Christmas Past and Present

As the days roll past that take us to Christmas Day, it seems this year that my mind has been on past Christmas's, and how they were spent. As a child, Christmas was all excitement, where the thoughts of presents and what they might be outweighed everything else.

One year, when I was three, I can remember my twin and myself getting up very, very early on Christmas Day. It was very dark and we managed to switch on the light so we could open the presents which we had found at the bottom of the bed. Suddenly, the bedroom door bursts open and there in the doorway is our father and he is not looking very happy. We were sent back to bed with stinging legs and told not to get up until it was light. And yet, although we both had a cry, I can't remember it spoiling Christmas. I think we knew we shouldn't be up but at three what can you do when there are all those delicious parcels waiting for you?

Another year, when my younger brother was still a toddler, he had been given a blow up snowman with a weighted bottom as a present (like a punch bag). Not a brave toddler, he cried ferociously when it was moved around prompting his naughty sisters to move it around even more.

As we grew older, Christmas presents seemed to be more about things that were needed - a best frock, a guitar (we joined a guitar group at 12), shoes and slippers, hankies together with the inevitable selection boxes(which seemed larger then than they do now).

Going into my teens, what I remember most is the food. There was masses of it. A huge turkey with all the trimmings, bacon rolls chipolata sausages, stuffing roast parsnips, and potatoes, sprout, cabbage, peas and carrots - the list appeared to be endless. And for after, my Nan's Christmas pudding. It was paler than the usual Christmas puddings and was the only one I used to eat and enjoy, especially as there were glacé cherries inside. It did seem that we no sooner finished dinner than it was time for tea - fruit salad and Christmas cake. Then later in the evening, bubble and squeak with cold meat. The following was cold meat again but with chips and all kinds of pickles.

I think Christmas's really changed for me when I left my first husband. The first one was pretty miserable, spent with my Mum in the residential home she ran, with her saying if I became upset, 'You've made your bed - now lie in it.' I think it was a time of realising that Christmas wasn't just about presents, food and watching television but about friendship and families and what you put into that special day.

Now, married to a wonderful man, who doesn't like Christmas, having been a butcher for most of his adult life and had to work so hard right up to Christmas Eve, Christmas is more about companionship, knowing that if I see something I like during the year, then I can buy it (so it's Christmas all year round!). It's also about seeing family that we don't see as often as we would like, but making the most of it anyway.

From my faith point of view, it is a reminder that God came to earth in the form of a vulnerable baby, who would grow up to do amazing things, then die and live again, so that we may have this wonderful connection with Him.

Wishing all of you a Joyful Christmas and a peaceful 2014.

Eight Things I've Learnt About Working on the NaNoWriMo Challenge

I feel I must start with my apologies as I commence this post. It has been some weeks since I have written, largely due to the subject I want to deal with today, namely National Novel in a Month 2013. My time has been taken up in the preparation for this challenge and then in the work on it.

This challenge first started in the United States 13 years ago, (which is where the word in the title National comes in) the object being for each contestant to attempt to write 50,000 words in 30 days, those 30 days being the month of November.

I have tried for the past 2 years to reach this magic total and failed miserably. Both years failures were for a perfectly good reason - as someone with chronic fatigue syndrome, there are times when it is not a good idea to push yourself. Nevertheless, it left me with this urge to succeed one day in this challenge.

This year, I succeeded, much to my joy. The whole process was a novel experience and I learnt lots. Please see my little list below for more detail. Recently I have read articles showing scepticism that typing so intensively over 30 days can produce anything useful. To them I say I now have something I can edit and decide for myself it's usefulness, whether to send it to a publisher or not. But that wasn't the reason it was done. Like climbing Everest, I did it because it was there.

1.  I can Write!
This first thing was a biggie for me. As the days went on, to actually realise that I can sit down on a day to day basis and type something, whether it was 400 words or 2,000. It gave me great confidence, which still buzzes on today, a week after finishing the challenge.

