There's a man child in the house

Oh my god.  Just realised that there really is a man child in the house.  Yes - that's right, Eldest Son is kind of a mixture of lodger and relative, who, aged 18, manages to live in the house with us, but not quite with us.  His room has morphed from being a teenage swamp to a man sized swamp.  How did this happen?  I am sure I am too young.  Now it has become harder to convince him to live in some semblance of order.  Apparently he can do it all himself.  Which is fine providing I don't have to see what it is he does.

Box Set Mania

The autumn nights are drawing in and winter is on its way.  It’s time to close the curtains, batten down the hatches and watch TV.  Hooray for box sets.  They solve the problems of the world in ten easy episodes all watched (if you want) back to back with no interruptions.  No waiting a whole week for the next episode. No daydreaming at work day wondering who the murder is or if a certain ex-marine was finally about to be revealed as a traitor.

Absent Husband and I discovered box sets over the dismal summer. (Obviously this was before the Olympics started).  We bought the entire series of three different shows we missed when they were on TV originally.  We became obsessed and often watched multiple episodes into the early hours.  Eldest Son came home from a party to find us in the same position on the sofa where he had left us six hours earlier.

The trouble is that they have ruined me for real time episodes.  I no longer want to wait until next week.  I get annoyed with the 168 hours in between.  I can’t be left like this, hanging on a cliff for seven days.

I was going to write my recent column in The Advertiser about the conflicting parenting advice going around at the moment.  Some parents are of the hands on variety and others are the opposite.   But in the end I was too busy watching a box set.  I must be of the opposite then.    So consequently my column became one about the glories of box sets instead.

 

One word of warning though - don't watch Danish box sets when jet lagged.  It's quite tricky to read subtitles when you are dropping off to sleep.  However, if you suffer from insomnia, this could well be a good way of putting you to sleep.

 

 

But there is still the laundry to do...

It's back to the grind.... and 18th birthdays and University applications. I'm tired already.

September came with a bout of hot weather.  Hooray - an Indian summer.  However, this only lasted a week or so and we were soon into Autumn splashes and storms.    Alex managed to look pretty cool at his prize giving too, dressed in a frock in his senior prefect garb.

Luckily for Alex, it was sunny for his 18th birthday party and we were able to throw the animals (sorry) guests out into the garden:

Andrew started his new job in mid September and I am only just getting used to the alarm going off at the ridiculous time of 05.59.  What is the point of 05.59?  What's wrong with 06.30?  It's so dark at the moment in the morning that it is hard to actually force myself out of bed.

September also means that it is back to the grind of sport.  Hockey and rugby feature prominently this term and Alex has jumped up with much enthusiasm:

He's the number 6 jumping right up.

The university applications have gone off and so now is the time to cut my nails so that I can't chew them down to the quick.

Next month brings NaNowWrimo for me.  What the heck is that you ask?  It's time for me to dedicate a whole month to writing a novel.  Only this time I can do it with the support of millions of others who have signed up too.  The story is planned and researched - I just need to get on with it.  Hmm only 80,000 words or so to do.

So, my dear Blog we are now square and up to date.  Although I will be NaNoing next month, I promise to pay you a visit.

Watch this space...

Wordsworth and Lakes; Orangutans in the Jungle; Sunny Queensland; the Olympics and Menorca: What a summer!

Well - it's been a while since I last posted a blog.  I guess life got in the way a bit.  The last time I posted was July and I had a little rant about the weather.  The rain didn't go away so I suppose it must have rained somewhere on St Swithins day.Soon the summer holidays where upon us and we kicked off with a long weekend in the Lake district.  For this trip it was just Andrew, Harry, Archie (faithful hound) and me.  We stayed in Lodore on Derwent Water.  Great hotel and perfect location.  The really amazing thing was that it was probably the only part of the UK where it wasn't raining.  Alex was up in Scotland at T in the Park getting completely soaked.  Andy Murray was playing a semi final in Wimbledon dodging showers.  But we were walking up the Cat O Bells in glorious sunshine and blue sky.  The views from the top were stunning and the dark pink foxgloves dotted amongst green ferns were truly inspiring:

As was the chance to go to Dove Cottage in Grasmere.  William Wordsworth is still one of the most inspiring poets of all time.

