Say ‘surfing’, you’d think of the water,
in a suit that’s OK to get wet.
Yet dry you’ll stay, all’s a click away,
when surfing means surfing the net.
When I first moved in with my man i hadn’t lived away from ‘home’ before. There was something exciting about the idea of looking after my home and my man. Maybe it was because I felt like a grown- up, or was trying to prove that I was the best women to have at home. Whatever the reason I took to the role of little women with great relish.
This did not last very long.
I do not recall if it was days or weeks after the initial delight of living together, I do remember that we had not lived together that long though. I said to my beloved one evening, when we had got home from work, whether it was asking to much for him to put his dirty clothes in the wash-bin as opposed to all over the floor. His response was that he was making the chore ‘fun’ for me, making it ‘exciting’ for me while I was collecting the washing.
As you can imagine this went down with about as much cheer as a shot of chilli powder.
But instead of arguing, instead of calling him a pig, instead of throwing the washing basket at him. I simply smiled and carried on collecting the washing. But from that moment onward I stopped pairing his socks.
About a week later, when he was getting ready for work, he said to me ‘why don’t you pair the socks before you put them in here?’ You can imagine my answer ‘I’m just making it a bit fun for you, making your mornings a little more exciting….’
I’d love to say that was the end of it. That I had played him at his own game and won. That from that moment on he treated my like a Goddess.
But no it was not to be. He came home from work that evening a little later then usual, having made a detour to the shops. He had bought himself 12 pairs of identical black socks!
It became war, a strange smiling war.
Fast forward a few years with his clothes still discarded over the floor. He admits that he noticed a T-shirt had gone through the wash about 7 times yet he had not worn it!!! It would fall out of the piles of clothes he was putting away and he just didn’t bother picking it up. I would gather it up with other dirty clothes and through the wash it would go, again.
Well that he was a wake up call. I realised then that he would never change if I kept ‘enabling’ him to be a slob.
So I stopped ironing his clothes and only wash what was in the washing basket. I went so far as to pick up his pile of dirty clothes, hoover, then dump them back where he left them!
Clothes now get put in the wash- bin.
It may have taken a while but I won in the end.
Having decided how Friday evening is going to be spent, bottle of wine and a home made curry- heavenly bliss, I whizzed into a well known supermarket on my way home from work to gather the necessary.
Before continuing I feel I must share that this week has been a long week. First full week back at work since the Christmas break, and I have really felt it. Monday and Tuesday were a shock to the system, by Wednesday I was exhausted. Thursday was the day of the devil that I couldn’t forget quick enough. Friday, sweet lovable Friday, finally here and having denied myself any form of alcoholic ‘get me through’ all week I am really looking forward to an evening of good food and even better wine.
So I whizzed into the supermarket, gathered the chicken and the curry paste, the coconut milk and the naan breads. Pondered over whether to spend a few pound more and get a bottle of my favorite wine, or settle for a nearly as nice but cheaper bottle- the favorite won out, just in case you’re interested. And headed to the check out.
There were queue at each manned checkout, accompanied by an array of checkouts devoid of human companion, wasting space between the ques. I don’t mind queuing though, it gives me a chance to let my mind wander- imagine I’m on a beach somewhere. Queuing also provides the chance to watch people without having to worry anyone will think your staring at them- what else can you do in a queue but vacantly watch your surroundings?
The couple in front of me had a lot of shopping. While the lady at the checkout was scanning the shopping she came across an item that had no barcode, so she pressed her button, chatted to the customer, pressed the button, chatted some more, pressed it again and again. I could see the 2 managers chatting, stood at the end of an aisle oblivious to the lady’s required assistance. Eventually the checkout lady had to stand and wave a carrier bag to get their attention. Over one comes ‘is your button not working?’ he asked arriving at the checkout- ‘yes that’s why she needed you’ I mumbled giggling to myself.
He then proceeded to ignore the checkout lady while she explained the issue, instead he took some gizmo out of his pocket and started pressing buttons on the checkout to see if they worked on his gizmo!!
I laughed, I couldn’t help it. It took the customer to start outlining the issue, loudly, for his attention to be properly directed. By this point I was in danger of needing to escape to the loo, having laughed for so long my bladder was weakening. Finally he bustled off in an air of self importance.
I must say I admired the check out lady’s patience because when the manager returned he started questioning her how she had scanned the item as it had no barcode! Well Duh!! That was what she needed you for…
‘He’s new’ she explained to me when my shopping finally made its way down the conveyor belt towards her, ‘I’ve been here 30 years,’ she continued ‘but of course he knows much more than me.’
I have found, within my various roles, that whenever there was a new manager they always had to change something, anything. Regardless of whether the change was needed or not, they had to introduce something to put their stamp on their role. I remember a lot of changes being reversed!
I have mind maps, charts and endless scribbles on paper. All of which are my attempts at understanding my characters and their story. I’m plotting, you see, plotting a story that I’ve been daydreaming about over the last few years.
At first I tried to write it straight out, wham! knock out what you’re thinking girl- I produced less than a paragraph.
‘How could this be?’ I’d ask myself, I know whats going to happen, yet it simply wouldn’t appear on the page. So I tried writing snippets, different scenes, different parts. But each of these ‘snippets’ led down a path that refused to join to the path of the other snippets. Aggggg my head started to ache from my tearing at my hair- it’s all here in my head- I just can’t get it to there, on the page. Do you ever feel like that when writing?
Now? I’m ignoring the computer and all the software it has. Back to pen and paper, my mind maps are my attempts to find where the characters connect, how they connect and affect each other, the charts have bullet points of the events of the first few chapters. Scribbles! I have scribbles galore, parts of a conversations, bits of action, a weather event connected to overwhelming emotion felt by my main character. I have all this yet still am struggling to get the actual story started.
Am I trying to force it? Should I let it brew for longer? Do I need to plot further ahead then I have? How much in advance should I know the characters actions? Should any actions be a surprise to me, the author?
Some days I want to throw it away, other days, cradle it like my baby.
I’d love to know what you would say, what your answers to these questions would be.
I’m Jane Ayre, but of course I’m not really… I’m Katie and I’m hiding behind the veil of anonymity within this mind boggling virtual world! I’m a mid- 30’s mother of one who has recently graduated from the Open University with a BA (Hons) in English Language and Literature.
I’m here because I want to write and be read. I’m hiding behind a fake name because I fear my writing will be terrible! I will be honest, I am somewhat clueless within this virtual world. Lost would perhaps be a better word! I am on Facebook yet don’t really ‘get it’ and I have managed 2 posts on Twitter! I started my blog about 6 months ago and since then have posted the grand total of 3 posts! It has no direction- I don’t use it as a journal, I have a beautiful hand stitched writing journal that I write in daily- it is more a place to dump thoughts. Reading back over my sparse posts I’ve noticed that they tend to focus on family- life and being a mother, I guess that is the direction I’m moving in (albeit subconsciously!)
I’m waffling, my apologies. I guess I should add that I’ve tried to find other blog posts to read however have struggled to navigate round the ‘blogging world’… another reason I’m here 🙂
Anyway 2015 and I’ve posted in the first week- that’s a good start…