Sleep tight...or not.

Okay, so the decaf tea before bed-time doesn’t work either. Neither does the hot camomile, catnip, anise or fennel tea, hot milk, drinking alcohol, not drinking alcohol. Nothing helps – exercising during the day, not exercising, milky drinks, earplugs, a fan, a mask, reading, listening to music. We invested in a Tempra mattress, (the memory foam mattress developed originally for NASA.) It cost a fortune and is very comfortable in a sinking in, sliding, body moulding kind of way. But it doesn’t help the sleep problem.

I never used to have any difficulty sleeping and it’s not actually getting off to sleep that’s a struggle. I’ve developed a habit over the last couple of years - that’s what it is - it’s simply a habit, but I can’t get out of it. I stir in the night. My brain clicks into action ahead of my eyes that are desperately willing themselves to stay shut. But the brain whirrs and whirrs until I have a ‘virtual list’ of worries, two sides of A4 paper, and there’s not a chance of getting back to sleep. By this time, my eyes won’t stay shut, and will continue to roll open like a Tom and Jerry cartoon until I get up.

Top of the list at 2.30 am today:-
- Amending my internet shopping before the 1pm deadline the day before delivery.
- GCSE Science (my eldest is in the throes of exams.)
- My Take That tickets (when will Ticketmaster send them out.)
- Editorial on the Village Newsletter.
- The opening sentence of my novel.
- The plot of a short story I’m working on.
- Chase the electrician.

This isn’t an exhaustive list but enough to get me out of bed, turn the PC on, make a cup of tea (herbal, of course,) and scribble down yet another ‘To do’ list. If not, I would only lay in bed with my Victor Meldrew head on, becoming more agitated and peeved at not being able to sleep, tossing and turning watching the illuminated clock on the barn ceiling flash at me, and waiting for ‘Puffer Billy’ by the side of me to snore so I can brain him.

Try counting sheep, I hear you say. Counting bouncy, little hyperactive sheep leaping over a fence is never going to work for me. I could hear the little buggers bleating on the field in the middle of the night when I got up. Take it from me, counting sleeping sheep is likely to be much more effective, only not for me.

Everyone I speak to about my problem has a suggestion. Here are some you probably won’t have heard of before:-

Sleep with your head facing north - And unless you have a particularly unusual body, your feet facing south. This aligns your body with the magnetic field of the planet, bringing your own energies into harmony with those of the Earth. Bizarre but apparently true.
Don't Watch TV or Read Before Going to Bed - opposite advice to watching TV or reading before going to bed.
Toe Wiggling – aids relaxation. Hmmm.
Stomach Rubbing – Evidently soothes down the digestive system and helps to bring about a deeper relaxation. An extra benefit is that it will help you to lose weight by improving the functioning of the digestive system. As if.
Progressive relaxation - Feel your feet. Feel the weight of your feet. Feel your feet relax and sink into the bed. Feel your lower legs. Feel the weight of your lower legs. Feel your lower legs relax and sink into the bed. Feel your knees. Feel the weight of your knees. Feel your knees relax and sink into the bed... you get the idea. Mentally scan your body. If you find any place that's still tense, relax it and let it sink into the bed. By the time you feel your hands, you’ll be bored out of your head and glad to get to sleep.
Deep Breathing – in through your nose and out through your mouth. Or is it the other way around?
Visualize Something Peaceful
Visualize Something Boring
Quiet Ears - an ancient Eastern meditation as well as a method of falling asleep. Lie on your back with your hands behind your head, fingers interlocked, and your palms cupping the back of your head. Get as relaxed as possible (it may take a little while to get used to.) Place your thumbs in your ears so that you are pressing the outer flap of your ear and blocking the entrance to the ear canal. Lie quietly and listen for a high-pitched sound that you will gradually hear inside your head. Lay for ten – fifteen minutes, concentrating on that sound. Then put your arms to your sides and go to sleep. (Don't worry about the ringing in your ears – its natural.)
Sex - Alone or with others.
Imagine Coloured animals - Sounds silly but it is supposed to work (just not for me.) Visualize animals in the wrong colours. For example, purple cow, green sheep, red pig, and so on. After coming up with a colour and animal combination, actually visualize it and then I move on to the next one. Coming up with the combinations and then trying to picture the animal is supposed to keep the mind occupied and distracted from whatever stressful thoughts were keeping you awake. Or it will bore you to sleep quickly.
Imagine It's Time to Get Up – works every time.

You see, when I told you I’d tried everything I wasn’t lying. Unfortunately, for me, there are only two options left to try. The first is to buy myself a bottle of ‘Night Nurse’ and have twenty mls every evening before bedtime for the next week in the hope that I can knock myself out and break the habit. It’s as good as sleeping tablets and saves a trip to the doctors.

Alternatively, I could give in to it. When I wake up I don’t lie there and toss and turn. Only use my bed for sleep and sex. The trouble is, there’s not much of the latter either, because I’m too knackered.

Good luck! Pleasant dreams.


Until another day
Bye for now
x

We're not worthy

Before you read this, I want you to think of ten positive things about yourself. You will see why by the end of my blog.
~~~~~~
A friend gave me a beautiful silk notebook as a gift, about five years ago. The cover is rich, reddish-brown, almost the colour of polished copper with a ‘framed’ panel of sinuous, vertical meandering flowers and acanthus leaves embossed in the middle of the front outer cover. For five years, it has lived on top of my piano alongside my metronome. It stays there, gathering dust, each parchment page as virginal and empty as when it was hand bound. It wasn’t until a conversation with a friend, that I realised why.

Apparently, her sister has a gift for writing poetry and in an attempt to encourage and inspire, F bought her a luxurious notebook for her ideas and notes. After a few weeks, she discovered her sister hadn't used it - the reason, her sister told her, was because it was “too lovely to write in...”

Following lengthy discussions with her sibling and others, F concluded that her sister didn't feel that she was ‘worthy’ of the notebook. It was as if somehow, it was 'too good' and too beautiful for her to write in - that her writing did not measure up to the paper.

I smiled as F recounted the tale and told her about my own notepad - how I hadn't defaced it for fear that my writing would spoil it. It was too beautiful to waste it on my scribbling.