We came back just in time to pack our bags for the next instalment of the Woolley family summer holiday.  This time we were altogether as we headed off to Borneo to meet the organutans.  Our journey to Kota Kinabalu (on the western side of Borneo) was long and arduous as long haul trips always are.  But a beautiful place awaited us and we were soon soaking up the sun and swimming in the South China sea.  We even managed to meet our first organutans - two four year old female orphans who we were lucky enough to get up close and personal with:

A few days later, we reluctantly packed our bags - the resort was so lovely it was hard to say goodbye - and headed on a small plane across the island to Sandakan.  On the way we were greeted with glorious views of Mt Kinabalu (with it volcanic crater) and then further on with not such a glorious view of acres and acres of Palm Oil plantations.  Palm Oil plantations = no rainforest. On arrival at Sandakan, I think Alex thought he was arriving as a famous rock star or something:

 On arrival at Sandakan, we drove two hours into the forest to a lodge on the Kinabatangan river.

 Bilit lodge was lovely (very different from the luxurious resort over in Kota).  Each room was a separate building on stilts with a hammock on each verandah.  We had the river on one side and the jungle on the other three sides.  We went out every morning and late afternoon on a boat in search of animals and birds:

We were lucky to see one orangutan in the wild - just as he was putting himself to bed.  But the greatest discovery of all was the probiscus monkey.  What a creature - what a star.  People come to Borneo to see the Orangutan, but the should really get to know the probiscus monkey.  The alpha males in particular are quite striking - they kind of look like a mixture of Oliver Cromwell, Buddha, Donald Trump and Frankenstein:

They may be ugly but they are endearing and we all fell in love with them.  Let's  not talk about a certain appendage though.


After four days, we left our jungle world and headed to the famous Orang utan sanctuary in Sepilok near Sandakan.  We arrived just in time for feeding and saw two or three young organgutans who managed to show us how to perform gymnastics whilst eating.  It as most enlightening:

We reluctantly said goodbye to them and travelled to Sandakan airport, but  not before we managed to get a tour around the Sandakan Memorial Park.  This is a memorial which pays homage to the Sandakan prisoner of war camp and the brave Australian and British POWs who perished in their long march in the jungle in 1945.  It was very moving and beautiful.  We flew onto to Kuala Lumpar where we had shower in a marble bathroom after having no proper shower in the jungle (got to save water you know).  Then it was off to Brisbane to see friends and family.

Let's get this straight now. It was winter in Australia but the weather was glorious - blue sky and sunshine with the temperature creeping up to mid twenties celsius during the day.

As you can see, Queensland winters are hard work.  It was great to catch up with friends and family especially my best buddy Chris:

And my old school buddy Peta marie:

We're not bad for 40 something

And my lovely family:

And then it was back to the UK in time for our Olympic trips.  We had been getting up in the early hours in Oz in order to watch events in the first week live.  We were finally now able to watch things in real time.  And what a Games they turned out to be:

Sometimes a picture says it all.

And then, as if that wasn't enough, Absent Husband who was coming to the end of his 9 months sabbatical decided we should head off for a week to Spain.  It was lovely to have a few days sun after the dull weather of the UK in August.  It was also amazing to see how many people could read "Fifty Shades of Grey" around one pool.  I prefer "Fifty Shades of Mr Darcy" myself.  

And so, the great summer endeth.  And so does this post.

An Ode to Summer 2012

What can I say?  It's been a wet old July (well, the whole summer has in fact).  So as this is supposed to be a writing blog - here's my creative contribution for the month:

An Ode to Summer 2012

To all you faithful worshippers

Of the golden ball in the sky,
Hear this tale of summer woe
It’s bound to make you cry.

March was warm and sunny

And we thought, hey this is funny,
We’re bound to get a summer hot and long.

But as the spring progressed

No sunshine we were blessed
It was clear that we had got our hopes all wrong.

With a hosepipe ban in place

April showed its spring like face,
With a multitude of showers and wet days.
 
