Various ramblings by the small hobbit

My last day!  I can hardly believe that I actually managed to write something vaguely about me for thirty days.  Even more unbelievable is the fact that people read and commented.  I've never blogged before, so it was a completely new challenge and one which, surprisingly, I enjoyed.  It's been good to put into words thoughts that have been vaguely floating round in the soup that passes for a brain in my head.

And before you all give a concerted sigh of relief - I'm going to carry on.  Not every day, because finding something to write about would soon prove very difficult, but I'm aiming for five times a fortnight.

I've enjoyed reading other people's entries over the last month and am very grateful to Drayce and Snail for getting me into this blogging lark.  I'm not sure it will affect how much I write - my blog entry gets written when I get home (after checking emails etc etc) and fic writing tends to get done later at night, when it's quiet.  But the discipline of writing something every day is one I do hope to continue with.

So, thank you for reading, and if there's still something you would like to know, ask and I'll answer it one day.

We went to listen to OH's singing teacher doing a recital this morning.  It's not the sort of thing that I'd instantly decide I had to go to (see yesterday's post), nor is it high on my 'I'm glad you suggested going to that' list, but OH was going so I was happy to go too.  It was an enjoyable recital - he's a good singer, a counter-tenor.  Not as good as Andreas Scholl, who is on my list to hear live one day, but the tickets were definitely cheaper.  Having said that I've just discovered that Scholl is performing in Birmingham next January; possible Christmas present for OH?

I've heard a couple of tenors sing live - Joseph Callejo in the Royal Festival Hall in January and Andrea Boccelli at the NEC last November.  Boccelli was amazing - tickets were massively expensive, but for a one-off it was an experience I was so glad to have.

But this wasn't going to be a post about singers, but about songs.  OH is a tenor and has been singing in choirs that perform traditional choral music.  We have an agreement - unless I really enjoy the particular piece(s) of music I don't go to their concerts.  I like Verdi's Requiem - because, yes, it's loud.  He likes a lot of early music, which really isn't my sort of thing.  At this morning's recital I enjoyed the two Italian songs, the Schubert was alright (very German) and there was a lot of Britten.  It's the centenary of his birth - and I don't like Britten.  The more I hear, the less I like (apart from The Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra).

Anyway the Gloucester Choral Society are performing the Britten War Requiem in November.  And OH isn't, because he's singing with the Cotswold Savoyards who are doing a musical called "Jekyll and Hyde".  I think I shall enjoy that much more.

It was Games Night tonight. 14 Brownies and 2 leaders.  But, despite still having smaller numbers, the girls really enjoyed themselves.  Of course, if you're playing a game which reduces the number who can take part, the last one being 'out' each time, then fewer players means less time sitting out.

So we played Pink Knickers, Port and Starboard and Fishes (this week there were no pilchards, we had herring, prawns and kippers) and then in between active games there was a paper and pencil game.  In their sixes they had to find a word relevant to brownies for each letter of the alphabet.  It meant thinking outside the box and that was obviously hard.  Some sixes did better than others.  One of the girls from the winning six thought there should be a prize for them - no, we major on the taking part bit of the game.

They were all stumped by a number of letters, although Q was easy, as there were quizzes and queen's diamond jubilee.  We ourselves were stumped with X, but in the past year we had done Yoga and Zumba so there were lots of possibilities.

And since I'd had a day that included showing a decorator round so he could quote for some work, booking a service for an Aga, speaking to a removals firm, providing details of the comparative running costs of our vehicles, and trying to speak to a debt collection agency (8 minutes of "your call is important to us" leading to a snotty email) it was good to do something totally different.  And seeing girls who, when they started wouldn't even join in with games, grinning broadly as they take part has to be a plus.

How many hippos can you get in a mini?
Two in the front, two in the back.
How many giraffes can you get in a mini?
None, it's full of hippos.
How do you get two whales in a mini?
Straight down the M4 and across the Severn Bridge.

This, of course, works better as a verbal joke.  scfrankles asked yesterday about the comedy I like.  So today's brief ramble will be on that subject.  If you've read yesterday's entry, you'll know I like Morecambe & Wise.  Some of their lines still make me smile; Eric, hearing a police car racing past the house, "He won't sell many ice creams at that speed."  I saw the musical Top Hat this summer and one of the routines reminded me very clearly of Morecambe & Wise and Glenda Jackson.

I like classic comedies, like Dad's Army.  I don't like comedies where the laughs come because one character consistently makes fun and puts down another.  Which could be said about Dad's Army, but whatever happens in this way within the platoon, as soon as an outsider dares to say or do something everyone rallies round.  The characters aren't one dimensional - they all have their foibles, but they all have their strengths.

