magnetically reside, they would be reminded of something useful, such as "if it walks and talks like a child, it must be a child".
My one-time nanny, Helga, was a big fan of the star chart. She was struggling to get the boys to do as she wanted so we decided the chart might incentivise better behaviour. It really needed to go in a spreadsheet – there was so much detail. There were at least 10 categories for each child, based on their age (then just 2, 4 and 6) and abilities. And it was a bugger to administer. For example, walking home from nursery, rather than riding on the buggy board, warranted a star. Eating with implements was rewarded with a star. And "please" and "thank you"? Yes - a star. Half the hoped for actions were already mastered and long since acquired habits; the other half were not desirable from any one's point of view; for example, chopping with Mummy's scissors.
One day Helga took me aside to say that she was very concerned about Off-Spring Number 1's maths skills? He was apparently unable – at age 5 - to do subtraction sums such as 15 takeaway 23 or 9 minus 17. I had to explain that the negative integers were possibly a little beyond the year ones just yet, maybe in second term. Fearful that we in the UK were backward and all of the ex-soviet Eastern European children are racing ahead (explains things like arms wars, if they can master the old trigonometry and trajectories early), I did explain that there are numbers less than zero and that they are useful for measuring things like temperatures. Also handy if you go under the sea and you want to work out your depth in relation to the surface of the water. He was able to then extrapolate the concept and suggest – "or like if someone is really naughty, they get a negative star on the chart".
Maybe Helga is on to something after all.
The learning for me, is that the real world context really aids with knowledge retention and learning. To that end, I was telling the Off-Spring about a time when I was about 9 and a strip of purple flowered wall paper was ripped off the toilet wall and Mrs Off-Spring had to employ strong arm tactics to break us down and force a confession out of us; culminating in my brother confessing in order to get our TV privileges restored.
This was by way of explaining the meaning of criminal investigation to the Off-Spring.
Anyway, the star chart was a little unwieldy. There were so many stars on that chart by the end of the first day that I started to fear that local stationery shops would be unable to keep up with demand. While well-intended, the chart was not capable of operating as an incentivisation programme at all. Maybe in communist regimes star charts operated differently. Certainly, the purpose behind Helga's was never clear. It did excite them as they begged for more and more multicoloured stars though, every evening. I still find one or two in the washing machine every now and then. And I think Helga probably enjoyed ruling all the lines and writing in all the boxes and sitting as judge and jury all afternoon. Star charts are generally baffling I find. The year one class chart a few years ago may have confused me. Miss Finucane explained it well though – Off-Spring Number 1 had very few stars because he was a quiet student who was no trouble and got on with his work beautifully. It seems then that I have had it all wrong. Maybe I need one myself."
.....
Now it was a couple of years ago, that I wrote that..
Things have changed in many ways since. For a start all of the Off-Spring developed cycle proficiency without lessons - in the old fashioned way - spurred on by each other and the neighbourhood children. I run classes for adults and children now. Communication and negotiation being just two skills we work on (listening and resilience and tolerance prove to be more urgent needs, actually). We have also abandoned star charts some time in the past two years in favour of a points system that allows for demerits as well as merits and which allows for the accumulation of points for behaviour going above and beyond the expected. It works very well. I am currently top of the leader board....
Should anyone like further particulars do drop me a line.
Best of all, developing, designing and implementing points systems and having the kids describe and present arguments in favour of their preferred one, is a great source of holiday amusement and entertainment. So too is Scrabble, my own favourite, "Writeathon" (to raise money for your school. favourite charity or cause or mother), or just taking it easy for the first time since New Year (the joys of which we will explore in the next post).
This reminded me of a chapter in Spring to Mind in which I mused over the diversity and extent of kid-oriented activities and classes on offer these days. Rather than recast those thoughts here, I thought I would just extract them for you – whet your appetite as it were (mindful that sooner or later the whole book will be republished here for the 17 of you who bother to read this...).
"...I guess the current generation of under 10s is more driven and scheduled than we ever were. I remember pestering Mrs Off-Spring until I was blue in the face to be allowed to do ballet. Every time she said "next year", knowing I would outgrow the interest. No doubt also knowing it would not be one of my gifts. All those fat little girls in their tutus and slippers feeling so princessy and demure...
And I wound up with three sons...
Speaking of children's activities, I had occasion to wonder again whether I am raising backward neophytes, heralding form the 1970s rather than the 2000's. I overheard some mothers at the gym last week discussing their children's schedules. I mean, who under 25, who is not at least a management consultant, even has a schedule. These children have judo and swimming, French and art, ballet and chess, Spanish and music and cycling proficiency, drama and gymnastics. One child of our acquaintance has such a full week on school days that he has to do his Italian, pilates, rugby, mandarin and science on the weekend, between mass, swimming, lunch and 23.5 minutes free play. Something will have to give when the homework really starts, not to mention the boy scouts, altar serving and volunteerism.
I was really fascinated by the cycle proficiency class. I think I borrowed a bike from a kid up the road and rode around the cul-de-sac over two Sundays and became proficient that way in those heady, sepia days in the seventies. I was 8 and clearly under achieving since I was not at Cantonese or Pottery at the time, but actually had Sundays available...
Having said all of that, I am not scoffing at the desire to enrich and broaden and expose one's offspring. Goodness, no. There are clearly a few holes in the market though, which is where I need to step in. Just imagine if we could enhance skills in negotiation, face-to-face communications, street smarts, rapping, tidying up, pocket money budgeting and for the younger ones, bottom wiping. There is no doubt demand for maximising the effectiveness of the tantrum - a session on style, another on timing and another where we really hone in on more sophisticated manipulation.
Maybe I could offer sibling packages and cover all the age groups as well as the nitty gritty of sibling rivalry. I could really make a difference in the holiday camp market place.
And for the mums? And dads! Well I need to be pretty strategic about catching the interest in that discerning sector, but couples classes could work, or coffee mornings with a twist, where we workshop some issues of concern. Maybe a series of classes, free latte included in the fees. Topics could include:How to say "no" and mean it.I know my child is average and that's ok.How to dress you child for their body shape.Restaurant voices.Boundaries are cool.Play doesn't have to be hard work.
I could have fridge magnets made with little thoughts printed on them, so that whenever the parents glance at the activities schedule for the term or the good behaviour star chart upon which they would magnetically reside, they would be reminded of something useful, such as "if it walks and talks like a child, it must be a child".
My one-time nanny, Helga, was a big fan of the star chart. She was struggling to get the boys to do as she wanted so we decided the chart might incentivise better behaviour. It really needed to go in a spreadsheet – there was so much detail. There were at least 10 categories for each child, based on their age (then just 2, 4 and 6) and abilities. And it was a bugger to administer. For example, walking home from nursery, rather than riding on the buggy board, warranted a star. Eating with implements was rewarded with a star. And "please" and "thank you"? Yes - a star. Half the hoped for actions were already mastered and long since acquired habits; the other half were not desirable from any one's point of view; for example, chopping with Mummy's scissors.
One day Helga took me aside to say that she was very concerned about Off-Spring Number 1's maths skills? He was apparently unable – at age 5 - to do subtraction sums such as 15 takeaway 23 or 9 minus 17. I had to explain that the negative integers were possibly a little beyond the year ones just yet, maybe in second term. Fearful that we in the UK were backward and all of the ex-soviet Eastern European children are racing ahead (explains things like arms wars, if they can master the old trigonometry and trajectories early), I did explain that there are numbers less than zero and that they are useful for measuring things like temperatures. Also handy if you go under the sea and you want to work out your depth in relation to the surface of the water. He was able to then extrapolate the concept and suggest – "or like if someone is really naughty, they get a negative star on the chart".
Maybe Helga is on to something after all.
The learning for me, is that the real world context really aids with knowledge retention and learning. To that end, I was telling the Off-Spring about a time when I was about 9 and a strip of purple flowered wall paper was ripped off the toilet wall and Mrs Off-Spring had to employ strong arm tactics to break us down and force a confession out of us; culminating in my brother confessing in order to get our TV privileges restored.
This was by way of explaining the meaning of criminal investigation to the Off-Spring.
Anyway, the star chart was a little unwieldy. There were so many stars on that chart by the end of the first day that I started to fear that local stationery shops would be unable to keep up with demand. While well-intended, the chart was not capable of operating as an incentivisation programme at all. Maybe in communist regimes star charts operated differently. Certainly, the purpose behind Helga's was never clear. It did excite them as they begged for more and more multicoloured stars though, every evening. I still find one or two in the washing machine every now and then. And I think Helga probably enjoyed ruling all the lines and writing in all the boxes and sitting as judge and jury all afternoon. Star charts are generally baffling I find. The year one class chart a few years ago may have confused me. Miss Finucane explained it well though – Off-Spring Number 1 had very few stars because he was a quiet student who was no trouble and got on with his work beautifully. It seems then that I have had it all wrong. Maybe I need one myself."
.....
Now it was a couple of years ago, that I wrote that..
