Word on a Whim

Archive for the category “Uncategorized”

19 Dec 2012
7 Comments

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

After a few weeks of ‘consultation’ I have today been given notice of redundancy from my job.  The consultation process has been a charade – a procedure that was necessary to safeguard the company from any possible litigation.  I believe they had already decided on the outcome, but we had to have meetings to put forward our ideas as to how the redundancy might be avoided.  The timing surprised me;  I was half-expecting it a few months ago when the legacy system I had developed and supported was finally laid to rest and I was struggling to learn the new programming languages, but this has happened just as I was starting to be useful.  There are a few of us going from IT and many old colleagues from other departments.  Budgets have been tightened and the company is cutting away some old wood.  The bugger of it is that I have to work twelve weeks’ notice, so I won’t finish until mid-March.  Traditionally in IT, anyone made redundant has their access to the systems revoked instantly and is escorted from the premises.  Unfortunately, that rule has just been changed here.  Maybe if I rant at my screen and say “delete” as people walk by they might let me go?

It has been a funny few weeks.   That initial meeting so suddenly called – and the first formal letter informing me that my job was “at risk” came out of the blue at a time when from my point of view we were particularly busy – so it came as a shock, followed later by a vague sense of bereavement at the thought of parting from my colleagues.  I have worked with some of them for almost thirteen years.  Now I am trying to focus on the things I won’t miss such as the bizarre heating system that blows hot air from the ceiling – drying out your eyes whilst your feet freeze beneath the desk …

I have been lucky with managers in that those I report to have always told me the truth as they saw it – but the truth has mutated with the passage of time and the failing economy.  Our project plans – all that future work – has suddenly lost its priority.

I have always believed that things happen for a reason, and was tentatively hopeful that my screenplay might make it through the BBC Writersroom and I would suddenly have loads of time to write scripts.  Not expecting to hear anything unless I was successful, I was surprised to find an email from them this morning – but it turned out to be a rejection.  By no means the first rejection I’ve ever had – it is something many writers get used to, and at least I know now, and I can knock that little fantasy on the head.  It means a lot to me to have dates and times, and to know what’s what.  I really wish it didn’t.  I wish I could be more laid back, and ‘take it as it comes’ but this is the way I am and yes, I know it is only a job, and losing it is way at the bottom of my list of the precious things in this life that I constantly worry about losing.  But yes, I was grateful to receive the email from work this afternoon.  I am on holiday this week – I was advised to use it!

So, what next?  Preferably something different – something that doesn’t necessitate sitting at a desk for hours on end … but what?  I am determined to be optimistic that this change is for the better.

Happy Christmas!

Love xxx

Posted in IT, Life experience, Uncategorized
18 Nov 2012
7 Comments

“The Snow Cock.” – Flash fiction

It was no great surprise to Mr Petrov when he looked out of his bedroom window and saw a huge snow cock in the front garden next door.  His neighbours were artists.  Olga was a sculptress who chiselled erotic shapes out of lumps of stone, whilst Luigi painted landscapes – mostly white.

Mr Petrov marvelled at the anatomical correctness as his eyes wandered from the asymmetrical testicles, up the shaft to the skilfully crafted knob.  He had always found Olga’s sculptures bizarre and grotesque, but this one made him smile.  He was still smiling as Olga crunched through the ice to load yet another of her stone sculptures into the van.  It looked heavy.  She was a tall and well-built woman, but surely her husband should be helping her?

By the time he had made it to the sub-zero outdoors, Olga was going by again with yet another sculptured lump of stone, bigger and heavier than the last.  She had to stop for a breather …

“I’m sorry I can’t help you with that, Olga.  You know I would if I could.”  He leaned on his walking stick, already shivering with cold but noticed she was sweating from exertion.

“Don’t worry, Mr Petrov, I can manage.  Hey, did you know we were moving away?”

“No?”

“Yes … to a faraway country where the climate is warm.  I am leaving tonight.”

“So soon?  So suddenly?”

“Ha!  We have not been good neighbours for you … I hope you will get better neighbours next time.”

It was true that Mr Petrov had not enjoyed listening to the arguments next door …  Luigi was a small, fiery Italian and Olga seemed to thrive on lighting his fuse.

“But why isn’t Luigi helping you with this?”

“Luigi?  He has gone already.  Gone to the hotter place.  His landscapes now will mostly be red!”

Mr Petrov shook his head.  How selfish of Luigi to leave his woman to clear the house.  He didn’t know what to say …  “Well, they forecast that it’s going to be warmer this weekend.  We’re expecting a bit of a thaw.”