As if to further illustrate the point, I remembered this tale whilst clearing my Nan’s house after she died. Nan always liked to keep a pair of slippers, dressing gown and nightdress ‘for best,’ just in case she had to go into hospital. Why then had she squirreled seven dressing gowns, ten nightdresses, four pairs of slippers and three bottles of Oil of Ulay? In her wardrobe, I found rail after rail of lovely clothes, hardly worn and at least ten garments still with the labels on. On the top of her dressing table sat a whole collection of Helena Rubenstein Apple Blossom – four un-opened spray perfumes, matching soaps, talc, and shower gel - all hardly used. Mind you, I can't talk - I still have a hardly used bottle of Coco Chanel eau de parfum that cost my husband a small fortune when he bought it nearly seven years ago. Well, I only wear it on special occasions-maybe his work Christmas party and my birthday.

So why don’t we indulge and use or spoil ourselves if we have nice things or are given lovely gifts? I feel sure that F’s theory is correct-it is about our feeling of ‘self worth.’

Self worth is different to self-esteem. Self-esteem can go up and down. When I was a Bank Manager, for example, if my Branch and staff achieved our monthly sales targets and received praise, recognition and maybe even financial reward, I would feel good about myself. When we did not, I felt terrible. Self-worth is something you are born with and not changeable. You are worthwhile and have a value – it can’t be taken away from you. You can’t lose it. But you can lose sight of it and forget your own value.

Our feeling of self worth comes from the skills we possess; our achievements and successes, and status including our financial position and even our physical attributes. When we find ourselves not measuring up to society’s criteria for 'worthiness’, we can suffer serious consequences, and our self-worth depreciates dramatically. Of course, nothing eats at self-worth faster than regret, anger or fear. Some of us encounter more than others. For example if we are in an unsatisfactory relationship or have a domineering parent.

From my own experience, the pursuit of perfection and approval steadily drove me further from peace and self-confidence. As a child, I had it drummed in to ‘love my neighbour as myself,’ and not to brag or be selfish. As a teenager, there was a tendency to minimise accomplishments to avoid appearing conceited. By the time, I was an adult I always put the ‘neighbour’ first and had developed a kind of false humility to avoid looking prideful. One of Workaholic Hubby’s biggest criticisms of me is that I ‘put myself down.’ He says I am always doing it, but I can’t help it. I don’t even realise I’m doing it sometimes. Maybe somewhere along the road in my sub-conscious – that perhaps I stopped liking myself, and started to believe I did not deserve anything good - Self-esteem suffered while self-worth was forgotten.
Now back to the question posed in the opening line of my blog. Well, how easily did you reach your target of ten positives about yourself? Would the task have been easier if I had set you ten negatives? I know mine would.

The reality is that loving your neighbour as you would yourself begins with you. You must love and value yourself if you are to love others. You have to respect yourself and acknowledge your own self-worth. You must take care of YOU so that you can love and help your neighbour. Be kind to yourself for it does not make you selfish.


Until another day
Bye for now

x



Preseli Mags said...
Yes, it was really difficult to think of ten positives. Negatives would be much easier, which is very sad really. That's a very thought-provoking blog, Angel. I know exactly what you mean about the beautiful notebook - I have a very lovely silver photograph album that I have never put any pictures in for the same reason. I think I'll take that as homework!

Thursday, September 18, 2008


Faith said...
Excellent blog Angel, and I dived straight in without thinking of 10 positives as I knew it would take me ages! It is similar to another good blog I read recently by, I think, Fire Byrd. I am just starting to realise that at over 50 years of age, I might as well use my stuff as there is no better 'best' than now! Your nan's collection of nighties, olays etc reminded me of exhub2's mother - when she died we cleared out loads of unused goodies. I think she was a hoarder because she had come from such a poor Irish family - no shoes to go to school in - that she couldnt believe that she could now have things. It's very sad. Let's all who read this blog use something 'good' or 'special' that we have been 'saving' this week!

Thursday, September 18, 2008


Elizabethd said...
Well written Angel.

Thursday, September 18, 2008


LittleBrownDog said...
Very thoughtful blog, Angel, and so true. I think I got up to about five positives before I got stuck, and I know just what you mean about the beautiful notebooks and barely used bottles of perfume - I'm just the same.

Friday, September 19, 2008


snailbeachshepherdess said...
Ouch - cringeing well here - three gorgeous water colour sketch pads kept flat under the matress for goodness sake....now what do I do?
Very thought provoking blog Angel.

Friday, September 19, 2008


Working mum said...
Thought provoking! I came up with four, not good, eh?

But, I think I score Brownie points for this one - I have some beautiful Royal Doulton Crystal wine glasses that we received as a wedding present; I do not save them for best, we use them all the time as I think that is the way to appreciate them. Will that redeem me?

Saturday, September 20, 2008


Arcadian Advocate said...
Yours is an interesting blog that I first found today.

Saying 'No' is a vital tool easier to do as we get older, and I am sorry about your Gran, we too have lost someone this year and it is still sharp and raw.
However, the list of 10 things will need to be thought about . First attempt:
kind, empathetic, reliable, knowledgable, funny [I guess this depends on your sense of humour], writes a lot, faithful, loyal, honest and well completely myself. Will that do?

Do please come visit my blog, I am rather new to all this: http;//arcadianadvocate.wordpress.com

Hope to see you soon and enjoyed your blog.

Saturday, September 20, 2008


Marianne said...
Hi Angel,
Thanks for visiting my blog.

When my life collasped, we lost our home, car and finally the marriage itself disappeared. It taught me to live every day in the present and not to assume that you will have tomorrow what you have today.
Enjoy it while you can.

Monday, October 06, 2008


CAMILLA said...
A wonderful written post Angel.

I have two notebooks that friend has given me as gifts, and they still remained untouched, so I have learned a lesson there.

I have to agree.... I could easily write negatives rather than positives. Totally agree about love thy neighbour.

xx

Monday, October 06, 2008


Tattie Weasle said...
I confess I have a beautiful notebook that I have not written in as well - hating to despoil it.
Very thought provoking...

Wednesday, October 08, 2008


angel said...
Lovely post,i also have a notebook that i "may spoil" if i use it, your post has really made me think.
Thank you.

Friday, October 10, 2008


Fennie said...
Only just caught up. You would not believe how much of this I recognise.