Things have changed in many ways since. For a start all of the Off-Spring developed cycle proficiency without lessons - in the old fashioned way - spurred on by each other and the neighbourhood children. I run classes for adults and children now. Communication and negotiation being just two skills we work on (listening and resilience and tolerance prove to be more urgent needs, actually). We have also abandoned star charts some time in the past two years in favour of a points system that allows for demerits as well as merits and which allows for the accumulation of points for behaviour going above and beyond the expected. It works very well. I am currently top of the leader board....
Should anyone like further particulars do drop me a line.
Best of all, developing, designing and implementing points systems and having the kids describe and present arguments in favour of their preferred one, is a great source of holiday amusement and entertainment. So too is Scrabble, my own favourite, "Writeathon" (to raise money for your school. favourite charity or cause or mother), or just taking it easy for the first time since New Year (the joys of which we will explore in the next post).
April 13, 2011
Love is in the air...
They say in Spring that love is in the air. I haven't seen much of it this year, I have to say, but I suppose the hoopla and excitement surrounding the imminent Royal Wedding is so grand and all-encompassing as to be sufficient for all of us. Thankfully.
I read with interest a headline in a tabloid yesterday concerning a "new slimline Kate". I was not sure to whom the article referred at first. Kate was once Kate Winslett. Or God forbid, Katie Price. Say no more.
Imagine my surprise to discover that they were referring to none other than Kate Middleton. Seriously, was she ever anything but slim? Guess what - a "femail" journalist wrote the article and managed to find an 8 year old picture of Kate looking slightly more puffy in the face - ie glowing with teenage good health. A page was thus filled with pathetic drivel about brides and nerves and weightloss and slimness generally. Poor Kate. As if she did not have enough on her very royal and gilt-edged plate.
What could be worse than being compared for ever to the mother-in-law you never knew? Having your clothes, body and hair commented on for the rest of your life, I should imagine. Still, married to a prince, there may be some compensations. Well I should hope so.
Meanwhile the Telegraph, inspired by Wills' and Kate's example, extols the virtues of inviting some "exes" to your nuptials. How many exes can a couple of twenty somethings who met in college have? I ask. But I am a tad old fashioned, I grant you. Westminster Abbey is a bloody big church. I'd have found a few exes too if I had been tying the knot there with an unlimited budget and a public holiday for the nation as well. And let's not forget that the All Black Captain graciously declined an invite - being too busy winning world cups or some such macho nonsense...
The things is, they are a lovely young couple. They are lifting all our spirits. Kate's outfits are super. Who cares whether she has the style of Moss or the panache of Blanchett. One day she will be queen and clothes will not be her only claim to fame.
Mind you, my dear friend Mara, in Australia, has asked for as much Royal Wedding Memorabilia as I can get my hands on. Tea towels especially. Goodness, where does one shop for that sort of thing. The online business ideas are almost overwhelming... I have visions of myself queuing alongside various women of a certain age in Home Counties towns. And those coffee/tea cups that are too hot to hold, and some of those layered cake plates. No doubt a very big hit at the next charity morning tea in suburban Brisbane.
Despite the general excitement - street parties (or in our case a garden party, with scones, tea cake, sandwiches and bunting) and lining the route of royal carriages aside - I have to admit that explaining the idea of a monarchy to the Off-Spring was not easy. The idea that nice, normal people more or less like us, are born into the role of king, or queen, was not easy to justify. It was particularly difficult to explain why Prince Philip is not a King. The relevant rules reflecting an attitude so antiquated and sexist as to be almost anachronistic in today's society - or so I tell myself, until I read that outfits, weight and hair styles trump intellect, ideas and gravitas, anyway, as far as women are concerned.
And yet, I read that Bridget Jones and Carrie Bradshaw have no place in the lives of twenty somethings, whose ambitions run to intellectual self-improvement, rather than securing husbands. Elsewhere that same group classes parenting as more important than the relationship they might have with a romantic partner.
Isn't slimline Kate in that group?
It's very confusing. I can think of many women over 35 who share these views, to a person, and yet...
So I can only think that it's all posturing, no?
Love is a timeless commodity. We'll take what we can get, within reason. But, we'll fight for a career as well. Til biology gets in the way and the good old employer can't manage the whole part-time equation...
At the end of the day, people are people. This generation will have different challenges and opportunities from those that came before, but at a fundamental level, we are still the same - keen to hear about happy endings, hoping for the best, wondering "what if", dreaming and aspiring, and in the Spring - overjoyed to know that for some - Love is in the air.
And that is just as well, for the pollen count is high.
I read with interest a headline in a tabloid yesterday concerning a "new slimline Kate". I was not sure to whom the article referred at first. Kate was once Kate Winslett. Or God forbid, Katie Price. Say no more.
Imagine my surprise to discover that they were referring to none other than Kate Middleton. Seriously, was she ever anything but slim? Guess what - a "femail" journalist wrote the article and managed to find an 8 year old picture of Kate looking slightly more puffy in the face - ie glowing with teenage good health. A page was thus filled with pathetic drivel about brides and nerves and weightloss and slimness generally. Poor Kate. As if she did not have enough on her very royal and gilt-edged plate.
What could be worse than being compared for ever to the mother-in-law you never knew? Having your clothes, body and hair commented on for the rest of your life, I should imagine. Still, married to a prince, there may be some compensations. Well I should hope so.
Meanwhile the Telegraph, inspired by Wills' and Kate's example, extols the virtues of inviting some "exes" to your nuptials. How many exes can a couple of twenty somethings who met in college have? I ask. But I am a tad old fashioned, I grant you. Westminster Abbey is a bloody big church. I'd have found a few exes too if I had been tying the knot there with an unlimited budget and a public holiday for the nation as well. And let's not forget that the All Black Captain graciously declined an invite - being too busy winning world cups or some such macho nonsense...
The things is, they are a lovely young couple. They are lifting all our spirits. Kate's outfits are super. Who cares whether she has the style of Moss or the panache of Blanchett. One day she will be queen and clothes will not be her only claim to fame.
Mind you, my dear friend Mara, in Australia, has asked for as much Royal Wedding Memorabilia as I can get my hands on. Tea towels especially. Goodness, where does one shop for that sort of thing. The online business ideas are almost overwhelming... I have visions of myself queuing alongside various women of a certain age in Home Counties towns. And those coffee/tea cups that are too hot to hold, and some of those layered cake plates. No doubt a very big hit at the next charity morning tea in suburban Brisbane.
Despite the general excitement - street parties (or in our case a garden party, with scones, tea cake, sandwiches and bunting) and lining the route of royal carriages aside - I have to admit that explaining the idea of a monarchy to the Off-Spring was not easy. The idea that nice, normal people more or less like us, are born into the role of king, or queen, was not easy to justify. It was particularly difficult to explain why Prince Philip is not a King. The relevant rules reflecting an attitude so antiquated and sexist as to be almost anachronistic in today's society - or so I tell myself, until I read that outfits, weight and hair styles trump intellect, ideas and gravitas, anyway, as far as women are concerned.
And yet, I read that Bridget Jones and Carrie Bradshaw have no place in the lives of twenty somethings, whose ambitions run to intellectual self-improvement, rather than securing husbands. Elsewhere that same group classes parenting as more important than the relationship they might have with a romantic partner.
Isn't slimline Kate in that group?
It's very confusing. I can think of many women over 35 who share these views, to a person, and yet...
So I can only think that it's all posturing, no?
Love is a timeless commodity. We'll take what we can get, within reason. But, we'll fight for a career as well. Til biology gets in the way and the good old employer can't manage the whole part-time equation...
At the end of the day, people are people. This generation will have different challenges and opportunities from those that came before, but at a fundamental level, we are still the same - keen to hear about happy endings, hoping for the best, wondering "what if", dreaming and aspiring, and in the Spring - overjoyed to know that for some - Love is in the air.
And that is just as well, for the pollen count is high.
April 10, 2011
Well Beings
There was a time when one you would pick up a newspaper or magazine and be inundated with stories, gossip and news about celebrities and diets, romance and shoes. These topics are still of great moment, of course, but they are buried now. Not in the women's glossies, I grant you. After all, that stuff sells. It's timeless, riveting and very important. But, in the mainstream press the trend has shifted subtly in these recession and budget cutting days to focus less on the acquisition of stuff, luxury holidays and the wanton consumption and disposal of more, towards other issues; war, tsunamis and economic strife of course, but on ubiquitous "Lifestyle" pages, the emphasis is shifting from diets to domesticity, from hedonism to happiness, from making more money to making more out of less.
There is even a trend that suggests that well-being is more than just having good hair, heels and handbags.
This is great. The Zeitgeist is for once simpatico with my own interests and beliefs. The last time that happened I was perhaps 8 and my interests were the Brady Bunch, Gilligan's Island, Holly Hobby and tennis...
Anyway, perhaps in terms of column space and words printed nothing is very different, but they say one notices what one is noticing - and on that basis it seems every man, woman and their dog is jumping on the happiness bandwagon.