May brought cancelled cricket matches
Which were mentioned in despatches,
And lead to competition delays.

The sun came out for Chelsea

And we thought at last it’s shown us mercy
But it wasn’t long before the clouds came back again.

On the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee

Bunting hung around merrily
Only to be pelted with very heavy rain.

Half term was rather wet

For those who’d pitched a tent,
And the Isle of Wight became a muddy mound.

School sports days and country fairs

Became things so rare,
As the rain lashed its way onto any ground.

In mid June the sun came out

And we all began to doubt
Our rather mean attitude to the weather.

But alas, it was not to be

We’d planned a BBQ hastily
As July just didn’t get any better.
 
Today is a sunny St Swithin’s Day
Has the rain really gone away?
Are we now destined for sun for forty days long?

But somewhere in this green old isle

Clouds are creeping over gate and stile
As the rain beats out its old familiar song.

So, put away the suncream

Forget the cold beer.
Pack away the BBQ
‘Cos summer’s just not here.

Vanessa Woolley

July 2012

Kayaking, Nail Varnish and Death by Chocolate: A teenage girl's dream party

I wish I had turned 13 last week and had an amazing party for seven close friends involving kayaking for two hours (falling into the lake and drinking hot chocolate), and then going home to eat cake (lots and lots of fairy cakes) and then putting on nail varnish and make up and costumes to play a three hour murder mystery game whilst being served a three course meal.  And don't forget how wonderful it would be to watch a romcom whilst quaffing chocolate and then talk until 1 am.  Oh the sheer bliss of turning 13.

The chances of that happening to me (aged 45 and a half) are extremely slim.  In fact non existent.  But Only Daughter enjoyed her day.

Help - there are three teenagers in the house now!

Yes.  The day is almost upon us.  From Sunday onwards the house will be inhabited with THREE teenagers.  THREE!!

It's hard to imagine that only a few years ago (well, thirteen actually) a lovely older lady spoke to me in the park in Marlow.  Chloe was newborn in her pram and Harry was a terrible two year old running about with his older 4 and half year old brother chasing after him.  Her words were, and I quote "You've got your hands full there love".  At the time I brushed this aside.  Eldest Son was quiet and well behaved and reasonably civilised.  Younger Son was a bit of handful then, but he was only two and his position as the youngest child had been usurped by a creature in a pram.  I thought I was invincible. 

In a way, those were the easy years.  Teenagers with all their demands are far more needy and tiring and annoying. 

And as for Not So Absent Husband.  Well, having him at home is like having a fourth teenager.

Need I say more?

I love them really....

Vanessa x

Always Take the Weather with You

There's something completely predictable about a British summer.  It rains.  It's as simple as that.  This year it is even more ironic than ever.  A hosepipe ban is imposed.  It rains a few days later.  The first test match of the season starts.  It rains. A long bank holiday weekend arrives with long planned Jubilee events.  It rains.  Half term arrives.  It rains.  I sometimes wonder if it might be best NOT to plan any of these calendar events.  Well, at least don't tell the Weather about it and then just sneak an event in when the sun is out.  Anything planned in ink, written down or talked about for months before is bound to be hit by the Weather.

My May was spent dodging showers and digging out jumpers and coats again as the mercury fell in the middle of the month.  The test match at Lords was the coldest I have ever been watching cricket.  Watching the boys in white whilst wearing a scarf and gloves was not quite what I expected for my first time at Lords, still the following week things did pick up for Chelsea flower show and then had to dig out the suncream and floppy hat.  Honestly it drives me nuts and what's worse is having Only Daughter constantly asking me what she should wear - is it cold outside?  It is going to rain today?  Is it going to be hot?

On the writing front - well, the summer house is there ready now for me to find my way down there which I did a couple of weeks ago only to be found by Eldest Son who was at home on study leave.  First of all he was wondering what was for lunch, and then he began to kick the football up against the wall near the summer house.  The constant kick, kick, kick drove me nuts and so I retreated back to the house only to find Not So Absent Husband watching cricket on Sky on the TV.

These pictures prove that the sun did indeed shine at some point in May.  Lovely Chelsea blooms.