The trick is perhaps to live life at right angles to events and not in parallel with them. If you live in parallel, it's like being on a wave - you are up and down, up and down, with every bit of praise of criticism that comes your way. But if you live your life at right angles you can become detached and realise that how you feel about yourself is how you decide to feel and not how events make you feel. Very Buddhist and Very Difficult

Sunday, October 12, 2008


toady said...
Only just caught up with this and wow did it ring bells. Being the youngest of 4 and a girl I think praise was a bit thin on the ground in order 'not to spoil me'. Now find it very hard to accept it if any comes my way and can't take criticism either.
Funny lot aren't we.

Monday, October 20, 2008


Sally's Chateau said...
Lovely blog, I too have a pristine notebook which I hate to 'spoil' and wise words indeed about valueing yourself.

Monday, October 27, 2008


Exmoorjane said...
I tend to dive in and use my notebooks and then feel I have 'let them down' by not writing good stuff in them. So maybe I'm one step on but still not really there!
I loved this - chimed a chord for sure.
jxxx

Quiet Mousie in Happy Land

Tuesday was my absolute favourite night of the year-The Christmas play, this year-“Happy Christmas in Happy Land,” a charming play written by Quiet Mousies teacher all about a school who are visited by ‘Hector the Inspector,’ an OFSTED Inspector who wants to close the school down.
We have been rehearsing the script in our house for nearly three weeks, my youngest cast as ‘Pork Chop’ and also ‘Mr Slack’ who turns into Santa Claus (you have to be there really.) What amazed me the most was how the children’s personalities have developed and their confidence grown over the last year. His class of twenty children, aged seven to nine years old consummately acted and spoke out loud and clearly to the back of the room and beyond into the car park-a ‘proper’ presentation with oodles of humour and fun woven into a feel good storyline...and there was even a nativity scene in there too.

However the best gag of the show was when Mrs Tick the Teacher was trying to get her husband, Mr Tick out of bed one morning-
Mrs Tick: Henry! Henry! Are you out of bed yet?
Mr Tick: Yes, I’m out of bed, but I don’t really feel like going to school today.
Mrs Tick: But you have to Henry!
Mr Tick : Oh, dear. Why do I have to?
Mrs Tick: Because you’re the headmaster Henry, that’s why!”

Diddley um bum bum.


So until another day
Bye for now

Meet the Totleigh 16

DAY ONE
My first day of the Arvon Course does not start well.
Once shown to home for the next six days I locked the door of my room and waited nervously for the right time to come out. Half an hour later the main door opened and in burst a profusion of accents and raucous laughter, possibly a group of friends judging by the noise. What if they don’t like me? What if they all have English degrees? What if they already have a book published?
“Is someone in there?” A soft Irish Accent asked the group. Cue me. Maybe not. Better had. Cue time to pop out of my little hole, introduce myself, look them all up and down then scurry back into my room. They all look glam and ‘arty.’ What if they are journalists? What if I’m out of my depth?
I have turned into a mouse. It is time to circulate or I won’t last the day.

Into the great barn, our class and common room for the duration and everyone is younger than me. And more cosmopolitan-there are two Australians, a Brazilian, one of the two freelance journalists has come from Oslo, two girls from publishing, students studying English or creative writing-one is a model and dating a famous Aussie Rock Star. Our tutors arrive -Louise Dean is beautiful and boho chic. Patrick Neate, his quietness hinting at his eccentricity, was wearing a woolly hat and nervously pulling it down over his head constantly trying to cover his face. The last of our group joins us.
“Hey, that looks like Gilbert O’Sullivan!” I said to the girl next to me who looked at me like I was her Grandma.

It was not Gilbert O’Sullivan. It was Donovan ,the Donovan. The British Bob Dylan.
They do say that truth is stranger than fiction.
Here was the Totleigh 16.

The intros helped me relax a little. Everyone was nervous, self deprecating, humble about their writing to date and their expectations of the course. I was the only one with 90,000 words of my novel in hand. Contrary to what I thought, none of them knew each other prior to the course. We all felt much the same and that, along with the promise of tea and biscuits, stopped me from fleeing there and then.

And so to work. Exercises, one after the other, I could not do any of them. Every ounce of confidence escaped from my pores. Panic set in-totally unreasonable panic and self deformation.
“Take ten minutes to come up with.....”
Blank paper. Blank brain. The more I heard the others pens scribbling on their notepads the worse it got. Don’t cry. The mouse disappeared back into her hole by 10.30pm and barely slept a wink.

DAY TWO
It was time to give myself a good talking to. I won’t give in. I have been looking forward to this course so long. It is good to have some time to myself. I paid £550 for this.

Progress as I actually enjoyed the dialogue work reading it aloud to the group. Everyone was charming and kind which helped.
My safe room still pulls and gets the better of me by 11pm but not wishing to be beaten, I try to do the exercises I struggled with yesterday.

DAY THREE
Work about plots, building characters, weaving the magic in. This is when the light bulbs started to go on. This is what I am missing in my writing. The lack of self belief kicked in again as I sat down to my scheduled one to one tuition with Louise Dean, fully expecting to see huge swathes of red crossings out all the first three chapters of The Orange Man which I dared to let her read.
“There are some lovely touches. There are times when you really ‘see’ people and we have a taste of their pain. It is as if you know what they are thinking. I love your characters.”
You don’t know the half I wanted to say.
“Take out the tortured stuff. Lighten it up. Use more humour. You are funny.”
Me.
"Trust in your dialogue. Use more-especially your use of the vernacular-it is magic! Show don’t tell. That is what you do best. The little pictures you paint are wonderful!”
Did she say wonderful?
“Cut every sentence that does not progress the plot.”
Hmmm. I’m not good at paring down words.
“Be brutal.”
Ok. I get the idea. Some things will just take me time.

Louise Dean, winner of the Betty Trasker Prize for her first Novel told me that I should stop being so hard on myself. (Ok, ok. I know.) The basics are there in my manuscript. It is time now to start the crafting of it...Nuts and bolts can be learnt-from the course, books, internet, courses, I can read someone else’s book that is in the same genre as mine and learn from how they do it.

Lots of character work. I made a promise to myself to not freeze up-must ‘have a go’ at everything and read it out, even the rubbish. Our guest speaker in the evening was Bidisha. Crikey to have a book published at 16. Wow.
At least I have her enthusiasm.
All I want to do is get out my lap top and start the re-write.