2.  It is possible to write most days, if not every day.
Even though I did have other things to do, as we all have, I discovered that wanting to do this challenge made me look for the times in my day when I could type. Even 15 minutes was enough to write a few words. I didn't have to sit there for hours each day (although the last few days did become a bit frantic).

3.  I can be disciplined.
Again, this was a realisation that I can plan things into my day, if I really want to do it.

4.  It feels good to write.
I did not find the experience tiring, but incredibly enjoyable. The sheer effort of putting pen to paper allowed me to focus and to concentrate for however long I had and to just write.

5.  You can only learn about what you need to concentrate on like descriptions of characters and places, by having something written to look over in the first place.
What I am trying to say is you can't edit anything unless you have written something first. Additionally, you can only appreciate what you need to do to your characters and the various description only if there is something on paper or screen for you to peruse first. Before this I had spent a long time about thinking what I would like to write, but not putting fingers to the keyboard. It is quite a good feeling to find you now have something to work on.

6.  It is possible to get yourself inch by inch to a goal.
This was mentioned a little in point 2, but really you can only appreciate what writing 50,000 words feels like, when you actually do it. 50,000 words amounts to 1,667 words approximately every day. So every day you needed to pace yourself to ensure you were on track. As you get closer to your goal, you begin to realise that this can be done in any avenue of your life and is very thought provoking.

7.  Preparation is so important.
This is where I came unstuck in the two past years. This year I had some idea as to what I wanted to write about. As a new writer of fiction, I didn't completely appreciate what kind of planning I needed to do. I soon realised as the days went on where my planning had been faulty. But I had planned something, even if it was a bit loose. And it did keep me going and next time, I will be better prepared.

8.  You need your buddies.
What I also hadn't had before was support, mainly because I had thought that telling people would make them think I was totally mad. This year, I had the support of my husband and the creative writing support group on Facebook, who also have a special month long NaNoWriMo group. It was brilliant to have that much support. My husband was fantastic, making sure I didn't overdo things, but also being very encouraging. I think he could see it was important for me to do this.
The support group were amazing. I did have one occasion where I deleted a whole chapter and a bit from my work and people were very sympathetic. But they kept you going and were supportive every step of the way. They also rejoiced with you when you completed the task. As I have said, amazing.

What next? The recommendation is that you leave it for a month and then start the editing process. That is what I intend to do. What I also want to do is to look at the other projects that I have started over the past year or so and see if I can bring those to fruition. Ultimately, what this challenge has done is made me keen to write more and better. You can't have a better outcome than that.

Blackberry Wood and The Half Moon

It is rare that I go through a day when we go out that I'm really impressed with all I see. Today was such a day. In our research on camp-sites in the East Sussex area, we had discovered what seemed like an unusual one near Lewes called Blackberry Wood. The web site was professional and showed some unusual static caravans – by unusual, I mean a double decker London bus, a helicopter (yes, really) amongst others.

Thinking that it may not really be for us, we decided to go up there this morning to take a look. We are finding out just how friendly campers and those running them are. If it was going to be any good, we reasoned, then they won’t mind us visiting.

The first surprise was that it was reasonably easy to find; just off the road near to Plumpton College and a few miles from Lewes. And even though we had quite a lot of rain over the weekend, we were both struck by how ‘unmuddy’ it was. And yes, it had a double decker bus and helicopter in the main area, together with other unusual static cabins, including a Curvy Cabin.

On asking at the reception area, we found they were happy for us to explore, and gave directions so that we could view nearly the whole site. The areas for tents to pitch seemed to be in the wooded areas, each with their own fire grill for camp fires. As it was mainly empty it was difficult to say how secluded each pitch was, but as we intend to go along mid week before Christmas, this wasn't a major issue. It looked impressive and I wanted to try out our bell tent there (more about the bell tent in another post!), like now! But patience is a virtue….

Next stop for us was the The Half Moon, a public house that we had passed on our way to Blackberry Wood. Once again, a big surprise awaited us in the form of lovely food at reasonable prices and beautiful surroundings. And following our meal, we had a swift walk to Plumpton College and back before making our way home.

