Plans and Expectations

A while ago now (more than a year, in fact) I blogged on the subject of life plans.

There's been a fair bit of soul-searching - no, wait, that sounds far too dramatic and angst-wridden...errrr...'musing' probably fits the bill a little better - on this subject of late.

Since I wrote that blog-post my life has changed yet again. This time entirely my doing.

These days, instead of bickering about whether The Fall are a work of genius or of a misreable and derranged mind, TD and I are far more likely to exchange our daily emails on the subject of our company's literature and website.

I've learned a little about XHTML and CSS and too little about Javascript.

Even compared with this time last year, I'm far less likely to be freaked out by having to meet someone, for business or pleasure, for the first time - I've done it so much that I can sometimes kid myself I'm even getting good at it (I'm not, of course, but my fakery is getting more convincing)

I can talk about s106 agreements, stormwater drainage attenuation and the implications for property owners willing to let an arts organization use their empty shop for a while. What's more, I can almost sound convincing about it...well, if you don't listen too hard and if you squint a bit.

I honestly think that the work TD and I are doing is important and engaging and is an idea coming of its time. Even if we get no work from it, the idea was visionary and something to be proud of. So we plug away with developers and authorities and with the media to try and make the urban environment more pleasant and inclusive.

I have about another 9 months before I seriously have to be making enough money to pay my bills. It would also be nice to splurge on something frivilous, too (a new lens for my Leica, or a skeletal cello, perhaps), but that's very low down in the list of Important Things.

So I might sound like a 'woman with a plan' again. Actually, no.

The last plan I had was wholly derailed by something over which I had no control. So I'm loathe to shape my life expectations to things that can be so easily fucked-over.

My nature is to be a shaper of things, not a visionary. This is why the TD/me combo works so well. Well, I think it does - you'd have to ask TD if he felt the same.

My nature is also to be an analyst and to pick apart who said what and who did what and what that might mean for whatever...thus you'd think I'd have a very clear idea of what I want from work, life and for everything else.

Again, no.

I'm relaxing into the idea that whilst sometimes having very clear ideas of what you want from life can give you something to strive for - possibly even to live for - that not having a pre-supposition can be kinda fun.

Everything from watching a pal chuckle like a kid because he's found that the points on an old railway line still work, from having a spontaneous coffee or beer with a mate you've not seen for a while and just catching up; to playing with the two-year old daughter of a friend for whom the future is the next 25 seconds can be pleasures in and of themselves.

I'm still uncomfortable when I don't have a reasonable idea of what's going on with stuff (and to be honest, that's usually people-stuff)...but instead of instantly trying to nail it down or bend it to my will, I'm much more likely to shrug and go with it for a bit.

Don't think, for a minute, that I'm now 100% satisfied with my life. There are things I love about my living on my own and things I hate. I enjoy being time rich...whilst being cash poorer has taken some adaptation. I relish the flexibility that comes with working for my own company - but there are challenges in not having "staff who do that" that need to be faced.

I think the most important lesson in the last few years has been that opening yourself to possibilities that are not too closely tied to convention is as scary as a gigantic house-spider but a hell of a way to have fun.



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Small Acts of Kindness

Picture by
Mike Stimpson








There has been a theme in my life over the past couple few days - I have been knocked out by people performing small (and large) acts of kindness in my direction.

Last Thursday GJ emails me in advance of the monthly Flickrmeet which was a little more far afield than usual - and in a place where some people (women?) might feel nervous to walk on their own on a darkening evening. He asks if I would like company for the journey.

After the meet, I was content to get a bus hom and was waiting at the stop when PG, another one of the Flickrfolk offered me a lift. Knowing that it was a fair bit out of his way I thanked and declined the offer whereupon he declared that he was perfectly capable of standing in the road and arguing to the point I'd miss the bus. So, I accept the offer.

