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.