DAY 4
Now I am starting to really enjoy it. A wonderful day. At first I was nervous about tutorial with Patrick especially when he tells me he’s not sure about the story-
“It is an archetypal love story. Therefore you must do something different if it is going to get you a book deal. Make it funny-you are really funny. You do tell a very good story and the way you paint the scenes is very vivid. ‘Show don’t tell’-that must be your mantra.”
How strange-the the second person to tell me that in two days. I don’t do funny.
Maybe Milla could ‘ghost write’ for me?

In the evening we are treated to Donovan and his ‘friend’ Kelly, (his beautiful green guitar) doing a 'minstrel' act. Amazing. I am in heaven with the music until 1.30am.
Still on a high, my laptop winks at me when I get back to the room and I stay up writing until nearly 3am.

DAY FIVE
“Let’s talk about getting published.” Patrick says to the class. We hear about book deals and ‘another world’ of publicity and bidding, launch parties and how Waterstones have the stranglehold on publishers. We do the synopsis of our novel that we will send to an agent. This is in fact more difficult than the 90,000 words of the novel done this far.
Setting free your imagination.... Patrick has never been to New Orleans. How on earth could he have writtenTwelve Bar Blues?
"Use your imagination" says the winner of the Whitbread Prize like it is easy.
"Look up the facts on Wikipedia and make the rest up, but convincingly of course."

Last night we discovered one of the girls in our group has a wonderful voice-she has sung Les Miserables. So we set her and Donovan to sing Yesterday for our last night. Amazing. Jen McDerra.Remember her name. She is looking for a band. I am sure we will hear her or read her works in years to come.
We all joined in Mellow Yellow, Monster Mash and lots more of Donovan’s hits which we knew verbatim by now. I was so happy I could have burst. Instead of that I started harmonising. Before I knew it I was scatting with Donovan. And everyone was cheering me, and Donovan, of course. The word legend is over used except in this case, it applies. How surreal...Or some might say...how Mellow Yellow. (and take a look at the Totleigh 16.)

A bit like Purple Coo, it was a pleasure and an honour to be with a group of people where you could be ‘yourself’ for a whole week without anyone thinking you are bonkers.


So until another day

Bye for now


























22 comments:
LittleBrownDog said...
Oh, Angel, I lapped up every word of that - it sounds completely wonderful. Would love to go on an Arvon course, but have always made excuses for not going this year, maybe next? I'm so glad it was everything you hoped it would be, and more. That confidence is so important. Looking forward to seeing your name on the shelves of Waterstones one day.

Thursday, November 20, 2008
ChrisH said...
WELL DONE! It's sounds as if it was a real ordeal for you at first so you were very brave to stick with it. Writing from cold like that is hard - I hate doing it! - especially when you have to read it out to other people but at least everyone was in the same boat. Take confidence from the praise you've been given - the tutors wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. Good luck with the rewrite.

Thursday, November 20, 2008
Milla said...
what a fantastic sounding time. SO exciting and reinvigorating - and, believe me, that sense of positivity DOES last, so build on it and go, girl, go (wrote go, gril, go first!)

Thursday, November 20, 2008
Pipany said...
Lord thoe idea of reading something out makes me go cold all over Angel. Well done you, feel proud and go for it! xx

Thursday, November 20, 2008
elizabethm said...
I am just so pleased it was all worthwhile and fascinated by the sound of it. I have always fancied going and never done it - it feels as if you are saying you should be taken seriously as a writer and that makes me feel uncomfortable, but you will know all about that!
Great, just great and I know all that positivity will stay with you.

Go for it!

Thursday, November 20, 2008
lampworkbeader said...
Oooh! Angel. One day I'll be able to say, 'I knew here when she first started writing on Coo.'
(Cut out every sentence that doesn't advance the plot. I''ll remember that. Though it makes for a very short novella)

Thursday, November 20, 2008
lampworkbeader said...
Oops! meant her not here,

Thursday, November 20, 2008
snailbeachshepherdess said...
there is a new animated Angel bursting out of the page - go girl go!

Thursday, November 20, 2008
mountainear said...
It sounds so exhilarating - hope you keep up the momentum and write, write, write. You've got it in you - now do it.

What a fantastic week.

Thursday, November 20, 2008
Tattie Weasle said...
Oh it sounds wonderful and you are SO brave! Some mouse though...fantastic!!!

Thursday, November 20, 2008
bodran... said...
What a brilliant time you had . i can so understand the hideing away i would have done the same .
As for donovan you lucky thing i love his music.xxx see you soon .

Friday, November 21, 2008
muddyboots said...
wow, angel, this sounds sooooooo cool!

xx

Friday, November 21, 2008
Arcadian Advocate said...
In the 90's I looked at Arvon courses many times, but have not done so for a while as I have been so busy. Perhaps one day, after all, I will be brave enough to go.
Good Luck and thanks for sharing your experience, you brought the week alive for us all, and yes many of us can remember Donovan!

Friday, November 21, 2008
pinkfairygran said...
Congratulations Angel on actually doing the course, seeing it through. I know how nervous you were, but you did it, and aside from what you got out of it, you must be so proud of yourself for going.


You sound so fired up from it all, well done and more power tol your writing. And of course, I remember Donovan. What an extra treat for you!

Friday, November 21, 2008
Cait O'Connor said...
Comgratulations Angel. That was a great piece of writing in itself and good luck with your present and any future work. I am so glad it was money well spent.

Saturday, November 22, 2008
Frances said...
Please forgive me for being so late in leaving you a comment. Your experience at arvon seems to have been quite enriching.

Don't lose a bit of the energy, confidence, enthusiasm that you took home with you.

Write, rewrite, share what you've written with more folks (even those whom you fear might be critical, because they just might be excellent readers.)

I did check out the Utube segments, and those were also so much fun. First there is a mountain then there is no mountain then there is. Etc. Create!

Sunday, November 23, 2008
Exmoorjane said...
I am so so thrilled that you loved it (would have beaten self with a wooden stick over the head if you hadn't). Ah yes, show not tell.....those words echoed through our week too. But your bunch sound much younger and trendier and go-getting that our lot (who had a penchant for running away and crying -but that could have been the Philip Hensher effect!).
You go girl indeed or even gril go.....we all know you have it in you.
Janexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Monday, November 24, 2008
CAMILLA said...
Well done to you Angel, for sticking it out, if it was me I probably would have run.