“Really?”  Olga glanced with regret at the magnificent snow cock she had created.  “But of course I will be far away by then.”

 

It was no great surprise to Mr Petrov when he looked out of his bedroom window and saw that the sun was shining and the snow cock had begun to shrink.  But what was that mark on the top?  By the time he found his binoculars and focussed them it had expanded.  Mr Petrov dropped the binoculars and fell back on his bed.  The knob had melted away to reveal a mop of short black hair.

🙂

 

Posted in Short Story, Uncategorized, Writing
04 Nov 2012
4 Comments

Old Dog New Tricks

This was supposed to be a blog that was mostly about writing – only I haven’t written anything recently, nothing in English, that is.  At work I write computer programs but the switch from iSeries RPG to web front-end C# with Sequel Server has resulted in me coming home feeling utterly mind-fucked; my head a cage-full of monkeys as the ideas of the fiction I might write come and go amidst the frustration of knowing exactly what the system I am working on is supposed to be doing, but not having the language skills to make it happen.  Then the nights are full of mind-loop dreams of unsolved and surreal problems that I would never get to the bottom of, if I tried all night, because they do not exist!  And there is the nuisance of Christmas approaching.

I don’t really have the aptitude for C#.   I believe it was created by a bunch of … gents who were concerned that higher level languages were a threat; opening the IT doors to none-IT staff.  Unfortunately, it has also closed doors for some veteran programmers, and I thought I was going to be one of them.

The transition from ‘top down’ to ‘object oriented’ programming has not been sudden.  The system I had worked on for hundreds of years was decommissioned some time ago and I expected to go out with it.  I was glad to be kept on but the deadlines for the latest project were particularly tight and I found I was doing extra hours at home, weekends and evenings, in order to just about keep up.  I am lucky enough to work with a small team guys who are not only technically brilliant but good friends too, and supportive – but I am determined I will not be carried by them.

I am picking up the new skills, slowly.   If you throw enough mud at a wall some of it will stick, but all the mud that has hit and slid away has been depleting, and all I have done in my spare time is easy-reading and nosying on friends’ Facebooks.   I am tentatively confident that this is about to change so that work can stay at the office and I can put some disciplined thought and time into another writing project.

Keep warm, and try not to get too muddy 😉

Jules

Posted in IT, Life experience, Uncategorized
07 Oct 2012
4 Comments

Sunday Ramblings

Most Sunday mornings I run along the riverside path with Gandalf.  When I say run, it tends to be very stop-start, because he is a hound dog and does what doggies do in that particularly stubborn way that is characteristic of the hound.  He is a lovely companion, partly because he does not speak, and if we pick a time when there are not too many other people and dogs around, this is our special time together – and the time and place where much of my fiction is created.

Often the route is dark, dismal and muddy. This morning the sun was burning off a heavy mist, so it was atmospheric, whimsical … and muddy.  I have never seen it looking so lovely.  I had a mobile phone in my pocket with a camera on it and decided to take some photos along the way.

Gandalf used to bolt under this bridge because the first time he went under it a train went over and freaked him out.

Those are cattle in the distance, standing in an area where the mist hadn’t yet burned off.  Aberdeen Angus, I think.  Shaggy ginger ones with really cute faces.

I don’t know much about photography but was always told the light should be behind – but I was trying to capture the heavy dew and the impressive network of spiders’ webs – and it could only be seen from this direction.  That fence has an electric current running through it to keep the cattle in the field.  The path gets quite narrow in places and poor Gandalf once touched it and hollered like hell.  I touched it myself and wondered why he’d made such a fuss – but I was wearing rubber soled shoes.  Gandalf’s hu-dad went along another day, took his shoes off and touched it, and his hand was stinging for hours.

These two guys wondered what the silly cow was staring at.

The foreground is mostly cobwebs and dew, the bit in the middle is the river and the sky has chemtrails.  (Oh, don’t start on about those again).

When I took the photos, Gandalf was either up to his ears in an interesting smell, or else marking ‘Gandalf woz ere’ on it – so I didn’t take any pictures of him by the river … but here he is back home; washed and fed and no longer smelling like a swamp.

Wishing everyone a peaceful Sunday,

Jules x

Posted in Pets, Uncategorized
27 Sep 2012
6 Comments

If a picture paints a hundred thousand words: painting compared with writing

I used to try to paint pictures … many years ago. I was never satisfied with the finished effort, which wasn’t anywhere near as good as the picture in my mind that I was trying to replicate.  My subjects were usually imaginary creatures.  I would picture the main subject; maybe a dragon coiled in front of a Gothic castle, and sketch the outline but then when I came to fill in the background the mind work would begin.  Was the castle on a hillside?  How much of the background was sky and how much was land?  What kind of sky or land?  Was the light-source from the moon … if so, from what angle?  How about the dragon; was it dozing, or warily guarding the castle, or angry and fearsome?  Should the dragon be painted in fine detail, down to its individual claws, or would an impression of claws be more effective?

