saturday – gone…

Posted in Uncategorized at 9:13 pm by rachel

fireworks and sirens in the background, as i sit by my window. Saturday night in Camberwell. I hope those banging sounds are fireworks. Suddenly there is nothing – just the faint hum of the television in the background and the echo of Burly’s mum on the phone to him – his occasional responses. My fingers on the keyboard. Ah, there’s the siren again. A car pulls up and does a three point turn – it sounds different in reverse.

We were told at the writing class to make a note of sounds – to sit and listen and make a note, so that when we’re writing out masterpieces, we’ll be more used to fleshing them out with sounds, to ensure the reader is experiencing the novel with the full five senses. This was what I should have been doing all week, but it fell by the wayside somewhat.

A car ignition and a flash of headlights. A radio played far too loudly. Such grim background noise – no birdsong, no children singing, just traffic and urbanity. No natural noises – a construct. Life at speed.

Work has been a big stress, speeding by as well. I’ve had so much to do, but am partly too fed up to bother, and also when I try to work, get stymied by my equally lazy colleagues. My manager has impressed me this week, however. I wonder how she feels about me – if she thinks I’m hard to deal with or pleasant. Hardworking or lazy. Probably lazy. maybe she realises how disillusioned I am. It no doubt shows on my face.

I want to buy a house, but am about a million miles from it. A million miles from all of that kind of grown up nonsense. I wish I was closer, then I would at least have a choice; as it is, I simply feel like I’m missing out.

Saturday draws to a close. Today has been given over to chores – cleaning, shopping for groceries, more cleaning, washing clothes. Hottest weekend of the year so far, and we’ve been under a roof all day. Tomorrow there is more to do – bikes to service, cleaning to finish, possibly some shopping for clothes if we’re lucky. And then another week in work, and a good two days of envelope stuffing, I imagine. At least it is a short week, although I’ll be at home for the weekend. My joie de vivre is dwindling somewhat. I can’t imagine seeing my Granny in a home will be a pleasant experience. And Burly will have gone as well. Returning to an empty flat. I don’t really want to think about it at the moment.

Maybe I should go and finish the chores.


joie de vivre

Posted in Uncategorized at 10:24 pm by rachel

Joie de vivre today – there has been nothing but clouds about work and worries about home for far too long, so it is nice to feel happy today. I feel more like myself for the first time in months.

This happiness stems from my nerdy meeting last night. I’ve wanted to do a creative writing class for as long as I’ve been in London, but with one thing and because of another, I never have – but I booked it a few weeks ago and last night was my first night.

It was cathartic, really, feeling the whole gamut of emotions. Embarrassed and nervous and amused and finally pleased with the praise that my miniature story received. The response I got was really encouraging, although the level of talent in the class was clearly high. Everyone there, whether they admitted it or not, has the idea in their head about seeing their book in Waterstones – making the speech to the Academy for the best screenplay – receiving the £100,000 advance and giving up the dull day job. We all want to be able to say, when asked the question at parties, “I’m a writer, actually”. A scribe. A playwright. A novelist. A poet.

How fun would it be?
To write

I haven’t been blogging because I’ve been so very bored with what I’m doing – writing it down at the end of a tedious day would be even more disheartening. And I’m slightly disillusioned about writing commentary on this unfair world of ours. My rants and raves about feminism will not make me feel better, nor will it make the world a more equitable place.

Hence the creative writing. I want to write fiction, actually I want to write anything..

Just home from work, stupidly had a wine-fuelled ideological argument about linguistics with a woman two levels above me, which in the cold light of my flat was idiotic. Will go to bed and hope she was as drunk as I was.