Definately money worth spent though Angel, and the very best of luck with the writing for the future.

Ooh, meeting Donovan, how wonderful is that, I adore his music.

xx

Saturday, November 29, 2008
Fennie said...
They are wonderful those courses. I went on one years and years ago - on writing comedy - Ha! (or even HaHa!) but they are hard work. Great camaraderie. Certainly it's an experience you will remember for a very long time. And meeting Donavan as well!

Sunday, November 30, 2008
Tessa said...
OMG - you are so brave. I would have run away the very first night. What an absolutely wonderful experience it turned out to be - I'm so thrilled...and excited...for you. Bravo!

Friday, December 05, 2008
blogthatmama said...
Angel I'm so glad I found this post, I'm in such a muddle these days I couldn't remember who was going on the course until I went on purplecoo today. It sounds absolutely brilliant but very scary, well done for being so brave, I think I would have pretended to be the cleaner. I would really love to go one day, when life calms down a bit! Mellow Yellow! Haven't thought about that song in ages

Friday, December 05, 2008
Marianne said...
I am so impressed that you did this. Well done for being so creative and so brave. Loved your description of your stay and good luck with the novel!

My Teflon Nan

It is amazing how someone knows when he or she is dying.

A few weeks ago, my Nan’s legs were so swollen with oedema she bluntly announced she knew she was dying to me one day when I visited her.
“We have to face facts Debbie. I can’t go on forever and I’ve had enough. My time is up. I want you to take the victorian plate and the three handled mug from in my glass cabinet and take them to the Rural Museum.”

By pure co-incidence, the following week I was going for my second trip to Glastonbury-Nan’s hometown, this time taking my two boys. I have spent most of the last few months collating family history and annotating Nan’s memories of her life as a girl growing up between the wars in Glastonbury. Nan became so animated as she gave me her life’s review, telling her stories and sharing her knowledge of the town.

I smile as I recall the time that my Nan queued for nearly three hours when the Antiques Road show visited Leeds many years ago to show them her artefacts. She was disgusted to learn the plate was only worth twenty-five pounds and the mug just twenty or so. “All that time I queued to hear that load of rubbish! Humph! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!” I suspect she gave the valuer a flea in his ear too. She never did appear on the Sunday night programme.
Whatever the intrinsic value, the historic appeal was obvious and the Rural Museum seemed thrilled with her donation. It is in the right place I am sure.


After I came back from Glastonbury, there were only a couple of weeks until her 90th Birthday celebrations. The oedema was advancing up her legs but Nan still stubbornly refused the doctor and district nurses attempts to get her into a home or hospital. “I’m not going anywhere until at least after my birthday!”
We invited nearly thirty people to her party at the community centre of the sheltered complex where she lives. Only eleven of her old dears turned up along with hubby, boys and me. Not even the promise of a free tea could persuade some of them to forgive her cantankerous and sometimes tyrannical ways over the years. However, the people who mattered were there and she had a marvellous time.


Unbeknown to her, for our present to her, I had booked a couple to come, sing, and play the piano to her. I requested her favourites-‘Jerusalem,’ or the ‘Glastonbury Hymn’ as some know it and ‘You’ll never walk alone.’ In between, they had a good old singsong to wartime and Gershwin classics and her old friends went home laden with doggy bags.


For Nan, two hours of singing and snoozing exertions proved almost too much. We were due to go to Antigua just three days later.
“How long are you going for?” She asked as I settled her back in her own bungalow afterwards.
“Only a week Nan-we’ll be back before you know it.”
“Oh, thank god.”

I rang her doctor to ask his advice as to whether I should go and checked the insurance details if the worst should happen.
“In my opinion, medically, she is not on her ‘last legs’ yet so I should go. She will have made her own decisions on when she wants to go anywhere and nothing any of us say will change that. My biggest concern is that she won’t go into hospital or a home but she is the most stubborn, difficult lady I have ever known and we can’t make her go.” Tell me about it.

I rang her from Antigua. She sounded frail and a little confused. “Are you home now?” She asked eagerly.
“No darling-just another two days-I’ll soon be there.”
“Only I’ve decided to go into respite care,” she interrupted. “I’m only going in for two weeks but I’ve told them I’m not going anywhere until you get home from holiday.”
What a relief to think she would have some proper care at last. This was what she should have had for over a year now since I gave up being her primary carer. I secretly hoped that maybe once she was in a nursing home she might find she quite enjoyed the care and company. But then again...I remembered her words a few weeks ago that once she went into hospital or a home she knew she would not come out.

The family and I travelled back from the Caribbean on Saturday evening/Sunday and as soon as I plugged my phone in the charger, I found the messages from my uncle to say she was in hospital. Half an hour home and the hospital rang to say she had deteriorated rapidly. They wanted to impress how poorly she was and advised I could visit her anytime. I left hubby and boys to unpack the cases and went straight to the hospital.

Nans eventually recognised me and then immediately proceeded to work through her wishes-Different to a few weeks ago, this time, adding personal details of her funeral arrangements such as where to scatter the ashes.
“For an extra two guineas you can make sure I’m cremated by myself-I don’t want to be burnt with other people-you don’t know whose ashes you’re getting!”
She’s a sharp one my Nan.
“Tell the boys I will be looking down on them and making sure they are ok. I’m so proud of them...and if you need me you just look up and say ‘Mam-what do I do?’ and I’ll help you. I’ll always be there for you.”

I thought she was invincible. Three heart attacks, two strokes, pacemaker fitted, five major operations...She had a will of steel, my Teflon Nan....my Mam.

For a couple of hours she went through room by room, cupboard by cupboard and told me specific instructions on what do with everything...her bedroom furniture, her clothes, her curtains...even her kettle and her tinned food.
“I told you I knew this was the end for me and I needed to sort it all. Does Dr Wright know I’m going? He’s so lovely, he’ll want to know. And the Vicar-you must tell the Vicar.”
I told her “Don’t worry-I’ll take care of everything.”

That is the way it has always been with my Nan and me. This time I did not mind. I knew she needed to have everything in order... before...

Her final words to me were-“Can you stop stroking my hand please. I can’t go anywhere while you’re stroking my hand.”
That made me smile.
“Do you want me to leave?” I asked, not sure whether to leave her or not. What if?...
“Yes please. I came into this world alone and I shall leave alone.”