So here I sit in a coffee shop - it's raining outside and the windows are steaming up.  I am wondering if all those cricket games scheduled for this week will go ahead.  Anyway, it's back to writing.  Let's hope it stops raining soon or we will all have to grow webbed feet and begin to splash around in the puddles.  Might be more fun than getting annoyed. xx

Deep grass stains and Deep point of view- my day of washing and writing

Ah - the rain.  It cometh like a deluge for at least ten days now and is showing no signs of stopping.  Despite this, Eldest Son managed to play a game of cricket yesterday.  Yes - a whole match was played without rain stopping play.  After four cancelled games, this was good news.  But the bad news is that his cricket whites are now covered in grass stains.  This is by no means unusual for the cricket season.  After all, the ball must be stopped from reaching the boundary and if that means sliding along grass to stop it, so be it.

So it was to the laundry room this morning that I made my way armed with my trusty stain remover Shout.  (Perhaps it ought to be Shout! like Hello! magazine).  As I sprayed generously over the grass and mud stains, I began to ponder about my writing at the moment.  (Curious train of thought I know but I am getting there).

I am currently trying to get my head around the writing technique known as Deep Point of View (POV).  This sounds like some kind of diagnosis and is by no means easy to achieve.  The trouble with having multiple third person narratives is that it is often hard to get the viewpoint right from a character's point of view without saying "he felt", "he thought", "he wondered".  It all becomes rather cumbersome and takes up excess words that aren't really needed.

So, like the stain remover, I am want to go deep into the character's head and get rid of excess, unwanted words in order to create smooth, flowing narrative in which the point of view is clearly felt by the reader.  Simple.  I just wish there was a Shout! for writers.

Vanessa x

Soggy Bluebell Walks

Horray!  They have finally gone back to school today.  The television and other electrical devices can take a break and Faithful Hound finally gets some attention.  I hadn't been up inthe woods for a while, so I thought I would take him up there to see the bluebells which would no doubt be out.

Well.  They were out and were as stunning as usual.  However, it was a rather soggy walk and whilst the woods smelt wonderful (all wet and earthy), I managed to get extremely damp and Faithful Hound muddy.  Still - the bluebells are always a sight to be seen.  The picture below is from last year.

I wonder what bluebells symbolise?  I have just read a wonderful book called "The Language of Flowers" by Vanessa Diffenbaugh which is all about the meaning of flowers and how they relate to our lives.  Great book and I highly recommend it.  Check out my recommendations on Good Read.

As for writing - well it kind of went by the wayside over the last three weeks.  I have, however, managed to get a column out for the paper (On the delights of teenager's bedroom) so I suppose it is not all bad.

Vanessa x

No More Disney or Dinosaur holidays

I have always longed for the day when I can take my family on holiday to an interesting city with all its cultural sights.  It’s hard dragging small children around art galleries, so Absent Husband and I have always avoided it.  Instead we have opted for Disneyland or outdoor activity parks.  We have talked to Disney princesses; screamed on thrill seeking rides and viewed animals in zoos.  But now we have three teenagers, we thought we would give a city break a try.

It was great.  They didn’t moan about walking miles or standing in a queue for museums.  In fact, they loved it:  especially the world famous football club museum.

They lugged their own bags through public transport; found Wi-Fi spots wherever they could and adopted European time schedules.  They were happy to stop for coffee or tapas or ice cream.  It all went extremely well and Absent Husband and I began to feel like it was the old days again when we could set off for a city destination and soak up the culture.  Only this time we could do it with our children. 

It was perfect, except for one small thing- the cost.  Small children have small children prices.  Museums and art galleries suddenly become expensive when your children are over twelve years.  And as for the food – a few tapas dishes are not quite enough and the phrase “I’m hungry” becomes as irritating as it is at home, only for different reasons. 

I guess we have swapped Disney and Dinosaurs for more interesting cultural experiences but at the end of the day, the only thing that doesn’t change is the cost.  It’s just different.

Doggy tails (or is it tales?)