Google it and see.
Three years ago when I began running workshops for professionals in transition aimed at helping them identify and play to their strengths, align their values and interests with their work and hopefully achieve a greater sense of purpose and happiness, I coined the phrase "Spring to Mind Spa". Thinking I was onto something I even bandied the word around in the City. Then I waited for the in-house bookings to overwhelm me.
I admit, I am still waiting.
You see, the key selling point of coaching or learning interventions had to be geared around success and helping clients to meet their potential. Senior, successful and respected coaches advised me not to use words like well-being or happiness in pitching to law firms or corporate clients - to be sure to leave such concepts strictly to the new age life coaches working in the suburbs or the communes, the retreats or the workshops for crystal loving pottery and bead types. Wake up Springgirl, executives and their employers do not need, want or care about happiness and well-being! You will not win business if you even mention the word "spa" at work!
Now, not so much. Times are changing. Pay freezes, unemployment, price rises, middles class families who thought three holidays a year and private school was their entitlement, are forced to move house to access state schools. Over the long, usually not very hot summer we now learn the tedium/beauty of the "staycation". Just as well we have a government that propounds a "Big Society", eh. Though just who will wind up footing the bill for housing, illness and education is anyone's guess.
So there was never a better time to champion the virtues of simple living, a sense of community, altruism, spending less. It's just as well money cannot buy happiness, 'cos there isn't any money to spend.
Employee wellness is not a strange idea. Indeed in the US tax incentives help to bring the idea to the threshholds of many small and medium size businesses. The US?!
One day the weird and crazy notion that a happy and engaged person is also a productive person may take root.
That day is coming. Watch this space!
Check out these resources if happiness and well-being are of interest to you:
http://www.psychologytoday.com/basics/happiness
http://www.happiness.com/
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/programmes/happiness_formula/default.stm
http://www.authentichappiness.sas.upenn.edu/Default.aspx
http://www.happiness-project.com/
There is even a trend that suggests that well-being is more than just having good hair, heels and handbags.
This is great. The Zeitgeist is for once simpatico with my own interests and beliefs. The last time that happened I was perhaps 8 and my interests were the Brady Bunch, Gilligan's Island, Holly Hobby and tennis...
Anyway, perhaps in terms of column space and words printed nothing is very different, but they say one notices what one is noticing - and on that basis it seems every man, woman and their dog is jumping on the happiness bandwagon.
Google it and see.
Three years ago when I began running workshops for professionals in transition aimed at helping them identify and play to their strengths, align their values and interests with their work and hopefully achieve a greater sense of purpose and happiness, I coined the phrase "Spring to Mind Spa". Thinking I was onto something I even bandied the word around in the City. Then I waited for the in-house bookings to overwhelm me.
I admit, I am still waiting.
You see, the key selling point of coaching or learning interventions had to be geared around success and helping clients to meet their potential. Senior, successful and respected coaches advised me not to use words like well-being or happiness in pitching to law firms or corporate clients - to be sure to leave such concepts strictly to the new age life coaches working in the suburbs or the communes, the retreats or the workshops for crystal loving pottery and bead types. Wake up Springgirl, executives and their employers do not need, want or care about happiness and well-being! You will not win business if you even mention the word "spa" at work!
Now, not so much. Times are changing. Pay freezes, unemployment, price rises, middles class families who thought three holidays a year and private school was their entitlement, are forced to move house to access state schools. Over the long, usually not very hot summer we now learn the tedium/beauty of the "staycation". Just as well we have a government that propounds a "Big Society", eh. Though just who will wind up footing the bill for housing, illness and education is anyone's guess.
So there was never a better time to champion the virtues of simple living, a sense of community, altruism, spending less. It's just as well money cannot buy happiness, 'cos there isn't any money to spend.
Employee wellness is not a strange idea. Indeed in the US tax incentives help to bring the idea to the threshholds of many small and medium size businesses. The US?!
One day the weird and crazy notion that a happy and engaged person is also a productive person may take root.
That day is coming. Watch this space!
Check out these resources if happiness and well-being are of interest to you:
http://www.psychologytoday.com/basics/happiness
http://www.happiness.com/
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/programmes/happiness_formula/default.stm
http://www.authentichappiness.sas.upenn.edu/Default.aspx
http://www.happiness-project.com/
April 6, 2011
Stocktake and samples
I recently came across a discussion in a Linked In Group that I belong to, about marketing one's books, and the importance of blogging and social media for generating a followership and book sales. The accepted wisdom is that authors need to tempt readers with snippets of their work, samples of their style and tidbits of wisdom and perspective. I've been doing that for a year now - sales are steady - but I need to put more out there, clearly.
A bit like those little plastic trays and faux forks set up in the supermarket to lure us into making different and unexpectedly satisfying purchasing decisions. I was in my local Waitrose just yesterday and I witnessed the very savvy and well-engineered process of determining what to offer for sample and tasting that afternoon. Setting - toilet paper aisle as three members of staff chatted about the weather and the display. The discussion went as follows:
Slim Attractive Female in Management Role (Manager): "Oh and we should do a tasting today. What do you think?"Young Partner (this means shop boy in other stores): "Yes, let's do one. What will we be sampling?"Older Partner (another young man): "Fruit, maybe. Or crisps?" (Obviously someone was a bit peckish...)Manager: "Yes, there are some fruits out the back near the bins that taste a bit weird. We could chop them up and put them out."Young Partner: "Yes. I know the ones you mean. They taste sort of sweet and also a bit bitter."Older Partner: Grinning, snickers. Manager: "Seriously. Sweet and bitter at the same time?"Young Partner: "Yes, exactly. People should taste it."Manager: "Maybe something else."Older Partner: "Ice-cream? The weather is good today."They walk to fridge area. I follow.Manager: "I know - the Creme Egg ice-cream. Put some of that out. It's a new line. Looks disgusting."Young Partner and Older Partner: Grimacing. "Maybe not...".I grimace too.
Why don't they put out some exquisite chocolate truffles, I thought? Some organic biscotti? Some ripe and juicy berries? Some gourmet cheese (not yet past it's use by date)?
Truth is - the episode burst my bubble. And it is strange that I have a bubble with regards retail. I worked for a retail chain at one time. My skills were diverse - I mastered the cash registers, the photo development suite/lab, the kitchenware and lighting departments and even (due to my close friend being a fixture in DIY) paint mixing and gardening. And you only need read a few of my posts to see how much I love dealing with the general public. I know about waste, shrinkage, theft and bag checks, ugly uniforms and the tension between the full time day staff and the casual student staff. Nevertheless the idea that only the disgusting, hard to sell stuff would be displayed for taste testing and sampling never occurred to me...
Suffice to say I will never try another orange kiwi fruit dipped in soya something or other in Tesco again!
I'm losing my touch.
Nevertheless, I think the book publishing forum had other things in mind. In tempting readers to buy my books I can see that it is self-defeating to only reveal my disgusting or less delectable prose. By the same token, I don't want to reward the cheapskates who don't want to buy a book with my best work either...
Though, I can admit to having written plenty of things that are bitter and sweet...
It's tricky. I can see the conundrum. One can hardly ask shoppers to try the toilet paper before buying it, but French Champagne may be overdoing it. Hence the 10 minute discussion in Waitrose. I pictured similar dialogues across the globe, each day. It was sobering.
So in order to tempt you to buy my books, contact me for some coaching or just mention me in casual conversation at the water cooler, the gym or your next supper club gathering, I give you an except from Spring to Mind's Self Coaching Toolkit. This is one of three stocktake exercises to help you assess where you are in your life. Don't worry, it's not too confronting, won't take long and won't necessitate any change, commitments or expenditure on your part. You may need a scrap of paper though.
I will tell you now that I have taken this exercise myself. I drew a cloud. And my film is "Chocolat".
Stocktake - Exercise 2 (Extracted from Spring to Mind - Self Coaching Toolkit)If you:a) Hate questionnaires and quizzes;b) Refuse to write down your feelings and thoughts;c) Resent being held accountable; d) Got nothing out of Exercise 1; ore) Tend to buck the system, pooh-pooh authority and disdain order and structure;then this exercise may be useful for you.Describe in as few words as possible how you feel about your life.
List at least two things you enjoy or like about your life right now. What do you have or what do you do that gives you happiness?
List at least two things you enjoy or like least right now.
List at least two things you would like more of or to do more often.
If the writing is getting you down, why don't you try to draw the feeling you have about your life right now. If you could, what would the picture show?
Pictures paint a thousand words... come on.