Some of you may know what she is quoting. I think I may have heard it before. Or maybe it was Nans own saying?

She was not alone when she came into the world. She was with her mother. I wanted to be with my ‘mother.’ Despite everything over the last, however many years, that was what she was to me, and without her my life would have been so very different.
However, she had sorted all her arrangements and wishes. In her head, the contents of her cupboards and her belonging already had new owners. She had ticked all the boxes on the checklist and could get some proper rest now.

I was only home for an hour and a half and the Hospital rang me. They said not to rush back but she was very, very poorly. I did not make it back to the hospital in time-she had already gone by the time I got there. The nursing staff told me that she wanted to be alone. She asked them for some fresh water and by the time they returned, she had gone.

She had it all planned. In control until the end eh? How was it she knew that she was dying?...You hear so many tales of people that leave the world like this, without any worries and everything organised.



Until another day...

xx

The power of learning to say “NO”

No" is such a simple word...Just two little letters. For years, I have unsuccessfully battled to master it. I am sure I said "No!" quite well when I was two years old. However, over the years as I grew into a child and then adult who craved to please people and be liked, the simple word somehow dropped out of my vocabulary.

Is it just me who struggles? It is just that I have always found it so much easier to say, "I'll be glad to..." (Eleven letters) or "When do you need me to..." (Seventeen letters.)

How nice it must be to be able to say a nice ‘assertive’ “NO.”
"No, I won't be able to help with that. I've already got something else I am doing on that day." Short and simple.
I think I have muted before on several occasions I do not do short and simple. My attempts at “No” in the past have usually been accompanied by weak excuses and rationalizations, which left the other person unconvinced, sure that I would ‘give in’ in the end. Predictably I usually did, unable to risk offending someone or the wrath of him or her thinking badly of me. The trouble with not being able to say no is that it can put an enormous strain on your time and resource. It can drain your energy. In addition, as I found out over recent years, it can sap your soul.

You should not need an excuse to support your stand. Why should we feel guilty saying no because we need more time to ourselves? What is wrong with not agreeing to take on a job because you really do not fancy doing it?

Take for example the approach I had a couple of weeks ago from our Parochial Church Council for me to become their Treasurer. To be fair they must have though “ex Bank Manager-she would be ideal...and she’s at home all day... (Well, I am sure that is what some people think, even my husband. Or is that my guilty conscience?) ...and she’s always getting involved with things in the village...the perfect candidate.” Except I am not.

I was a Personal Banking Manager where everything is system driven. My focus was on customer service and sales, not Trading Profit and Loss accounts. Maths was my weakest subject at school. Remember that I was the bank manager who never even got ‘O’ Level maths! Even to think of being Treasurer filled me with horror. I know I would dread that responsibility every month.

Since I retired from work, I have never been so busy-I don’t know how I ever managed to fit in work! My primary role is the family. Idle Jack takes a considerable amount of cajoling and supporting him to get anything done in a day! With Quiet Mousie it is the opposite with his demands for healthy eating (he’s on the Rooney diet) and countless trips to football coaching and training. There are packed lunches to prepare, dinners to plan, plants to water and tend, veggies to pick over, slugs to control. Then the housework and my ridiculous attempts to be the perfect domestic goddess (Well, if I bake every week, I must be a good mother.) I am currently selling off all my remaining stocks of bags to close my little craft business finally so that I can take things a little easier. I long to write but recently have let my sacrosanct two hours in a morning lapse due to everything else I have on the go.

The simple fact of the matter is that I am already spreading myself too thin and do not feel I am able to get on with anything-at least not well, or on time as I would like. I do not want to do any more.

I could go on...My point is-did I tell them that? No, I did not.

It was very nice of them really and I felt honoured that they should ask me. However, instead of saying “No” there and then, I asked for a couple of days to consider. Then I went back to them and gave a long list of excuses-my health was not very good, I already had such a lot on with campaigning for the Post Office and editing the Village News, then there was my work on the school ‘friends’ committee and trying to support them. On and on the excuses...

The Chairman of the PCC is a very nice man and said he understood. “Would you maybe just come onto the PCC then? We could do with some fresh blood and you would be a great asset to our fundraising efforts...”
Well, what could I say?

I had my first meeting last week. We are having a village barn dance in three weeks time. I am helping make a chilli, selling tickets, and making bunting and creating ‘wanted’ posters. Will I never learn I hear you ask?

Two days after the PCC meeting, ‘Pervy Reg’ flagged me down in the village.
“I hear you have been voted onto the PCC, well done Debbie. You will bring a fresh perspective on the fundraising. I wonder whether you would consider coming onto the Village Hall Committee if you don’t have too much on already.”

This time I resisted asking for time to deliberate my decision. There was nothing to deliberate. I know I am running at maximum. I cannot be productive if I keep taking on more and more commitments. Something has to give. It is usually my health.

“I am very sorry. I know you are working hard to raise funds. However, I feel my plate is already rather full with commitments and I can’t take on any more at present. But thank you for asking me...”

I know it was not a perfectly executed “No.” There was still rather too much waffling and a need to apologise and be nice. And I fretted all evening about what he would say or think about me.

Still, I should at least give myself credit-it was a step in the right direction and good practise for saying such an important two letter word.


I hope you all practise it too...

Until another day
Bye for now




Thursday, June 12, 2008
Milla said...
Sounds like you have really big things to say no to - they are massive commitments and people must now that it's not just like having a couple of kids back after school for tea, but an on-going drain on your time. You could say that you'd worry you wouldn't be able to do it justice etc - yes, I know, I'm another who finds it hard to say NO (though F9 says it all the time and sometimes I quite amdire him for it) and always feel I have to provide a massive excuse. A man wouldn't think like that, I'm sure. Be strong!

Thursday, June 12, 2008
ChrisH said...
Well done! You won't get those precious two hours unless you do say no. Good for you.

Thursday, June 12, 2008
Elizabethd said...
Good for you. Sometimes 'no' is a very important word to learn!

Thursday, June 12, 2008
Working mum said...
Well done. You will find that people will respect you for saying "No" and will be all the more grateful when you do say "Yes". Keep your extra curricular stuff enjoyable and manageable I say!

Thursday, June 12, 2008
Crystal Jigsaw said...