Faithful Hound has been known to enjoy the odd bit of human food.  When I say a bit,  I actually mean rather a lot.  He has been known to steal whole slabs of butter; entire baguettes and even the decorator's ham and pickle sandwiches.  His favourite culinary delight however, is cheese.  Any type of cheese will do - he's not fussy, but he does have a partiality to cheddar - the strong, level 6 type, preferably left at room temperature on the table within easy reach.

A television report the other day informed us that like some humans in this country, dogs are becoming obese.  And the major reason for this is (apparently) too much cheese.  Humans are giving their dogs the wrong food - cheese is just not good for our four legged friends.  But what can you do when the hairy member of your family (and no - that's not absent husband before he has shaved) develops a taste for all things cheesy?  How can you control his desire for parmesan, edam, brie and cheddar?  His love of Philadelphia cheese (licked out of the container)?  Will he be demanding crackers, grapes and port next?

And as for pubs!  Just because we sometimes take him to our local (after a long walk of course), Faithul Hound seems to think he has to go into a pub everytime we walk past one.  It's as if he looks up at the sign swinging in the wind, spots the beer garden and thinks he should be there.  But when it comes to coffee shops - he won't be having any of it.  He will dig his paws firmly into the ground at the sight of a Costa or Starbucks - anywhere where he can't go in and participate in human food activities is just not for him.

Perhaps we should stick to walking him in the woods or across the fields - that way we won't come across any pubs or coffee shops - just some sheep and cows to chase.  Maybe then he will realise he is just a dog and not a human.

Disco Divas, Single Friends and Disobedient Sat Navs

Well.  I survived a car load of teenage girls on their way to a school disco.  Amongst the wall to wall Hollister, Jack Wills and Gill Hicks attire, I drove silently, trying hard to ignore the fact they were practising their mobile phone numbers over and over again in case a boy asked them for their number.  The car was a pleasant mix of just dried nail polish, perfume, hairspray and Katie Perry music blaring from various phones and ipods.  A massive change from the usual sport eau de cologne usually favoured by the male species after a match. 

On arrival at the disco, I doffed my cap and tried to throw them out.  However, twas not to be.  We were ONTIME and they wanted to be FASHIONABLY LATE.  I write this in capitals because that was how it was spoken to me by Only Daughter as she applied some more lip gloss in the dimness of the car.  So, being a good chauffeur and an even better mother, I waited until FASHIONABLY LATE arrived and they all tipped out.  Needless to say I played Bruce Springsteen "Born to Run" all the way home.  At full volume.

Saturday night was, in a way, an extension of Friday's disco run.  Only this time it was with a thirty something single friend/colleague of Absent Husband who was over from Canada on business and managed to escape in her Louboutin shoes to the Cotwolds for a couple of days.  We met her for dinner in her hotel in Lower Slaughter.  She was glamorous, I was Mumsy and Andrew admired the wine list.  It is so nice to meet young single people again, if only to live in hope that when they get married you may be invited to a wedding.  It's been so long since I went to one.  Now I only go to 50ths and 25th wedding anniversaries.    Her tales of singledom, boyfriends (all ice hockey players it would seem) and living in the Ritz in Toronto filled me with downright envy.  And yet I know I have a lovely family and that my skin isn't too flabby.  And besides, I wouldn't be able to walk in those Louboutins - even if I tried.

Today Absent Husband (who by the way isn't that absent these days) and I took ourselves off to RHS Wisley (see what I mean about being old).  Because he was driving, it meant that we took the SATNAV.  I have been to Wisley so many times but no - he doesn't trust me to get him there.  He has to use the SATNAV.  Well - she was wrong - so horribly wrong that I  have to laugh at the memory.  She took us down roads never even used by sheep.  She took us all around the houses and back again.  Did I say a word?  Of course not.  I have known about his love for the SATNAV ever since she came into our life two years ago.  I accept it and turn the other eye.  But maybe one day he'll forget to take her and will realise just how good my map use is.

Exams, birthdays and everything else that gets in the way...

It's been a while since I last posted.  I would like to say that I have written thousands of words and completed many chapters.  But no - it has just been life getting in the way.  I lost my working space for a while - Eldest Son was revising for mock AS exams and took over my table in the dining room.  I have managed to get it back now but I am not quite sure where last week went. 