Ok, fine. Can you describe this feeling in terms of a film (or a book) you are familiar with?Here are some ideas to help you:Forrest Gump (you never know what you will get)The Godfather (your family runs your life and you feel death is imminent)27 Dresses (always the bridesmaid never the bride)Wall Street (greed is good)The Man who Knew too Much (busybody gets comeuppance)Fight Club (weird hobbies keeping you away from real world)Clueless (at any level)Gladiator (warrior, hero, fighter, death defying maverick – to a point) Knocked up (say no more)Unforgiven (speaks for itself)The Great Escape (so now what?)The Mirror Cracked (time for a new look) Enemy of the State (on the run, alone)Sex and the City (it's all about the shopping and the men)The Good Girl (no fun)Alice in Wonderland (no idea where you are)Le Divorce (it sounds better in French)Liar Liar (you or someone you know)The Mummy (not yet dead)An Inconvenient Truth (so what are your options)A Bug's Life (oohhhh...)Hair (really?)Friends with Money (must you keep up)So? Name a film or book:
Ok. Hopefully you now have a better handle on how you feel.
List anything good, satisfying or positive in your sense of where you are.
List what you would like to change?
.....
Anything? Sweet? Bitter? Disgusting? Sickening? Tasteless? Pointless?
Well, it was your life so ....
A bit like those little plastic trays and faux forks set up in the supermarket to lure us into making different and unexpectedly satisfying purchasing decisions. I was in my local Waitrose just yesterday and I witnessed the very savvy and well-engineered process of determining what to offer for sample and tasting that afternoon. Setting - toilet paper aisle as three members of staff chatted about the weather and the display. The discussion went as follows:
Slim Attractive Female in Management Role (Manager): "Oh and we should do a tasting today. What do you think?"Young Partner (this means shop boy in other stores): "Yes, let's do one. What will we be sampling?"Older Partner (another young man): "Fruit, maybe. Or crisps?" (Obviously someone was a bit peckish...)Manager: "Yes, there are some fruits out the back near the bins that taste a bit weird. We could chop them up and put them out."Young Partner: "Yes. I know the ones you mean. They taste sort of sweet and also a bit bitter."Older Partner: Grinning, snickers. Manager: "Seriously. Sweet and bitter at the same time?"Young Partner: "Yes, exactly. People should taste it."Manager: "Maybe something else."Older Partner: "Ice-cream? The weather is good today."They walk to fridge area. I follow.Manager: "I know - the Creme Egg ice-cream. Put some of that out. It's a new line. Looks disgusting."Young Partner and Older Partner: Grimacing. "Maybe not...".I grimace too.
Why don't they put out some exquisite chocolate truffles, I thought? Some organic biscotti? Some ripe and juicy berries? Some gourmet cheese (not yet past it's use by date)?
Truth is - the episode burst my bubble. And it is strange that I have a bubble with regards retail. I worked for a retail chain at one time. My skills were diverse - I mastered the cash registers, the photo development suite/lab, the kitchenware and lighting departments and even (due to my close friend being a fixture in DIY) paint mixing and gardening. And you only need read a few of my posts to see how much I love dealing with the general public. I know about waste, shrinkage, theft and bag checks, ugly uniforms and the tension between the full time day staff and the casual student staff. Nevertheless the idea that only the disgusting, hard to sell stuff would be displayed for taste testing and sampling never occurred to me...
Suffice to say I will never try another orange kiwi fruit dipped in soya something or other in Tesco again!
I'm losing my touch.
Nevertheless, I think the book publishing forum had other things in mind. In tempting readers to buy my books I can see that it is self-defeating to only reveal my disgusting or less delectable prose. By the same token, I don't want to reward the cheapskates who don't want to buy a book with my best work either...
Though, I can admit to having written plenty of things that are bitter and sweet...
It's tricky. I can see the conundrum. One can hardly ask shoppers to try the toilet paper before buying it, but French Champagne may be overdoing it. Hence the 10 minute discussion in Waitrose. I pictured similar dialogues across the globe, each day. It was sobering.
So in order to tempt you to buy my books, contact me for some coaching or just mention me in casual conversation at the water cooler, the gym or your next supper club gathering, I give you an except from Spring to Mind's Self Coaching Toolkit. This is one of three stocktake exercises to help you assess where you are in your life. Don't worry, it's not too confronting, won't take long and won't necessitate any change, commitments or expenditure on your part. You may need a scrap of paper though.
I will tell you now that I have taken this exercise myself. I drew a cloud. And my film is "Chocolat".
Stocktake - Exercise 2 (Extracted from Spring to Mind - Self Coaching Toolkit)If you:a) Hate questionnaires and quizzes;b) Refuse to write down your feelings and thoughts;c) Resent being held accountable; d) Got nothing out of Exercise 1; ore) Tend to buck the system, pooh-pooh authority and disdain order and structure;then this exercise may be useful for you.Describe in as few words as possible how you feel about your life.
List at least two things you enjoy or like about your life right now. What do you have or what do you do that gives you happiness?
List at least two things you enjoy or like least right now.
List at least two things you would like more of or to do more often.
If the writing is getting you down, why don't you try to draw the feeling you have about your life right now. If you could, what would the picture show?
Pictures paint a thousand words... come on.
Ok, fine. Can you describe this feeling in terms of a film (or a book) you are familiar with?Here are some ideas to help you:Forrest Gump (you never know what you will get)The Godfather (your family runs your life and you feel death is imminent)27 Dresses (always the bridesmaid never the bride)Wall Street (greed is good)The Man who Knew too Much (busybody gets comeuppance)Fight Club (weird hobbies keeping you away from real world)Clueless (at any level)Gladiator (warrior, hero, fighter, death defying maverick – to a point) Knocked up (say no more)Unforgiven (speaks for itself)The Great Escape (so now what?)The Mirror Cracked (time for a new look) Enemy of the State (on the run, alone)Sex and the City (it's all about the shopping and the men)The Good Girl (no fun)Alice in Wonderland (no idea where you are)Le Divorce (it sounds better in French)Liar Liar (you or someone you know)The Mummy (not yet dead)An Inconvenient Truth (so what are your options)A Bug's Life (oohhhh...)Hair (really?)Friends with Money (must you keep up)So? Name a film or book:
Ok. Hopefully you now have a better handle on how you feel.
List anything good, satisfying or positive in your sense of where you are.
List what you would like to change?
.....
Anything? Sweet? Bitter? Disgusting? Sickening? Tasteless? Pointless?
Well, it was your life so ....
March 31, 2011
Happy Mothers Day
This weekend in the UK we recognise ("celebrate" may be over-stating things a little) Mother's Day.
Mothers can put their feet up for a day while Dad and the kids take care of them - bringing them breakfast in bed and little pink trinkets, flowers, a restaurant lunch perhaps. So lovely.
I'm really looking forward to it. Especially since Saturday will be so busy - preparing. I will have to organise the Off-Spring to make their cards for me while I clean the house for Sunday's guests, then bake some tea-time treats, replace the broken vase in case anyone buys flowers for me and best of all, guide the Off-Spring away from the kiddie soaps and towards the chocolate/wine or books, in the local Waitrose as they search, my money in hand, for the perfect treat for Mummy. Then after long deliberations and purchases, which will serve to fray the nerves and delay the exit from the store, we will all grow more tired and more fretful (after a big week at school) and enjoy one of those walks home, replete with bickering and whining along the lines of "his gift is better" and "he always copies me" and "can we open it now and have some?" and "I can't walk another step" and "it's not fair, why are you so mean Mummy?".
What's there not to love about Mother's Day?
Maybe I'm building it up too much. After all, last year's passed without event. I have absolutely no recollection of what happened...
No - none at all.
I do remember the Australian Mother's Day last year which is observed in May. What a morbid and lonely day. I spent it with the delightful Off-Spring contemplating my dear mother (Mrs Springgirl) who died just three days after Mother's Day in 2009. Poignant and sorrowful is about all I can say for it.
....
The truth is that I personally derive minimal pleasure from these socially appointed celebrations. Perhaps I'm a miserable kill-joy or a cynic.
No - I definitely am a miserable kill-joy and a cynic, but nevertheless, the pink trinkets and the crumbs in the bed really don't mean that much to me.
Admittedly, the special displays at the supermarket are very pretty and quite irresistible. Pastel marshmallows and Turkish Delight so temptingly offered to us (as if we would ever buy this for ourselves or our mothers on any day of the year), to tantalise us as we queue with our too-heavy baskets and to tug at our consciences as we finally reach the cashier and remember amidst all the other detritus cluttering our weary brains, that our mothers-in-law do like rosewater, don't they, and hadn't we better get a box just in case, ooh and a card, since Fred/Hank/Jim/Ian never remembers these things...
And where would we be without those displays, the full-page ads in the paper and the catchy jingles on the radio? We could hardly be expected to come up with a gift idea without them, given our mothers are such strange and unfamiliar creatures whose actual tastes and preferences are so mysterious and hidden. The safe (and sage) option is to buy pink and purple cards, sickly sweets and flowered coffee cups, little floral tea towels and bouquets of flowers for these most strange, yet cherished of people.
Any excuse to spend a little money eh?
Some of you may wonder why I am so ambivalent - even negative - about Mother's Day. Let me assure you that I know all the tried and tested rationales for these special days.
They just don't resonate with me. Here is why:
1. I am tired of being told what to think, buy and feel by the stores, the media and the pundits. I am weary of being guided in all of my choices by what B-list Celebrity-So-and-So will be doing, wearing or eating this Sunday.