Painting a picture has some parallels with writing a novel.  The novel starts with a visualised scene or an idea that inspires the writer to create a plot that includes the central characters – the secret friends who are with you night and day.  You already know, understand and admire them, and you want the reader to feel the same about them.  For this to happen you have to think about the details.  How do your characters react in given situations? How about their style of speech; the way they dress, the way they move?  What sort of homes do they live in?  Has anything significant happened in the past that has shaped them?  Could some of this detail be narrated or would it be more effectively conveyed as an impression through their actions and dialogue?

Writing suits me better than painting – and not only because I get better results with no mess to clear away afterwards. When I used to paint, if I realised too late that the composition was wrong I found it impossible to salvage, whereas with a novel I am able to go back and change the beginning or insert extra chapters or add some twists and turns to make up the length if required – although I’m not sure how well that would work if I was asked to provide a synopsis prior to beginning a novel!

Lately I have been trying to clear things out of the house to make some space.  I still have my large art folder containing the artwork I did at school thirty years ago!  I can’t keep such things for ever but there are a few pictures I might hang on to. I will throw out my paints though – they can’t be much good after all this time!  I decided to take photos of the best few pictures and post them on this blog.  Then, if I decide to chuck the lot out there is still a record.  I never improved on my school work, and the photographed images somehow look better than the real things – and I like to see pictures on the blog.

So here they are …

Posted in Art, Uncategorized
01 Sep 2012
4 Comments

Screenplay Finished

I have just finished adapting ‘The Rise of Serge and the Fall of Leo’ into screenplay format.  When I say ‘finished’, I am still going to have to give it a final read through before sending it off – but the last thing I want to do with something I have just finished writing is to read it. I still have time for that later, as the BBC Writers Room has not yet published its open dates for the autumn Script Room submissions window.

Re-writing the story as a screenplay meant that I had to cut it down to its bare bones to keep the running time within two hours. This meant omitting any scenes that were purely for entertainment value; scenes that did not progress the story towards its conclusion.  Serge and Fran’s wedding ceremony had to go, which I thought was a shame, but for the sake of the plot it was sufficient to see them living happily together.  For elements that were essential to the plot but would have used up too much screen time, such as Leo’s developing relationship with his son, I resorted to a montage but regretted having to gloss over scenes that I would have liked to see played out in full.

My conclusion is that the story would make a better multi-part drama series than a film, and one day I might re-write it as such, giving it all the time that it needs … but not right now!

The BBC is not looking for ideas to produce – the script readers are looking for writers they can develop. They receive thousands of scripts each year so I mustn’t be too hopeful.  Writing seems to have become so ‘closed doors’ that I am grateful to them for offering an opportunity for unknown/unrepresented writers to send in unsolicited scripts. After the closing date for submissions, if I am not contacted with two months, I must assume they are not interested.

Whatever the outcome, I get a little dream to float on during autumn …

Jules

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing
28 Aug 2012
6 Comments

Chemtrails

Sorry to bring this up again when I already did it back in May, but I have a few photos to share. This time there is no plane – just the chemtrails. It’s worth mentioning that you don’t hear the planes except sometimes at night. These lines are made by high flying passenger planes.

The photos above were all taken this evening, from the back garden.

I took the photo below one evening last week when there had been no obvious activity and there was simply a nice sunset:

If anyone wants to learn more about chemtrails, here are links to some full-length documentaries:

Why in the world are they spraying?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEfJO0-cTis&feature=player_embedded

What in the world are they spraying?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BARt9ccu8no&feature=player_embedded

Posted in Uncategorized
07 Aug 2012
8 Comments

Oh to be invisible, or to always know what to say …

Sometimes I wish I were invisible … or had better social skills.

Running is meditation for fidgety types and I have enjoyed it for the best part of thirty years but still feel a wally when I meet anyone, especially if it’s someone I recognise.  The worst scenario is seeing a neighbour in the distance, approaching along a straight lane.  Does it look silly the way I am swinging my arms?  Would it look sillier if I kept them still? At what point am I supposed to start smiling at them?  Running for half a mile grinning like an idiot can’t be right, so should I grimace at the road right until the last minute then look up and shout “Hello” just as we cross paths?  There is also the issue that I never feel “Hello” is enough and so end up talking about the weather or something – which leads on to the awkwardness of saying “Goodbye” and then suddenly sprinting off again.  Worse still is when I start to catch up with someone who is ‘jogging’ as opposed to ‘running’.  I feel a bit of a bitch for overtaking, like I’m showing off or trying to make them look slow but I have to go at my natural pace, which is variable but generally slower these days.  My stock remark when overtaking other runners is, “Did you think you’d got an echo?  Ha ha.”