You have taken on quite a lot there haven't you! The farmer finds it difficult to say no unless I'm asking him to do a job for me and I'm useless! I'm like you, if I say no and give my excuses I spend ages afterwards wondering if the person will still like me, that's if they ever liked me at all!!

CJ xx

Thursday, June 12, 2008
Inthemud said...
Yes, I've always struggled with the word "No", if I do say No , I tend to then feel so guilty, I change my mind to Yes, I did an assertiveness course once and did practise more of saying No , got better for a while, then slipped back.

Didn't realise you'd become just Angel instead of CCA!

Thursday, June 12, 2008
bodran... said...
I still have problems saying it so i just hide from people!
I've just been doing a catch up. your trip to glastonbry sound fascinating...
How are you fixed for sunday in ludlow instead of hiking all the way here ?? i've put a pst on the cm xx

Thursday, June 12, 2008
Frances said...
Sometimes, it occurs to me that I have a difficult time saying no to what others ask, but that the result is that I have said a quick no to what I myself might have been planning. It's good to practice saying yes to yourself!

xo

Thursday, June 12, 2008
mountainear said...
I'm not very good at saying 'No' either - but I have noticed that when I've got a full diary things do get done - and generally it is fun and fulfilling. Honest!

Thursday, June 12, 2008
CAMILLA said...
Hi Angel,

Yep, I am just the same, I have always struggled with the NO word. I can be up to my eyes in one thing or another, and I have fear of saying that two letter word. Then if I do say NO, then feel terribly guilty afterwards.

I have to keep reminding myself that you are now Angel and not CCA.

Good for you Angel in saying the two letter word, and as they say, one can only do so much.

xx

Thursday, June 12, 2008
Cait O'Connor said...
It's hard Angel but I have learned that less is more . in everything. Too much leads to stress....whatever it is. It's my mantra now. Saying No is so hard though but it will get easier the more you do it!

Friday, June 13, 2008
Pipany said...
Golly I could have written this Angel! Don't know if I am getting busier or just cope less well now! I think my permanently grumpy/harassed face is putting people off asking me to help with such things - worth a go?!! xx

Sunday, June 15, 2008
Preseli Mags said...
This rang so true with me too. I was asked to be treasurer of one group and reluctantly agreed. I found it so stressful! Then another group asked and I tried so hard to say no - layers of emotional blackmail later and I was a treasurer again! More stress, sleepless nights over accounts, fund-raising, grant applications etc. Never again! Next time I will say no, just as you did. But why is it such a difficult thing to say? Brilliant blog!

Monday, June 16, 2008
muddyboots said...
practice saying no in front of the bathroom mirror, no No NO! a little stamp of the foot might help.

Monday, June 16, 2008
Exmoorjane said...
How funny - have just finished writing a feature on exactly t his - how to say NO.
Apparently the key is to say it very quickly and immediately - then you can apologise all you like. So it's a brisk, 'No, sorry.....' then blah-di-blah-di-blah. I do it myself ever since I did a 'Just say no' workshop and it's fabulous. Works a treat. people don't even bother asking now! I also say that I'm allergic to committees (which is true - I come out all bright red and puffy faced and make strange spluttering noises). jxxxx

Tuesday, June 17, 2008
snailbeachshepherdess said...
The thought of a treasurers job would just leave me in gibbering heap...horrible.
How are you? How are those Xams going? have been wondering..

Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Fennie said...
I know just the feeling Angel! I am a sucker for ending up doing things I don't want and don't have time to do.
But sometimes it is easier to say 'yes' and just do it, than to pfaff about umming and I'll let you knowing. How do you avoid feeling guilty when you say 'no'- that's the problem.

Saturday, June 21, 2008
elizabethm said...
Oh I like this blog! I have learnt to say no although used to be terrible. Jane is right. If "No" is the first word that comes out, as in "No, I'm sorry..." it is amazing how much better people hear it than when it comes with prevarications running before it. Although mountainear is right that it is amazing what one can do if you want to do it - wanting ,that is the key!

Saturday, June 21, 2008
Milla said...
have just come to see if anything more on how you are? OK, I hope? And have commented on the end of chapter 3's story, too xx

Thursday, June 26, 2008
Sally's Chateau said...
It's such a simple short word isn't it ? I have trouble saying it too..........

Sunday, June 29, 2008
annakarenin said...
Good for you. It is hard to do, I made the descision when we moved here that I was not going to end up on masses of commities and have pretty much stuck to it. The pressure does come but remain firm for you and your family. Just being a mother is work enough for anyone.

Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Milla said...
still not a peep from you, sigh. hope all is well, D?

Friday, July 25, 2008
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The real Glastonbury-THE TOWN

So much mythology and legend surrounds Glastonbury. Stories abound and people have flocked, sometimes in their thousands, for over 4000 years. However the reality of real life in Glastonbury is very different. And the town of Glastonbury, as seen through the eyes of a young woman growing up between the First and the Second World Wars was far removed from the esoteric shops and lost souls that we see there today.

I started the Millenium Trail from the Georgian Town Hall, (next to Glastonbury Abbey) and followed thereafter in order the guide suggested-a good way to take in the main highlights and sights which I had heard about over the years as I grew up with my Nan.
The Town Hall has served many purposes over the years-as well as housing a market area, jail and Court Room and even a silk factory for some time.

Nans main recollection of the Town Hall was as a young girl of eleven or twelve years. In approximately 1930 a hall was added to the rear and following the renovations there was a grand re-opening. Twelve boys and girls were selected to sing at the opening. Nan was one of them. Her father was so ill (heart disease) he had to be helped up the stairs by three people. Not only was he proud to hear his daughter sing but he and the whole town wanted to hear the choral version of ‘Jerusalem’ (or Glastonbury Hymn as it was sometimes known.)

William Blake wrote the immortal words many years previously, probably inspired by the apocryphal story that a young Jesus, accompanied by Joseph of Arimithea, went to Glastonbury. However it was Charles Hubert H Parry who wrote the musical score to accompany the words in 1916 when he was asked by the poet laureate, Robert Bridges, to put it to music for a ‘Fight for Right’ campaign meeting in London’s Queen Hall. After that it continued to be tested out with different orchestral and choral versions. During the 1920’s many Women’s Institutes started to close their meetings by singing Blake’s words to Parry’s setting. Parry died in 1918 (incidentally that was the year my Nan was born.) And Edward Elgar added to the scores to create the more powerful version known and loved by so many of us today.