2. I rail against commercially motivated contrivances conceived to remind us not to take our loved one's for granted. The truth is that no matter what we say or spend once or twice a year, we do, and always will, take our mothers for granted. It's human nature to take the good things for granted. Not wilfully or maliciously; it's just how we are. Mothers, fathers too, our friends, our health, our good fortune, good weather, employment, safety, clean water. One day devoted to mothers/fathers will not change that.
3. What about all the others whose contributions go unacknowledged? Those who do not have a "Day"? The unsung heroes? Mothers are just the tip of an immense iceberg made up of all those who carry the community - fathers (they have a day and various other perks, admittedly), teachers (despite great holidays), soldiers (some travel hardly makes up for death, mutilation and poor sanitation), nurses, scientists, rubbish collectors, cleaners and those lorry drivers tirelessly bringing all the pink treats to the high street for us?
Where is the day for all of these people?
4. To spoil us one day a year is ultimately, unkind, inhumane. Like the last meal for the condemned man? For those mothers who do get a treat or a spoiling - some time out, a chance to relax or to be freed from the chores or the responsibility - the fall back down to earth the next day, week, month can be harsh. While it keeps the day itself special, of course, a thing to be longed for or savoured, it is not a kindness, in the long run.
5. Despite point 2 above, despite the fact that we feel we are not acknowledged enough, feel neglected sometimes, long for peace, uninterrupted sleep or quality alone time, a day for mothers is unnecessary. Because every day is mother's day.
Every day that they smile back, say thank you nicely and go to bed on time, is mother's day. Every day that they offer to help around the house, beg us to come to school and see their play, read them a story or play a game with them, is mother's day. Every day that they rush to greet us, ask our advice, roll their eyes at said advice or tell us dinner was disgusting - is mother's day. Every time we wave them goodbye and sigh with relief when they come back, is mother's day. Amidst the joy, frustration, pain, worry, heartache and despair that goes with motherhood, not a day goes by without a reminder of the love that they feel for us, of the love we feel for our own mothers, and perhaps most meaningfully, of the love we feel for our children. A virtuous circle.
So - Mother's Day is not my cup of tea (-in-bed-with-toast).
Thankfully, it's only one day. I'll survive.
.....
On a lighter note I am congratulating myself on being a very good mother this week.
For this week I learnt that:
a) Working mothers in the UK spend 81 minutes a day looking after their children and
b) Non-working mothers in the UK average 2 hours 35 minutes directly caring for their children each day.
In the world of competitive mothering we all know that any information that validates or vindicates choices to work or not to work are like manna from Heaven, so thanks to the OECD for commissioning this important survey.
But the results seem flawed. Is it just me or are these figures very low? For working and non-working women alike! Where on earth are the kids the other 21- 22 hours of the day?
Of course I have done a back of the envelope calculation. I think it only right to aggregate my totals (i.e. times by 3) in relation to each of the Off-Spring.
Now I should preface my comments by saying that I was (and at heart remain) a tax lawyer, so pedantically allocating time to activities is my bread and butter. Accordingly, I have reached a somewhat higher figure of 48.38 hours/day which reflects what I consider to be "directly caring" for my children - namely:
shopping for their meals, cooking,washing, ironing, cleaning, tidying, arranging their social and extra-curricular activities, attending meetings at school, Googling their foibles, leafing through Mini-Boden Catalogues, listening to other mothers talk about their kids,scraping uneaten food slops off the floor,running the PTA (this is a quiet period which may skew my final tally and does not take into account extraordinary events such as bake sales, fundraisers or big school gate gossip sessions...),planning what to wear on the school run,going on the school run,talking to, bathing, feeding, playing and reading with the children,thinking/worrying about some aspect of their lives or development (lawyers customarily bill for thinking time).But all of that is beside the real point - which was the third Big Thing I learnt this week.
According to the FAST programme of parenting - 15 quality minutes a day for each child should just about do it (after a few weeks one can build up to more, apparently).
So reconciling the data - it seems that most of the guilt and angst mothers feel is unnecessary provided 15 minutes of the 81 (or 48 hours) is "quality" time.
I am so happy because let me assure you that my tidying, Googling, worrying and direct play are all very high quality! In fact this blog post has taken almost 115 minutes...
So where am I now?
Celebrating motherhood, of course!
Just don't get me started on Valentine's Day or Halloween.
Mothers can put their feet up for a day while Dad and the kids take care of them - bringing them breakfast in bed and little pink trinkets, flowers, a restaurant lunch perhaps. So lovely.
I'm really looking forward to it. Especially since Saturday will be so busy - preparing. I will have to organise the Off-Spring to make their cards for me while I clean the house for Sunday's guests, then bake some tea-time treats, replace the broken vase in case anyone buys flowers for me and best of all, guide the Off-Spring away from the kiddie soaps and towards the chocolate/wine or books, in the local Waitrose as they search, my money in hand, for the perfect treat for Mummy. Then after long deliberations and purchases, which will serve to fray the nerves and delay the exit from the store, we will all grow more tired and more fretful (after a big week at school) and enjoy one of those walks home, replete with bickering and whining along the lines of "his gift is better" and "he always copies me" and "can we open it now and have some?" and "I can't walk another step" and "it's not fair, why are you so mean Mummy?".
What's there not to love about Mother's Day?
Maybe I'm building it up too much. After all, last year's passed without event. I have absolutely no recollection of what happened...
No - none at all.
I do remember the Australian Mother's Day last year which is observed in May. What a morbid and lonely day. I spent it with the delightful Off-Spring contemplating my dear mother (Mrs Springgirl) who died just three days after Mother's Day in 2009. Poignant and sorrowful is about all I can say for it.
....
The truth is that I personally derive minimal pleasure from these socially appointed celebrations. Perhaps I'm a miserable kill-joy or a cynic.
No - I definitely am a miserable kill-joy and a cynic, but nevertheless, the pink trinkets and the crumbs in the bed really don't mean that much to me.
Admittedly, the special displays at the supermarket are very pretty and quite irresistible. Pastel marshmallows and Turkish Delight so temptingly offered to us (as if we would ever buy this for ourselves or our mothers on any day of the year), to tantalise us as we queue with our too-heavy baskets and to tug at our consciences as we finally reach the cashier and remember amidst all the other detritus cluttering our weary brains, that our mothers-in-law do like rosewater, don't they, and hadn't we better get a box just in case, ooh and a card, since Fred/Hank/Jim/Ian never remembers these things...
And where would we be without those displays, the full-page ads in the paper and the catchy jingles on the radio? We could hardly be expected to come up with a gift idea without them, given our mothers are such strange and unfamiliar creatures whose actual tastes and preferences are so mysterious and hidden. The safe (and sage) option is to buy pink and purple cards, sickly sweets and flowered coffee cups, little floral tea towels and bouquets of flowers for these most strange, yet cherished of people.
Any excuse to spend a little money eh?
Some of you may wonder why I am so ambivalent - even negative - about Mother's Day. Let me assure you that I know all the tried and tested rationales for these special days.
They just don't resonate with me. Here is why:
1. I am tired of being told what to think, buy and feel by the stores, the media and the pundits. I am weary of being guided in all of my choices by what B-list Celebrity-So-and-So will be doing, wearing or eating this Sunday.
2. I rail against commercially motivated contrivances conceived to remind us not to take our loved one's for granted. The truth is that no matter what we say or spend once or twice a year, we do, and always will, take our mothers for granted. It's human nature to take the good things for granted. Not wilfully or maliciously; it's just how we are. Mothers, fathers too, our friends, our health, our good fortune, good weather, employment, safety, clean water. One day devoted to mothers/fathers will not change that.
3. What about all the others whose contributions go unacknowledged? Those who do not have a "Day"? The unsung heroes? Mothers are just the tip of an immense iceberg made up of all those who carry the community - fathers (they have a day and various other perks, admittedly), teachers (despite great holidays), soldiers (some travel hardly makes up for death, mutilation and poor sanitation), nurses, scientists, rubbish collectors, cleaners and those lorry drivers tirelessly bringing all the pink treats to the high street for us?
Where is the day for all of these people?
4. To spoil us one day a year is ultimately, unkind, inhumane. Like the last meal for the condemned man? For those mothers who do get a treat or a spoiling - some time out, a chance to relax or to be freed from the chores or the responsibility - the fall back down to earth the next day, week, month can be harsh. While it keeps the day itself special, of course, a thing to be longed for or savoured, it is not a kindness, in the long run.
5. Despite point 2 above, despite the fact that we feel we are not acknowledged enough, feel neglected sometimes, long for peace, uninterrupted sleep or quality alone time, a day for mothers is unnecessary. Because every day is mother's day.