I like humour within serious plays.  Shakespeare, when well done, has masses of it.  It provides relief and contrast and it reflects life.  I have a quirky sense of humour and I will often use humour to break the tension in a situation.

I like verbal sparring, when it doesn't take itself over seriously.  I don't think swearing is funny, and if that's what a programme/comedian relies on then they quickly lose me.

If you want to see what else amuses me, then the following post began with the ACD Holmes story of The Red Circle.  It's currently heading through the Suez Canal en route for the Indian Ocean.  There was a rat ...

And I did once stick Inspector Greg Lestrade in a giraffe onesie, but I blame eloquy for that.  Surprisingly effective

It's been raining and grey nearly all of today.  Not just the odd shower, but constant rain - sometimes just drizzle, sometimes heavy but never really stopping.  Summer has ended and it feels as if the grey clouds above are sitting on my shoulders.

I'm normally a fairly bouyant person, but today is getting to me.  I could be all British and blame it on the weather, and whilst I'm sure it has a part I don't think it's the whole reason.  It's ironic to be mourning the end of summer when autumn is my favourite season, but to me autumn is a time of new possibilities - activities that have been in abeyance start up again; we go on holiday in less than a month.

I could blame it on having to go clothes shopping today because I needed new work clothes.  But still, two pairs of black trousers from M&S Outlet shop can't be bad.  There's no point going all posh when I have to reach into cupboards to investigate leaking taps.

I think part of it is because there are things I'm supposed to be doing and which rely on other people doing their bit.  And they haven't.  Which means that I've got to sort it out.  Which makes me wonder if I want to do these things sufficiently to do the sorting out - one of them I'm not sure about - if I don't I'm the only one who misses out, which is okay.  The other one is the one that's got to me and I need to take a step back, because at the moment I can't do anything.  And if, in the next week or so, I make a point of how dissatisfied I am with the situation then I need to be prepared to say how committed I can be.

Right, rambling to you lot has helped clear my brain, so I'm off to eat chocolate cake and drink wine.  Until tomorrow.

So I signed up to the smallfandomfest Big Bang.  Which means I have to write 10,000 words of Lewis fic.  To some of those reading this would be a piece of cake.  To me this is still going to be a major achievement, as it will be the second longest fic I've written, and although I'm writing 7,000 words at times now that's still almost half as much again.

And I haven't a clue what to write.  Okay, yes, I shall go for casefic.  There will be Lewis and Hathaway buddy cop action.  There will probably be some Lewis and Hobson happy to be together, but not necessarily specific.  Innocent will glare, Hathaway will snark, Lewis will triumph over the baddies.  But I have no plot.  I have no interesting little side scenes.  I have nothing.  I have a vague idea that either Lewis or Hathaway will be away for a few days at the start and there will be a telephone conversation, but where he, whichever he is is, will be and what they talk about remains a mystery.

So if anyone has any suggestions, please leave them in the comments.  I do not promise to use all of them, I do not promise to use any of them, but you never know.  And I'm happy to consider bizarre suggestions; in the past I have included both the Synod of Whitby and Przelwaski's Horse in a fic, although not at the same time.

First things first: flawedamythyst has written a John/Sherlock plumber AU based in a coffee shop, which is hilarious and proves that I was quite right when I said that you can get away with almost anything if you make me laugh.  Read it here.

I had thought of writing about work, but despite my best attempts there's nothing really interesting to say.  I'm back battling the beastly budgets, relieved only by the necessity of collecting an over heating vacuum cleaner and finding an egg for biscuit making.

So, favourite films.  I much prefer theatre to films, but I'll try for three.  My all time favourite film is "Casablanca".  The plot, the suspense, the relationships, it all comes together so well.  I tear up every time the "Marseillaise" is sung.  Despite the number of times I've seen it I always sit there at the end wondering how it will work out.  So many classic lines.

Secondly, I shall go for "Dumbo".  After all, who can resist "Pink Elephants on Parade".  And singing along to "When I see an elephant fly".

Lastly, I shall choose "Gosford Park".  Lots of great actors, an interesting plot, not a great film maybe, but one that appeals to me.  Charles Dance and Maggie Smith for starters.

Kestrel337 asked about my perfect day in my least favourite season.  I've thought long and hard on this and come up with a partial answer.  The easy part was identifying my least favourite season, which is winter.  (My favourite is autumn, followed probably by summer and then spring, although deciding between those two is quite hard).

But I found it difficult to think of a perfect day in winter.  I don't care for cold and wet and snow is fine for about 10 minutes, after which I will have built my snowman and become the afore-mentioned cold and wet.  So instead here are two brief scenes.