According to my Nan she was one of the chosen ones to be involved and it was the first time that the people of Glastonbury heard the tune when she sang it.


As you look out from the Town Hall you can see St Benedicts Church.
The adjacent school is where Nan attended her secondary school. Back then it was an all girl’s school. The year Nan sat her 11+ no one passed the exam. The following year only one girl passed-a very posh girl called Margaret Parsons who was apparently related to someone in the Clarks (shoe) family.

Back towards town on Benedicts Street is the Mitre Inn.

Nan remembers a new girl, Joy Mills coming to the school. She was plump but very well dressed and had curly dark hair with a fringe. Her parents owned the Mitre Inn.

When I went to Glastonbury I contacted the local press and they were so helpful they even put an appeal in the paper for any one who remembered my Nans family or who remembered life in the town just before the 2nd World War to contact me. I was quite disappointed not to hear from anyone throughout my stay. However the night I got home I had a telephone call from a 90 year old lady-Joy Mills, Nans friend from all those years ago. She still lives on Benedict Street with her husband and for several years took over the Mitre Inn pub after her mum and dad passed away. She is one of the few remaining ‘elders’ in the town-everyone else has now sadly died.
Iris Knight (daughter of Knights famous Knight's Fish Restaurant, the oldest (and best) fish and chip shop in Britain ) was at school with Nan and they shared exactly the same birth date. 18th August 1918. Sadly Iris died a few years ago however the fish and chip shop still exists and I ate the most delicious fish, chips and mushy peas during my stay and definitely plan a return trip with the boys!

Nan can remember shop by shop along the streets in town. I have written them all down and intend to document them along with her memoirs-the Antiquarian Society and Library said they would be very interested for their records.

The market square used to be the centre of town life and many of the buildings date from the time of the Abbey, although the shop frontage has changed over the centuries. The present cross was built in 1845 and replaced a medieval water conduit. Live cattle were sold in front of the butchers shop, where nan's Uncle Wally worked for years.

Nan came out of the dance at the town hall one New Years Eve and danced and celebrated with everyone in the square.

One of the old Glastonbury Inns, The Crown (mentioned as early as 1535)still remains. Unfortunately a bad fire a hundred years ago burnt down much of the medieval original. Nans Uncle and Aunty owned the pub for several years and Nan was very good pals with their daughter, her cousin Eileen. For some reason when Eileen died, the family never contacted Nan to tell her and the two sides of the family lost touch. However it was believed that the family continued to own the pub until more recent times. I intend on my next visit to brave and go in and enquire to the current landlord-I was a little nervous on my visit as it seemed a little intimidating from the outside. It would be interesting to see whether any of 'that side of the family' are still alive.

The George & Pilgrims Inn was built by Abbot Selwood approx 1465 to accomodate the thousands of visitors who flocked to the town.
Nearly opposite the inn used to be an ironmongers. Nans brother Douglas used to work there filling up the paraffin lamps.

By co-incidence my Granddad was billoted to the house above it during the second world war during his first stay which is when they met. Nan would go past on her bike and wave to him as he hung out of the window. They would shout the words “Three Pips!” at each other, coded message for “I love you.”

St Johns Church was very much the centre of their world. Nan was christened there and her mum and dad's burial services were there before being taken on to the cemetery on Wells Road.

The Glastonbury Thorn in the churchyard flowers at Christmas and Easter time. Every Christmas the vicar cuts some blossom and sends it to the Queen for her Christmas breakfast table.

To the rear of the church is St Johns school, Nans first school. Nan had two older brothers as well as her twin brother. One day the eldest, Jack came home with a note from the school teacher-she needed to see a copy of the twins birth certificates for the records. My Nans mother never did send her a copy despite her repeated requests-she packed the children off to school and they were barely three years old.

Nan recalls going to school with Jack Chislett (and admits she used to fancy him!) He was mayor of Glastonbury a few years ago. His brother, George (who sadly passed away a couple of years ago) had a flower shop on the high street. He was head gardener for the Abbey grounds and was one of the few people who was able to graft Holy Thorn cuttings onto the root of blackthorn.

The war memorial in front of the Church was designed by Bligh Bond and based upon a Saxon Cross he discovered when excavating the abbey. Nan recalls being a brownie and leaving a wreath on the memorial on Armistice Day .

Much of the remainder of the high street remains as it has been for over 200 years.

The post office is the only other memory of any real significance to Nan along the high street. Her beloved dad worked there as a postal clerk. And she later joined as a post person-she covered a good five mile stretch down the high street, down Benedicts Street delivering post along a round route to the Station and back.


At this point I diverted off the millenium trail to Bove Town, which until about 1791was the main medieval road to Wells.
On the left as you go up you see a beautiful cottage, Many of the other houses along this stretch still have internal features that are up to 500 years old.




I was looking for Coombe House, the house where Nan worked as an 'in-between' maid' from the age of just twelve.

I could see very little from the roadside of the house-it was masked by laurel and leyandii trees although I dared to step up a couple of the steps, maybe re-tracing the route she will have taken to the servants entrance. Nans hours of work were 7am until 9pm. She stayed at the house during the week and only went home at weekends. Woe betide her if she was not home on time-her mother would march down and collect her!

The house is now privately owned by two gentlemen, one of whom is the Chairman of Somerset County Council, Alan Gloake. I have had no luck contacting him so far. However I have just been given his telephone number so I will dare to ring and introduce myself. I do know from the website that the gardens open on 3rd August for 1 day only. Me and the boys have already planned our return visit to Glastonbury around this date, although I am rather hoping Mr Gloake may be kind enough to show me around the inside of the house some time!

Next door is a thatched cottage dated 1637. Miss Murial owned it and sold it to the Scott Stokes, a very wealthy family who were related to the Clarks of Somerset. Nan remembers as she worked in Coombe house the children next door ran and played outside in their bare feet, not of course because the family were too poor to afford shoes, but the Clarks family believed that it was more healthy and natural for childrens feet to be allowed to breathe and grow without restrictions.
If you continued past you walk through Wick Hollow and a route to Tor Hill.

Uncle Wally (the butcher) and Aunt Bess lived there and one of her errands was to go and collect cider in a heavy flagon for her dad from the cider press which Wally had.

On the way home Nan would pick violets and primroses and other seasonal flowers from the banks and take small bunches back to her mother.

To be continued...