Every day that they smile back, say thank you nicely and go to bed on time, is mother's day. Every day that they offer to help around the house, beg us to come to school and see their play, read them a story or play a game with them, is mother's day. Every day that they rush to greet us, ask our advice, roll their eyes at said advice or tell us dinner was disgusting - is mother's day. Every time we wave them goodbye and sigh with relief when they come back, is mother's day. Amidst the joy, frustration, pain, worry, heartache and despair that goes with motherhood, not a day goes by without a reminder of the love that they feel for us, of the love we feel for our own mothers, and perhaps most meaningfully, of the love we feel for our children. A virtuous circle.
So - Mother's Day is not my cup of tea (-in-bed-with-toast).
Thankfully, it's only one day. I'll survive.
.....
On a lighter note I am congratulating myself on being a very good mother this week.
For this week I learnt that:
a) Working mothers in the UK spend 81 minutes a day looking after their children and
b) Non-working mothers in the UK average 2 hours 35 minutes directly caring for their children each day.
In the world of competitive mothering we all know that any information that validates or vindicates choices to work or not to work are like manna from Heaven, so thanks to the OECD for commissioning this important survey.
But the results seem flawed. Is it just me or are these figures very low? For working and non-working women alike! Where on earth are the kids the other 21- 22 hours of the day?
Of course I have done a back of the envelope calculation. I think it only right to aggregate my totals (i.e. times by 3) in relation to each of the Off-Spring.
Now I should preface my comments by saying that I was (and at heart remain) a tax lawyer, so pedantically allocating time to activities is my bread and butter. Accordingly, I have reached a somewhat higher figure of 48.38 hours/day which reflects what I consider to be "directly caring" for my children - namely:
shopping for their meals, cooking,washing, ironing, cleaning, tidying, arranging their social and extra-curricular activities, attending meetings at school, Googling their foibles, leafing through Mini-Boden Catalogues, listening to other mothers talk about their kids,scraping uneaten food slops off the floor,running the PTA (this is a quiet period which may skew my final tally and does not take into account extraordinary events such as bake sales, fundraisers or big school gate gossip sessions...),planning what to wear on the school run,going on the school run,talking to, bathing, feeding, playing and reading with the children,thinking/worrying about some aspect of their lives or development (lawyers customarily bill for thinking time).But all of that is beside the real point - which was the third Big Thing I learnt this week.
According to the FAST programme of parenting - 15 quality minutes a day for each child should just about do it (after a few weeks one can build up to more, apparently).
So reconciling the data - it seems that most of the guilt and angst mothers feel is unnecessary provided 15 minutes of the 81 (or 48 hours) is "quality" time.
I am so happy because let me assure you that my tidying, Googling, worrying and direct play are all very high quality! In fact this blog post has taken almost 115 minutes...
So where am I now?
Celebrating motherhood, of course!
Just don't get me started on Valentine's Day or Halloween.
March 27, 2011
Short and sweet
I began Spring to Ming Blog exactly a year ago, in a cynical ploy to gain readers and followers and hopefully sell some books. But, it wasn't long before I discovered the joys of blogging for its own sake. Like chatting with an old friend. The discipline required to craft a post helped me with my writing and my work. Searching for a topic, framing my thoughts, plotting the tale, as it were, were invaluable in developing my sense of ease with blogging, as well as my interests and niche as a writer and a coach. The truth is, as I came to discover during this past year, wanting to write is like managing a dull thirst - one is not really sated until one has the drink. And I don't mean alcohol or managing an addiction. No it's more basic than that, more instinctual and imperative, like quenching one's thirst with water alone.
Writing has become a necessity. One is not settled or at ease until the thoughts are outside of one - whether on a page, in a post or stored on some USB stick (in case of viruses and theft and what have you). The fact that at the same time as expressing a thought one can reach strangers and have one's words read almost immediately, is perhaps the greatest miracle of the digital age (discuss!).
So at this juncture - as Spring to Mind Blog turns 1 I feel many things, like a parent whose child reaches its first birthday. Well not as tired, perhaps, but with similar feelings of pride and wonder.
Seriously, though.
Back in the real world I have been giving thought to ways of getting my work "out there".
Accordingly, I gave away several copies of "Spring to Mind" to poor sweaty, unsuspecting exercise class attendees at my gym. Many thanks to Barrie - the super cool and super funny instructor, who like me was once a lawyer until something better came along - who supportively announced that there were "books to be had" if anyone wanted one. I was very relieved to find that I ran out of books the first week. My fear and shyness at the thought that all those women would run away from the crazy wannabe who brought her stupid book to Total Body Conditioning (TBC) to give away (Desp-er-ate!), proved to be Totally Unfounded. My visions of having to find a new gym or face Barrie forcing me to do 2000 one legged squats the following week as retribution for driving his class away with my blatant self promotion, evaporated (faster than my sweat after back-to-back Step and TBC). I chided myself on my self-limiting thoughts and began to plan the next Give-Away Assault.
Kicking myself that I did not get out to the march in London yesterday - thousands of people milling in Hyde Park and Parliament Square - and where was I? Not in amongst them with a pushchair full of books, but at the gym!
At the risk of boring you with my troubles (again) - I did a search of writing competitions in the UK last week only to discover a dearth of contests for anyone writing lengthy prose. Instead there are many places to showcase one's skills as a short story or indeed "micro-fiction" writer.
I had one of those "aha" moments that I so love, then. All of sudden I realised that the daunting prospect of another edit, another read-through and another tome to have to give away - would not be problematic at all if one were writing micro-fiction (anything from 50 to 250 words). Hooray!
So, desperate to win a prize or two at some stage in the span of this writing phase I got out the notebook and jotted down some ideas for very short stories. I had quite a lot of inspiration during the sermon at mass, it has to be said...
So I though I would share a couple with you here. I would love your feedback - micro-feedback preferably.
Beat Butter and Sugar to a Cream
And they all begin that way – as if it could be any different. Beat butter and sugar to a cream. Add wet ingredients, add dry ingredients. So simple. Yet it doesn't always rise. Or it comes out dry and crusty or tasteless and soggy. Though soggy at least reminds one of cooking as a child, which is sort of fun, in the sad way nostalgia is. The sepia tones of cakes long gone.
I barely taste it anyway. And they don't care. Take it out. Cut it up. Shovel it down. Wipe up the crumbs. Wash it all down with tepid tea. Exchange remarks, as Gran would say. Pass the time. Comment on the weather, the news, the score. Plates back to the kitchen, washed up, put away. All done. For an hour or two. Then to sit with nothing to say, nothing to do; the silence oppressive. Why can I think of nothing to say? Nothing at all. So I sit and wait and smile a little, to seem relaxed. Pick up a book. Ponder. Put it down.
Oh, is that the time? Relief floods in. "Better start dinner, how the time goes." Retreat to the kitchen. Peace again. The next round begins in the grey war of attrition. Feed them, clean up. Feed them, clean up. All week. All year.
But Sundays, at least, are sepia days – beating butter and sugar to a cream.
What do you think?
I have another I prepared earlier:
Worker Bees He drones. Literally. Like a worker bee.
And he smells. Not of charm. Nor success, nor desirability. Not even of man. Or of a man's lunch. Meat, gravy, Coke. No - just noxious cologne sprayed too long on stale clothes, and of arrogance. And last night's scotch. And cheap machine coffee. Reeks of that.
He talks of tax and accounting, but what does he mean when he says "above the Line"? What Line? The line on the wall behind his shining, pale, ridiculously high forehead? The line on the flipchart under his name? All slanty and uneven, like a child slipped in over lunch and wrote it for him. Then fell asleep in the corner, when the droning began. Or is it some other Line, only he can see?
He looks at me now. Does he sense it? Can he hear my thoughts? Does he know I can smell his breath across the room? Has he any idea that the Line plagues me night and day? His squinty,dead eyes on me should be unnerving.
But he doesn't see me. For what is there to see? Pregnant woman, greying hair. Old yet young.
A hand goes up. The droning stops, at last. He seems calm. But it's an act; he hates interruption. He's locked in an inner battle. The grey men in their poorly made suits wait, glance at the clock, their phones.
"Yes?" Convention prevails. He'll answer the question. Appear normal. He caresses his ear with a finger. Then picks it.
"What if "above the Line" is "across the Line"?" I pause.
"It's your baby."
So short can be fun - like hairstyles, skirts, coffee...
Writing has become a necessity. One is not settled or at ease until the thoughts are outside of one - whether on a page, in a post or stored on some USB stick (in case of viruses and theft and what have you). The fact that at the same time as expressing a thought one can reach strangers and have one's words read almost immediately, is perhaps the greatest miracle of the digital age (discuss!).
So at this juncture - as Spring to Mind Blog turns 1 I feel many things, like a parent whose child reaches its first birthday. Well not as tired, perhaps, but with similar feelings of pride and wonder.
Seriously, though.
Back in the real world I have been giving thought to ways of getting my work "out there".