Younger Son had his 15th birthday on Sunday.  Gosh - I can't quite believe he is 15. It is funny really.  You spend so long when they are very small wishing they were bigger (mainly so that you can get some sleep), and then when they get to be moody teenagers full of raging hormones, you suddenly wish they were cute 8 year olds again.  Oh well.  At least they can make you a cup of tea.  Even if it is only half a cup and too milky.

Still, the synopsis is nearly there and I have promised myself that any day now I will be submitting my romance novel for consideration. Promise.

Here's a pic of the birthday boy.

Someone left my boots out in the rain...

What?  Where has the rain come from?  I thought it was meant to be nice today!!  I left my boots out yesterday and when I went to walk Faithful Hound this morning I discovered them sitting there in soggy sadness.  Drat.  The spring in my step from yesterday became a squelchy one.  Squelchy - I quite like that word; think I will make it word for the day.

Song choice on my walk this morning was the soundtrack of the first Shrek movie (don't ask why).  I particularly enjoyed Smash Mouth's version of the Monkees "I'm a Believer".  All a bit random I know.

Diversion from writing tactics (in no particular order) included:

Doing the laundry
Going to pilates
Buying coffee in Starbucks and sizing up the cute guy in the window seat
Clearing out the drawer in the dresser
Driving Eldest Son to school at lunchtime to sit his A1 History mock
Looking at shopping outlets in Orlando where Absent Husband is

Book of the day:

"I'm With the Bears:  Short Stories from a Damaged Planet" published by Verso, with writers such as Margaret Attwood, T C Boyle and David Mitchell writing about environmental crisis.

Off to read what I wrote yesterday and then make a stew.

Vanessa x

Spring flowers, bees and a new stile

I have just enjoyed a wonderful Spring walk with Archie.  It is considerably warmer than this time last week and it is was heartening to see signs of Spring.  I got to thinking about the change of seasons and how much we rely on them to mark our way.  Seeing early spring flowers is warming to the heart, especially snowdrops.  There is something so fragile about them and despite the weather that is thrown at them they remain remarkably cheerful.  Here's a picture of some growing in my garden.



We now have crocus popping up everywhere and, remarkably, loads of bees busy pollinating. That's all a good sign and there was definitely a spring in my step as I walked Faithful Hound up into the woods and was confronted with a NEW STILE.  This was not there last week and is an unwelcome reminder that the farm nearby has put up serious fencing and clearly does not want to encourage walkers.  Still, Faithful Hound is not like Tigger for nothing and we made it over.

We are home now and he is in his basket.  I'm heading for my office.  Promise.

Day one in the laundry room

So. This is my first ever blog.  How exciting!  I got to thinking that it was about time I wrote one.  Why, you ask?  Who cares?  Well I guess I will find out soon enough. 

Today was in fact a classic example of my life and washing.  Put three loads on (luckily no socks involved) and then spent over an hour folding and putting away washing from the weekend.  My big questions is - where did it all come from?  I could  have sworn I spent Friday doing exactly the same thing and yet here I am again sorting through more washing.  Absent Husband is away (in Florida where washing can be dried instantly on the line), and there still seems to be as much washing as if there were five of us instead of four.

The trouble with being a writer is that you spend alot of time thinking about what you want to write but somehow end up being distracted from it all.  Not just with washing, but with life.  It is quite distressing to go to hear published authors speak and hear them telling us how they write all day non stop.  I wish!

I spent Saturday afternoon in London at the Red House Children's Book awards rubbing shoulders with the likes of Michael Morpurgo, Patrick Ness and Malorie Blackman.  (Yes - me - with Michael Morpurgo).  I felt like a mad rock chick stalking the authors as they left the podium and tried to make their escape.  There is something quite magnificent about seeing well known authors in the flesh and it does make you want to go home and lock yourself away for weeks on end whilst you churn out a best seller.  But the truth is as long as there is washing to do and socks to find, it might just take a little longer.

Vanessa xx

Chloe and Michael Morpurgo