I am now eagerly awaiting our next camping trip. Hopefully, the weather will dry up a little in the next couple of weeks so we can try Blackberry Wood out (and eat at The Half Moon again). We are fortunate that we can try these places out without having to travel too far and to enjoy the beautiful Sussex countryside up close and personal, as it were.

Camping at Hartfield - Day 3 and lessons learned

In spite of the very early night, I didn't get to sleep properly until after midnight. Alan also did not sleep well – acid indigestion from gorging on fish and chips. Both of us just aren't too good after eating fatty foods, as we do not eat them at home any-more.

We also listened to the rain and wind and to a Mr. Fox killing one of the ducks who lived on the lake (or at least, that is what it sounded like - a ghastly Donald Duck scream, or screams as there was more than one).

But I did sleep, much to my surprise. Morning found me refreshed and ready for another day. After breakfast and tea, Alan went off for another hour of fishing and start to pack up and dismantle those bits of equipment that I was able i.e. the air-bed, packing the sleeping bag and taking the inner bed down and folding it up. Had one very impressed husband when he arrived back.

Once everything was packed up, we left the site for a leisurely trip home, stopping for lunch on the way, believe it or not, another fry up, this time a full English breakfast - delicious!

So what has been learned on this camping trip, which,  in fact,  I did enjoy, but if things didn't go wrong there would be nothing to write about?

1)      Preparation may be everything, but communication helps as well. Alan had been so good in sorting everything prior to getting to the site. He didn't however tell me of his expectations, which made for an awkward start. Probably wasn't his fault. Maybe I should have asked more questions, rather than ‘just turned up on the day’ as it were.

2)      Air-beds should be properly blown up, or else sleeping will be difficult if not impossible (as well as getting in and out of bed - imagine feeling like you're walking on water). We realised as we were packing up that Alan’s side of the air-bed wasn't even half full. No wonder he was complaining bitterly for the two nights we were there.

3)      It rains a lot in this country, particularly when you want to go camping.

4)      Camp fires are fun and I have an extremely adept husband who sets them up.

5)    And finally, both of us agreed that comfort might be improved if we had an inner tent that allowed space either side of the air-bed, so that getting out in the middle of the night would be that much easier. So began the research towards buying another tent that may fulfil our needs. More about that in another posting - think canvas.

Camping at Hartfield - Day 2

Neither of us slept all that well that night. There is something about sleeping in a different location to your usual bed at home. I tend never to sleep well the first night. And it was very cold – not when you got warmed up in our double quilt and put the zips right up- but when you have Jessie, or dog deciding she wants a piece of the warmth as well, and it’s dark and you can’t see why the quilt isn’t where it should be i.e. over me – it doesn't make for easy sleeping.

Alan was, I know, having the same difficulties, plus getting out of bed to relieve himself. We had decided this time to place the air-bed and quilt so that the pillows were furthermost from the door. That was probably not such a good idea, because it did make getting out a little more awkward, including the fact that by the time you had made your way where you wanted to be, everyone had been disturbed.

Yet, when we finally woke up, having had a very broken night, we didn't feel tired, just excited.

Breakfast was toast and jam with coffee, taken in the open air. We were completely alone in this peaceful countryside and it did feel good.

After washing both ourselves and the dirty plates, we decided to go into the village for the paper and a few other items. We had been told of a walk down to the village, so we thought we’d give it try. It was one of the best walks that we had been on for quite some time; very scenic and not too arduous. I suppose the only thing was the stiles, of which there were around eight. On the way back, my hips were starting to moan about the new exercise.

Once in the village, we carried out our chores and decided to get some coffee while we waited for some kindling to arrive at the small store there, because we fancied another fire at the site that night. I succumbed to the chocolate croissants whilst there. Well, I thought I deserved it.

Lake at St Ives Farm, Hartfield

On returning to the site, we encountered a lone fisherman trying his luck on the lake in precisely the spot that Alan had pre-baited earlier in the day! So he went fishing at another swim. The other fisherman however ended up catching a 17lb carp, which he was very pleased with. Me? I just sat in one of  our new chairs and soaked up the sun.