Accordingly, I gave away several copies of "Spring to Mind" to poor sweaty, unsuspecting exercise class attendees at my gym. Many thanks to Barrie - the super cool and super funny instructor, who like me was once a lawyer until something better came along - who supportively announced that there were "books to be had" if anyone wanted one. I was very relieved to find that I ran out of books the first week. My fear and shyness at the thought that all those women would run away from the crazy wannabe who brought her stupid book to Total Body Conditioning (TBC) to give away (Desp-er-ate!), proved to be Totally Unfounded. My visions of having to find a new gym or face Barrie forcing me to do 2000 one legged squats the following week as retribution for driving his class away with my blatant self promotion, evaporated (faster than my sweat after back-to-back Step and TBC). I chided myself on my self-limiting thoughts and began to plan the next Give-Away Assault.
Kicking myself that I did not get out to the march in London yesterday - thousands of people milling in Hyde Park and Parliament Square - and where was I? Not in amongst them with a pushchair full of books, but at the gym!
At the risk of boring you with my troubles (again) - I did a search of writing competitions in the UK last week only to discover a dearth of contests for anyone writing lengthy prose. Instead there are many places to showcase one's skills as a short story or indeed "micro-fiction" writer.
I had one of those "aha" moments that I so love, then. All of sudden I realised that the daunting prospect of another edit, another read-through and another tome to have to give away - would not be problematic at all if one were writing micro-fiction (anything from 50 to 250 words). Hooray!
So, desperate to win a prize or two at some stage in the span of this writing phase I got out the notebook and jotted down some ideas for very short stories. I had quite a lot of inspiration during the sermon at mass, it has to be said...
So I though I would share a couple with you here. I would love your feedback - micro-feedback preferably.
Beat Butter and Sugar to a Cream
And they all begin that way – as if it could be any different. Beat butter and sugar to a cream. Add wet ingredients, add dry ingredients. So simple. Yet it doesn't always rise. Or it comes out dry and crusty or tasteless and soggy. Though soggy at least reminds one of cooking as a child, which is sort of fun, in the sad way nostalgia is. The sepia tones of cakes long gone.
I barely taste it anyway. And they don't care. Take it out. Cut it up. Shovel it down. Wipe up the crumbs. Wash it all down with tepid tea. Exchange remarks, as Gran would say. Pass the time. Comment on the weather, the news, the score. Plates back to the kitchen, washed up, put away. All done. For an hour or two. Then to sit with nothing to say, nothing to do; the silence oppressive. Why can I think of nothing to say? Nothing at all. So I sit and wait and smile a little, to seem relaxed. Pick up a book. Ponder. Put it down.
Oh, is that the time? Relief floods in. "Better start dinner, how the time goes." Retreat to the kitchen. Peace again. The next round begins in the grey war of attrition. Feed them, clean up. Feed them, clean up. All week. All year.
But Sundays, at least, are sepia days – beating butter and sugar to a cream.
What do you think?
I have another I prepared earlier:
Worker Bees He drones. Literally. Like a worker bee.
And he smells. Not of charm. Nor success, nor desirability. Not even of man. Or of a man's lunch. Meat, gravy, Coke. No - just noxious cologne sprayed too long on stale clothes, and of arrogance. And last night's scotch. And cheap machine coffee. Reeks of that.
He talks of tax and accounting, but what does he mean when he says "above the Line"? What Line? The line on the wall behind his shining, pale, ridiculously high forehead? The line on the flipchart under his name? All slanty and uneven, like a child slipped in over lunch and wrote it for him. Then fell asleep in the corner, when the droning began. Or is it some other Line, only he can see?
He looks at me now. Does he sense it? Can he hear my thoughts? Does he know I can smell his breath across the room? Has he any idea that the Line plagues me night and day? His squinty,dead eyes on me should be unnerving.
But he doesn't see me. For what is there to see? Pregnant woman, greying hair. Old yet young.
A hand goes up. The droning stops, at last. He seems calm. But it's an act; he hates interruption. He's locked in an inner battle. The grey men in their poorly made suits wait, glance at the clock, their phones.
"Yes?" Convention prevails. He'll answer the question. Appear normal. He caresses his ear with a finger. Then picks it.
"What if "above the Line" is "across the Line"?" I pause.
"It's your baby."
So short can be fun - like hairstyles, skirts, coffee...
March 23, 2011
Comfort food
It's been too long! I almost couldn't remember the password for my blog! I cannot claim to have been really busy this past 6 weeks. I've been writing and coaching and marketing both endeavours. I finished my novel - not in time to enter the Amazon Breakthrough Novel competition - but in time to allow me to focus on whether to self-publish it or find an agent. Keen on seeing it in print (sooner rather than never), I opted to self-publish. Rather than read it a 387th time (even I am weary of the font and the characters now), I hit the "make public" button and it is now available.
Much as I would love to extol its virtues here, I will save my rantings for another post. Suffice to say - I think it will amuse and entertain. Anyone who would like to review it - you would be more objective after all - I would be delighted to hear your views. Anything favourable can be posted to www.amazon.co.uk, www.lulu.com or emailed to me at zoe@writethen.co.uk. If in the unlikely case that you read it and take issue with it or have negative comments, I suggest you give it away to someone else.
As a little aside, a good friend told me that she leant my first book "Spring to Mind" to a work colleague who was in fits of laughter and floods of tears as she read it at her desk at work. It was very gratifying. Right up there with the views of my neighbour who told me I was "ballsy" to write such a novel...
So where to start and what to say on other matters. I would love to comment on Libya, the tsunami in Japan, or nuclear reactors (or "nuke-ular" ones - depending from where you hail), but I am not qualified to venture a view. My heart goes out to all who have lost loved ones, homes or livelihoods and who face that loss and the eternal "why?" that accompanies it and the long and perhaps never-ending road to recovery. The devastation is incomprehensible.
Rather than confront that misery and the huge imponderables that natural disasters and armed conflict give rise to, I will focus on more pedestrian things - for which I am grateful. You see, for now, all is well. No chicken pox blights us as yet this Spring, there is no ghastly news from family abroad. We are well and safe and basically happy. We have merely the pedestrian concerns of the ordinary urban household (that pays over the odds for good chocolate and is fed up with the chewed up gum left on every spare surface in the city).
But we are thankful nevertheless for only having such worries. I will not labour the point about perspective and gratitude yet again - been done to death. If you are new to me - read these earlier posts.
No - for today the topic is - Limits and Ambiguity.
I read some research today that said that people eat chips and chocolate because these foods give them comfort and alleviate feelings of loneliness - like a social connection might. Indeed the report stated that comfort eating is similar to the way people connect and bond with their favourite tv show.
Well obviously! This is not news (so little is these days - but that's another post).
Suffice to say that favourite tv shows provide a rich seam of social connectedness. The cast of "Friends" are almost as dear to me as any real life friend. For a time my constant companions were Don and Betty Draper ("Mad Men") and the casts of "NCIS" and "The West Wing" are more than a de facto family. I care about Josh Lyman as I would a brother.
And yes - it will come as no surprise to any reader of Spring to Mind to learn that Green and Black's dark chocolate praline mini eggs are the greatest source of comfort in my life.
Read my blog and most trends in lifestyle research will eventually be analysed and revealed - and more cheaply and without nearly the same hoopla and publicity. Hey ho...
So, where was I? Limits and Ambiguity?
Yes - relax - there is a link to the topic. Given that tv provides us with rich social bonds - I refer you to "Damages". This show is a real find. In the legal, crime drama milieu this show is unique in that every villain is likeable and capable of garnering our sympathy. "The Good Wife" does this to some extent - but one feels this is deliberate - a moral lesson, if you will. In contrast Damages seems real - less contrived. Every hero is flawed and corruptible too. The cast is superb, the acting consistent and likeable and even in their darkest moments we somehow relate to the actions of the characters. They are very human and vulnerable - like us. Not mere goodies and baddies through and through. And their behaviour is not attributable to some deep, dark, lurking, yet buried childhood tragedy, the revelation of which we eagerly await season after season. Rather, it would appear that people are complex and ambiguous and even "good" people make bad choices.
We, the audience, are credited with the capacity to wonder and think and reflect - albeit in a different way to that required of devotees of "Mad Men" *(which draws on a time in history and the personal struggles of the characters with issues of authenticity and identity within that context) or "The West Wing" (which was as much about a system and the working of bureaucracy as it was about individuals within it). But it is very flattering to be treated as capable of reflection and thought. Perhaps I am naive or easily manipulated - but watching gripping drama in which the villain is likeable at some level is compelling, even addictive.
Every day in ordinary social interactions we meet people who may also struggle with internal conflicts, moral grey areas and huge decisions that are plagued with ambiguity and uncertainty. Indeed, perhaps we face such situations as well.
We raise our children hopefully to know and choose right from wrong, to have an internal moral compass to guide them through the trickier times. Yet, even in the playground, in primary school, they face dilemmas that are ambiguous. They grapple with choices every day - to tell or not to
tell, to forgive, to trust, to be vulnerable. And they face them alone.
And they survive.
.....
Which is where "The Brady Bunch" comes in.