The first scene is set at Christmas, but not the Dickensian giant family party with masses of food and bonhomie.  For me it's last thing on Christmas Eve: everyone else has gone to bed and I will switch the lights out, leaving just the lights on the Christmas tree.  Underneath the tree are all the unopened presents, which in years gone by would have included stockings.  (When very small my son saw a Christmas card with the stockings hanging from the mantlepiece - he insisted that was what we should do and the tradition remained.  And strangely enough the children never got up really early, in fact there were years when I was the first one up.)  And I will stand and enjoy the peace and stillness.

The second scene could be any time from the end of December through January.  On a miserable day I've gone to a matinée performance at a theatre.  As you will have gathered I love going to the theatre at any time, but there is a special feeling during those winter days when there is a sense that they will last for ever and nothing exciting happens.  To spend an afternoon being taken out of myself, conveyed wherever the performance takes me and then to head outside afterwards to find that it's already dark, but to still be carrying a little of the magic inside me is very special.

We went up to Stratford-upon-Avon again today, this time to see Candide, a new play by the RSC writing in residence Mark Ravenhill, inspired by the book of the same name by Voltaire.  This time we were in the Swan Theatre, rather than the main RSC Theatre.  The Swan is smaller, more intimate and in a sense more like an old theatre with the design of the balconies.  It also has bench seats rather than individual seats.  Like the RST is a thrust stage and we were on the side in the second row, so close to the action.

It was an interesting play, and I think it will take a while to properly absorb all that happened.  The play begins in the time that the original book was set, but then moves up to date, back into Voltaire's time and the final act is set about 10 years in the future.  It was an interesting concept, which I'm sure would bear further thought, I'm just not sure I'm going to give it though.

The costuming helps a great deal.  The first act is set as a play written from Candide's journal and performed to Candide to bring him out of the depression he has fallen into.  All the "actors" in the "play" are dressed in costumes made from the same blue and white patterned material which pulls the action together extremely well.

My favourite part of the play: when Candide leaves El Dorada on a sheep powered by children's balloons.  I was very glad I wasn't Candide being winched all the way to the theatre ceiling; he may have had a harness on, but it was an awfully long way up.

We go to Stratford again next Saturday, when we shall see the same company.

Today I had a post-audit meeting with the accountant, a management meeting and a finance meeting to discuss what we are going to do with the issues raised by the first meeting.  Consequently my brain is fried and I have done no work.

Which meant that I looked back through the questions I was asked on Day 4 to find another topic to write about, and finally selected another one of Drayce's questions.  Incidentally, if anyone else has something they would like me to ramble on, do please ask; I still have 60% of this meme to complete (did I mention I've been in finance meetings most of the day?)

Not that my writing process is very exciting: I start at the beginning, work my way to the end and then stop.  I may go back and change wording, or, if I realise that there's a problem with the plot I'll make adjustments, but essentially my first words will be at the start of the story and I will write on through.  If I'm stuck at any point I will pause until the wording comes, or I've sorted the next bit of the action in my head.  I cannot skip forward and write a later section and then return to fill in the gap.

That's not to say that I don't have future sections in my head, but they will not be committed to word doc/paper.  I can have the next scene clearly in my mind, but if I can't work out how to get my characters to that scene then they will not be moving.

I visualise everything, not necessarily a blow by blow account, but in the same way that I watch a television programme, I can see my protagonists moving around.  Which means that if I write in a comment on someone's work that I can see something happening I mean exactly that - in my head I can see the events.  I am a very visual learner.  You can explain something to me verbally, but unless you give me the time to visualise it, you will be wasting your breathe.

I have a half hour drive to work every day, so I do a lot of plotting whilst on the journey.  We have an exercise bike and I've found that's excellent for untangling knotty plot problems whilst cycling along - and there's no risk of falling off or getting rained on.  Sometimes if I wake in the night I'll bash ideas around, but that's more for getting possibilities for what happens next, rather than specific plot points.  And of course there are occasions when the characters have their own opinions - I still remember one of mine suddenly deciding he was hungry and sticking a baked potato in the microwave.

I am assuming that this was the sort of thing Drayce was expecting.  Alternatively, I write directly onto word doc - I have RSA Stage 1 Typewriting and can touch type, an achievement which has proved so much more useful than I imagined when I went to evening classes at Hammersmith College.  When I'm on a train (and I nearly always do write when I'm on a train - either that or fall asleep) I write in pencil in a notebook.  The disadvantage is then having to type it up, when my handwriting has been rendered more illegible than usual by train bumps.