Went back into the village late afternoon in the hope of eating at one of the pubs, but food wasn’t being served until after 6pm. We happened to find a mobile fish and chip van in the village and went back to the tent to gorge ourselves on a large cod and chips each. It was the best meal of that sort I had had in years.

Alan lit another camp fire which we sat beside until it started again to rain and we decided on an early night – 8.30pm, very unusual for us.

Camping at Hartfield - day 1

I hear our car engine ticking away outside and I sigh. Alan can’t wait to be on his way and here I am making the bed. I go through my mental list of things still to do – just the washing up and then I can put on my walking shoes, go to the loo, pick up my coat and bag and be off to the car. As I finish in the toilet, he comes in, impatience showing in his face. “I’ll be out in just a minute,” I inform him tersely, “I had things still to do”.

It is only when we are halfway there that I realise that I've forgotten my coat and have only my fleece for the next two days. This is our second camping adventure and it hasn't started right which, I think is probably down to me. Alan has planned it like a military operation. Lists have been made; items purchased; the car has been carefully packed. All I really had to do was to turn up, which I did, belatedly.

It is a relatively quiet trip up. It is only as we get closer to Hartfield that things go a bit awry. The travel instructions have been written for me, but there had been an expectation that I would also follow them on a map to check that we were heading in the right direction; what with the dog on my lap and being held, the instructions in my other hand, I don’t have any room for anything else. Inevitably, we go wrong and have to stop – much two way shouting ensues.

In the end, we find where we are going – St Ives Farm, just outside of Hartfield. The next problem is finding a space because, although there is lots of space i.e. there are no tents there, there are reserved signs strategically placed, which give the impression that the whole site is reserved. We take a deep collective breath, assume that this was for the past weekend (which we later found it was), find a level spot and pitch our tent.

Tent pitched and all the goods unloaded and put away, it then starts to rain. The idea had been to heat some soup on our new gas stove, but, by mutual agreement we go down to the local pub, The Anchor and eat a sandwich there (and very good it was too).

After exploring the village, with the rain easing off, we make our way back. It is a bit of a surprise to find we are the only ones on the site, but neither of us is too bothered. Alan heats up chicken dansak with a lovely aromatic spicy dhal. After our meal, he lights up a camp fire. The weather holds and we sit watching the ever changing shapes and colours of the flames, sometimes chatting and at other times gazing into the flames.

Finally, the events of the day get to both of us and we go into out tent together with Jessie, hopefully to sleep.

Admitting the Truth

Admitting the Truth

Imagine the awfulness of it all. For months I have denied that there was anything that I could do about my eating.'It’s the drugs I'm on at the moment', I would say, 'steroids are known to make it virtually impossible to lose weight'.

Then I read a book called Stopping by David Kundzt. Let hasten to say that it was not about weight and losing it, but about putting quiet moments in the day – maybe just a few seconds, sometimes longer. It also talked about longer periods of quiet, but advised to start small. The reasoning behind it all was that for whatever reason, we all tend to keep busy doing something and we tend to forget who we are and the warning messages that our bodies may be giving us.

It is not difficult to do. In some instances, it is just a case of taking a deep breath and remember where you are. In others, it may be taking pleasure in the mundane work you are doing. In a way, it is very like mindfulness.

I thought I would give it a try. The awful thing for me was that, in those moments of quiet, I suddenly realised in one of those Eureka moments, that I was still eating too much for my size, and making excuses for it. So, I must now consider what I now am eating (and drinking) and cut back accordingly.

The other 'revelation' that has come from it so far is that I am spending far too much time on these blessed Facebook games. Instead of resting between one activity before I do something else, I ‘reward’ myself with ‘just a couple of games’. Only it isn't just a couple. It draws you in and before you know it, half an hour has passed and all the things you intended to do cannot be done for the day. Oh, the shame of it! At my age, I should know better.

The good thing is that I've now noticed these things and can work towards improvements. It’s been going on for some time now. The struggle has been admitting it.