How many times does one think back to childhood days when memories of what Marcia or Jan would have done guided us through a tough period at school. Children today need more of that! Once a week I coach two boys whose primary source of entertainment is "The Simpsons". I have no issue with this - though 17 hours a week (as they claim) may be excessive... But, the fact is - I am no stranger to sitcoms and tv drama, movies and books, and in all that I have watched, read and sampled over some 30 years - nothing much beats "The Brady Bunch" for good, sensible, family oriented entertainment. Yes, it's dated, But Marcia is still cute, Greg is still annoying, Peter is still compelling and Mike and Carol, still "real". While we know that everything will end up basically alright, in each episode the characters face a challenge or an opportunity and must make choices which have consequences.
A timeless lesson.
....
A new film is released in the UK this week - "Limitless". I hope to see it. I know nothing about it apart from what is revealed in the trailer. The premise - what would you do it you were offered a pill that would make you super human - to see connections, understand the mysteries of the world, make shedloads of money... and so on.
A fictional romp... and yet...
What would one do?
.....
Truth is, I quite like limits. I like knowing that if I run too fast I will fall down panting, at least based on recent evidence. I like learning from my mistakes and finding new ways of doing things. Yet, I also like not knowing something and trying to find out. I like ambiguity and the opportunities it provides for challenge and self-discovery. But I also like chocolate, writing and good tv. I like knowing where my pineapple comes from and knowing what might happen tomorrow.
So there is a fine line between control and limits; between uncertainty and ambiguity; between comfort and loneliness.
Perhaps that's why the makers of "Damages" give the viewer a glimpse of the end of the season in the first episode. We already care and are bought into what happens. We have 12 weeks to come to terms with the how and the why. Not to say this is the only formula for TV success - the tension and suspense in "The Brady Bunch", when we only discovered at the last minute whether Cindy would conquer her fear of magic tricks and be Peter's assistant or whether Mike would keep his job after Carol insulted his boss - is second to none.
But these are not our real lives. These shows are our escape, our fantasy land where time can stand still for 39 minutes. So is it any wonder we turn to chips and chocolate? In the face of tsunamis and dictators and air strikes, random and chance events that steal families of loved ones, what else do we have to provide us with solace and a small, fleeting and illusory sense that we are in control and are safe.
Frankly - those praline eggs are not comfort food - but survival rations!
Much as I would love to extol its virtues here, I will save my rantings for another post. Suffice to say - I think it will amuse and entertain. Anyone who would like to review it - you would be more objective after all - I would be delighted to hear your views. Anything favourable can be posted to www.amazon.co.uk, www.lulu.com or emailed to me at zoe@writethen.co.uk. If in the unlikely case that you read it and take issue with it or have negative comments, I suggest you give it away to someone else.
As a little aside, a good friend told me that she leant my first book "Spring to Mind" to a work colleague who was in fits of laughter and floods of tears as she read it at her desk at work. It was very gratifying. Right up there with the views of my neighbour who told me I was "ballsy" to write such a novel...
So where to start and what to say on other matters. I would love to comment on Libya, the tsunami in Japan, or nuclear reactors (or "nuke-ular" ones - depending from where you hail), but I am not qualified to venture a view. My heart goes out to all who have lost loved ones, homes or livelihoods and who face that loss and the eternal "why?" that accompanies it and the long and perhaps never-ending road to recovery. The devastation is incomprehensible.
Rather than confront that misery and the huge imponderables that natural disasters and armed conflict give rise to, I will focus on more pedestrian things - for which I am grateful. You see, for now, all is well. No chicken pox blights us as yet this Spring, there is no ghastly news from family abroad. We are well and safe and basically happy. We have merely the pedestrian concerns of the ordinary urban household (that pays over the odds for good chocolate and is fed up with the chewed up gum left on every spare surface in the city).
But we are thankful nevertheless for only having such worries. I will not labour the point about perspective and gratitude yet again - been done to death. If you are new to me - read these earlier posts.
No - for today the topic is - Limits and Ambiguity.
I read some research today that said that people eat chips and chocolate because these foods give them comfort and alleviate feelings of loneliness - like a social connection might. Indeed the report stated that comfort eating is similar to the way people connect and bond with their favourite tv show.
Well obviously! This is not news (so little is these days - but that's another post).
Suffice to say that favourite tv shows provide a rich seam of social connectedness. The cast of "Friends" are almost as dear to me as any real life friend. For a time my constant companions were Don and Betty Draper ("Mad Men") and the casts of "NCIS" and "The West Wing" are more than a de facto family. I care about Josh Lyman as I would a brother.
And yes - it will come as no surprise to any reader of Spring to Mind to learn that Green and Black's dark chocolate praline mini eggs are the greatest source of comfort in my life.
Read my blog and most trends in lifestyle research will eventually be analysed and revealed - and more cheaply and without nearly the same hoopla and publicity. Hey ho...
So, where was I? Limits and Ambiguity?
Yes - relax - there is a link to the topic. Given that tv provides us with rich social bonds - I refer you to "Damages". This show is a real find. In the legal, crime drama milieu this show is unique in that every villain is likeable and capable of garnering our sympathy. "The Good Wife" does this to some extent - but one feels this is deliberate - a moral lesson, if you will. In contrast Damages seems real - less contrived. Every hero is flawed and corruptible too. The cast is superb, the acting consistent and likeable and even in their darkest moments we somehow relate to the actions of the characters. They are very human and vulnerable - like us. Not mere goodies and baddies through and through. And their behaviour is not attributable to some deep, dark, lurking, yet buried childhood tragedy, the revelation of which we eagerly await season after season. Rather, it would appear that people are complex and ambiguous and even "good" people make bad choices.
We, the audience, are credited with the capacity to wonder and think and reflect - albeit in a different way to that required of devotees of "Mad Men" *(which draws on a time in history and the personal struggles of the characters with issues of authenticity and identity within that context) or "The West Wing" (which was as much about a system and the working of bureaucracy as it was about individuals within it). But it is very flattering to be treated as capable of reflection and thought. Perhaps I am naive or easily manipulated - but watching gripping drama in which the villain is likeable at some level is compelling, even addictive.
Every day in ordinary social interactions we meet people who may also struggle with internal conflicts, moral grey areas and huge decisions that are plagued with ambiguity and uncertainty. Indeed, perhaps we face such situations as well.
We raise our children hopefully to know and choose right from wrong, to have an internal moral compass to guide them through the trickier times. Yet, even in the playground, in primary school, they face dilemmas that are ambiguous. They grapple with choices every day - to tell or not to
tell, to forgive, to trust, to be vulnerable. And they face them alone.
And they survive.
.....
Which is where "The Brady Bunch" comes in.
How many times does one think back to childhood days when memories of what Marcia or Jan would have done guided us through a tough period at school. Children today need more of that! Once a week I coach two boys whose primary source of entertainment is "The Simpsons". I have no issue with this - though 17 hours a week (as they claim) may be excessive... But, the fact is - I am no stranger to sitcoms and tv drama, movies and books, and in all that I have watched, read and sampled over some 30 years - nothing much beats "The Brady Bunch" for good, sensible, family oriented entertainment. Yes, it's dated, But Marcia is still cute, Greg is still annoying, Peter is still compelling and Mike and Carol, still "real". While we know that everything will end up basically alright, in each episode the characters face a challenge or an opportunity and must make choices which have consequences.
A timeless lesson.
....
A new film is released in the UK this week - "Limitless". I hope to see it. I know nothing about it apart from what is revealed in the trailer. The premise - what would you do it you were offered a pill that would make you super human - to see connections, understand the mysteries of the world, make shedloads of money... and so on.
A fictional romp... and yet...
What would one do?
.....
Truth is, I quite like limits. I like knowing that if I run too fast I will fall down panting, at least based on recent evidence. I like learning from my mistakes and finding new ways of doing things. Yet, I also like not knowing something and trying to find out. I like ambiguity and the opportunities it provides for challenge and self-discovery. But I also like chocolate, writing and good tv. I like knowing where my pineapple comes from and knowing what might happen tomorrow.
So there is a fine line between control and limits; between uncertainty and ambiguity; between comfort and loneliness.
Perhaps that's why the makers of "Damages" give the viewer a glimpse of the end of the season in the first episode. We already care and are bought into what happens. We have 12 weeks to come to terms with the how and the why. Not to say this is the only formula for TV success - the tension and suspense in "The Brady Bunch", when we only discovered at the last minute whether Cindy would conquer her fear of magic tricks and be Peter's assistant or whether Mike would keep his job after Carol insulted his boss - is second to none.
But these are not our real lives. These shows are our escape, our fantasy land where time can stand still for 39 minutes. So is it any wonder we turn to chips and chocolate? In the face of tsunamis and dictators and air strikes, random and chance events that steal families of loved ones, what else do we have to provide us with solace and a small, fleeting and illusory sense that we are in control and are safe.
Frankly - those praline eggs are not comfort food - but survival rations!
Spring to Mind
A humorous look at all things Spring. A fresh take on the seasons and hues of urban life.
- Zoe Copley's profile
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