The awkwardness must be something to do with self-consciousness about being seen in motion.  At work, I don’t seem able to walk across the office without checking my watch, messing with my hair or straightening clothes as I go along.

This evening, whilst walking the dog, I had the running scenario in slow motion.  There was an old gent approaching very slowly with the aid of two walking sticks.  I was very conscious of the dog poo bags swinging from my left hand (I’ve never been the designer handbag type!) and I could see he was drawn to them.  Although the bags are black, there is something about the contours and pendulous nature that makes the contents instantly recognisable.  And this evening, I had been blessed with four offerings.

“Who’s taking who a walk?” he asked (which is a common variation on “Why don’t you put a saddle on his back?”)

“More like ‘Who’s taking poo a walk?’” I answered, with a little flourish of my trophies. He chuckled, bless him, but I cringed at myself afterwards.

I think it’s something to do with the village mentality; where people who know nothing about each other exchange pleasantries (or sometimes unpleasantries if you’re as socially inept as I am).  When I lived in Leeds, some years ago now, people I didn’t know would have thought I was nuts if I shouted “Hello” at them whilst running past. 

 

Posted in Uncategorized
22 Jul 2012
3 Comments

Sunday Evenings

I always feel ‘down’ on Sunday evenings.  I think it must stem from hating school. What didn’t help at the time was grown-ups saying that schooldays were the best days of your life. Just as well I didn’t believe them!  But then I was miserable in the first job I had straight after school – I simply could not please the boss and dreaded every day.  Only after I got another job and moved on did I learn that this woman had a reputation for bullying the ‘office junior’.  Fortunately, most were more resilient than I was.

Even if there is no school or work on Monday, that Sunday Evening feeling is always there.  Sunday: the worst evening of the week.

Things that have, over the years, shaped the Sunday evening:

  • “School in the morning” (said by a parent or grandparent)
  • Homework that has somehow been left until Sunday night
  • Double maths first lesson on Monday
  • Having to go to bed early when you got up late
  • Sunday dinner’s lingering smell – especially cauliflower which somehow manages to lurk half way up the stairs
  • Leftover cold chicken carcass, smelling like a dead body in a morgue (not that I’ve ever smelt one)
  • Depressing TV programmes that other people like to watch
  • Making sandwiches for tomorrow
  • Setting the alarm for the morning
  • Wondering what to wear and wishing I’d done some ironing
  • What if it’s snowing in the morning?
  • What if the roads are flooded?
  • Remembering I’ve forgotten to check my oil, water and tyres
  • Lying awake reuniting with Friday’s unresolved work issues
  • Lying awake yawning and getting cross because I’m not asleep and the alarm will go off in less than two hours
  • Getting cross because I had to look up whether ‘lying’ or ‘laying’ is correct and I’m still not convinced 😉
  • All that writing I thought I would have done, and I only did half of it …
  • Urm … Any that I’ve missed?

I guess Friday evening is the compensation.

Happy New Week!

Jules

Posted in Life experience, Uncategorized
10 Jul 2012
8 Comments

Is it just a case of thinking too much?

There is a blog that I discovered by chance, that I really like. I only found it recently and there are lots of past posts to dip into and enjoy.

Now here’s my dilemma. It seems natural, if I’ve enjoyed a post, to click ‘Like’ to acknowledge my appreciation. But I don’t know this guy; we’re never likely to cross paths, and I’m worried that I might annoy him if I ‘Like’ too many posts – as if I’m leaving my mark all over his blog. I have resisted the temptation to comment on more than a couple of posts. I get the impression he has a large audience that is mostly silent.

Lately, he has been posting a daily photo with a caption. So, I like the photo and click ‘Like’ on it. Then the next day, there’s a photo I like even more, so I click ‘Like’ on it.  Then the next day there’s another good one – but it wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t good, would it?  If I don’t click ‘Like’ on this one, will he think I don’t like it?  He probably doesn’t care. I’m sure he doesn’t think, “So what’s wrong with that photo?”  He sounds like a really busy chap, so he probably doesn’t even notice.

I wonder if anybody else agonises over whether to comment or not? Or do other people just do it? Or not?

Posted in Uncategorized

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