Monday, 28 January 2013

Fish-hooked Monday

Mildred and her
best friend Maud
Today I feel like I’ve been rudely jerked into Monday by a giant fish hook. There I was, all Sunday-ish and kind to small kittens, when all of a sudden – wham! Into Monday I go, without so much as a by-your-leave, or an excuse-me.

A fish-hooked look is one of startled scruffiness, I’ve decided. In fact, my inspiration today appears to have come from The Worst Witch’s Mildred Hubble. I am sporting a very similar plait, which is tied not only where you’d expect but also ‘in the middle’ with a ribbon snipped from a clothes item. Now, at 7am this seemed the height of sophisticated practicality. It was keeping unruly hair ruled and was the only thing to hand. But, in the harsh strip lighting of a corporate-ish office, why do I have a random piece of ribbon in my hair? I don’t know.

Another inspiring 7am idea was to pair suit trousers (a nod to respectability) with trainers that have a go-faster bright blue stripe. Fine, you may say, but I forgot I fretfully painted my fingernails varying shades of pink in a WHY-WON’T-MY-INTERNET-WORK! tedium crisis on Saturday. I’m also wearing a pink scarf. So, ignoring the plait thing, I look like I’ve almost thought about my look today – and then you glance down at my trainers and realise oh, actually, whatever stylistically matches is a pure lucky stumble.

This wasn’t going to be a blog post on being fish-hooked into Mondays. It was going to be a Very Intelligent article on Art, Science, and Deep Thoughts. So I’d like everyone to just imagine that for a minute instead.




I thank you.

Thursday, 17 January 2013

Britain’s changing high street

Lulled into and lolled out of a dark Christmas, January slid into view behind the scenes, the skies giving no clue as to the new colour of the year. But now, mid-way, we are smacked out of our glittery jumpers by minus temperatures, crystal piercing skies, and the news of one high street behemoth after another lying down by the bleached bones of Woolworths, eyes rolling, one last snort of steam from its nostrils, killed like in a bad sci-fi movie from that unseen virus – online.

Poor His Master’s Voice. For ninety-two years that little dog sat, ear cocked, listening intently to a gramophone. It never was upgraded to displaying a boom-box on its shoulder, never listened via gigantic headphones to walkmans, didn’t progress to being a digital projection of a cartoon dog street-dancing to an iPod. Like its logo, HMV also just sat, *squatted on every high street, usually on the dust-blown ashes of an independent record shop, belligerently happy with its position as ‘top dog’ for music, until it glanced around in shock and realised its customers were all shopping elsewhere.

But HMV was handy, especially once you waded through the racks of over-priced band t-shirts. I liked seeing what box-sets were on offer. A voucher from HMV was the stock Christmas present staple for all the blokes in my family (thankfully not this year – that honour has now been awarded to Costa vouchers since we are all hopelessly addicted to caffeine.) But what did I actually buy from HMV stores? Earphones. The odd film for £3. And occasionally there would be something to buy that I’d have no idea about unless I wandered the shop – such as the London on Film DVDs. But in recent years wandering the shop was not exactly a pleasure. The aisles were cramped. The fixtures and fittings dark. The music too loud. DVDs stacked on the floor, bunched on tables. The store started to resemble a chain pub over-run by a bring and buy sale, haunted by the ghost of Dixons staring down from the flat-screen televisions.

Blockbuster also gasped a final breath this week. Back in the day, we had a little local ‘Video City’. I used to don my rollerskates (quads), noisily whoosh down the pavement, and clunkily tip toe on the rubber stoppers all around the shop, trying to find something to watch that had actually been released in the last three years. Finding a new film was rarer than a Dodo feather. You had to put your name down on a list. Then along came Blockbuster. So bright! So much choice! Lots of sweets! My allegiance swiftly transferred, along with the rest of the community, and stayed throughout the transition from school to college to University. But then I found less time to watch films. Videos were cheap to buy. DVDs came down in price... especially if they were bought online.

HMV and Blockbuster should have put their heads together. They should’ve gone for a walk around the neighbourhood, popped into the latest trendy club, taken a casual stroll around an Apple store, recognised which way the wind was blowing. Unfortunately the online world is fairly stealthy. The activity is not heard. Yet those virtual shopping baskets are still being filled, and the invisible cash register is silently adding up for somebody.

It’s incredibly sad for the people who have lost their jobs. It always is. But perhaps this will be seen, one day, as a good thing for the high street. Maybe it will usher in an age of hand-made, of independents, of locally sourced, of craft. Maybe each high street will eventually become unique to its area again – a place people want to visit. The majority of people still like to go out and potter around. Shops should look at the demographic and footfall passing their door and think what can entice them in. The Internet will always be a factor, but online has different strengths to offline, and businesses that work that out will be onto a winner.

*I know this should say 'squatting'. But here, I rather like 'squatted'. Squatting sounds transient, like the store will straighten its knees at any moment and stride off. Squatted, on the other hand, sounds like it's bulkily blocked down on the street and put down concrete anchors.

Monday, 7 January 2013


And so I start the first (official) working week of the year with shiny blow-dried hair, a new scarf, and firmer ideas about what I want to achieve. I don’t make resolutions in the time-honoured ‘I Shalt Not Ever Again Eat Gorgeous Biscuits!’ kind of way (as that would be sheer January madness), but I do like to plant little virtual signposts in the months ahead. Sort of like this:

 I’d like to be more creative this year. There’s a lot I’d like to make happen, if I can, and a good part of that will mean recognising new opportunities, speaking to new people, and learning to trust in my own abilities (and not disparage the poor things at every opportunity... including just then. Darn it!)

Update on the novel rewrite

Slowly the evenings and weekends, the hours and minutes, the time squished out of the day to tap-tap-tap at the keyboard is repaying me with a stronger story. I downed tools on Sunday evening (far too late) and realised that there’s only 81 pages left to detangle / polish with Super Novel Shine (patented in 1872 by Mrs Paige Turner, no less.)


This is SO exciting!
 I’ve booked two days off in January to give the writing a time-boost and my main mission for the next six weeks is to finish and submit. Whoop! Once the submission process has started on that novel then I need to start plotting out my next idea. There are several lined up but each needs to be explored to see which pulls me in most. During that time I’ll also be looking for a new place to live. (Another whoop!) I am hoping to be in a new place by the time I start exploring ideas, but am slowly discovering life is not linear. For so many years I had the mindset that until ‘A’ happens then ‘B’ can’t happen, and so on and so forth, but that’s not necessarily the best way to live. In fact, it’s time to take advice from Yoda...

... and when he says it, you know it makes sense. Happy creative week all!