Today is my birthday and although I keep forgetting and generally don't pay it much heed, other people have been more attentive. I had cards from the usual people who send me cards but also from CJ, who doesn't generally do the whole remembering of anniversaries thing. TD finds me some wholly inappropriate YouTube clips to send me despite the fact he's stressed and rushed off his feet.

My closest friends (they are also my neighbours) can't think what to get me for my birthday and so take me out to a comedy gig and for a meal...much the nicest way to mark the occasion.

Several emails, SMS messages, Tweets and messages on Facebook...including one from someone I've never met but we comment on each other's pictures - it's his picture at the top of the page and I haven't smiled so broadly for quite some time because it's a rendition of me taking a photograph that he liked in my photostream.

What's my point?

That in a world of people and businesses where human interraction is getting rarer, and where the Daily Mailists out there insist the World's going to hell in a handcart, and the Internet is a Bad Thing full of Bad People, it's heartening to know how people there are out there who still make the effort to be thoughtful and caring. Small kindesses which make a huge difference.

Thank you everyone...



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The difference between empathy and knowledge

Bit of an mind opening experience this week.

A long conversation on the phone with a friend. We live a long way apart so we don't get to generally natter over a coffee or a pint very often.

Recently both of us have been feeling a bit blah. For me, the work to clear space and dispose of old stuff had taken its toll.

A stuffed koala, made by me a long, long time ago had me in a crumpled heap on Sunday afternoon. By Tuesday, it was just a soft toy with a couple of associated memories that made me smile.

WTF?

Whilst telling myself it was probably normal, I couldn't truly shake the feeling that I should have got beyond this point by now or that this was not a normal reaction.

I explain this to my friend.

"I know what you mean", he says.

He doesn't mean 'I can imagine how that feels, and isn't it awful'. He means he felt like that last week, yesterday or possibly 2 hours ago.

We chat about stuff for a while longer.

I feel the tension slipping out of my shoulders and I look at the koala and smile. Now I know I can put it in the spare room and not think I'm mawkish or stupid.

Don't get me wrong - I've lots of friends who will happily support me through the bad times. They give me a hug, they give me beer or coffee and they empathise with me. They have helped me in my lurching from highs to lows to highs again.

But until the conversation on Wednesday, it hadn't struck me what a huge difference knowledge and shared experience makes.

Furthermore, it finally explains to me why my best chemistry teacher wasn't the one who was the most brilliant. When I didn't understand the concept of the mole he patiently and sweetly explained and re-explained it to me without once getting impatient...and yet I always knew that deep down he had no idea why I found it so difficult.

The teacher who had clearly struggled with his own development in the field proved to be a much more effective teacher because he knew what it was like to struggle with a concept and in passing that side of his knowledge on, allowed me to relax and learn without feeling I was in some way uniquely stupid.

It's a paradox - you wouldn't wish the difficulties you're suffering upon anyone else and yet their suffering eases yours and you hope that yours helps them.

Nothing I can do about it other than be grateful for a friend who understands. Thanks.


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Subborn Cow Syndrome

Decorator is due tomorrow. My bedroom had to be cleared for him to do his work.

The bed, thankfully, is staying where it is but the other piece of substantial furniture - a chest of drawers made from reclaimed wood - has to move into the spare room.

I was told, the other day, that I'm a "stubborn cow" because I have a tendency to do things without asking for help.

It's not that I don't know there are loads of people who would help me, if only I were to ask. Thing is, for some reason I don't ask.

So, today, faced with a chest of drawers that is about 4' wide & 4'6 tall (and I'm 5'3") do I ask for help? What do you think?






This is the beast in question. Shown with the drawers already removed and some of the contents consigned to the recycling.






It had to be moved to here




The chest is much lighter when it has its drawers removed. Even so, it's awkward.




So, faced with this what does a single gal do?



She employs a dolly. Not Tiny Tears, not Barbie nor even Action Man but...





Something "Idiot Boy" bought a long time ago and I couldn't see the point.









Employed like this



It makes the task of moving something somewhat easier.





There's the coefficient of friction between the surface of the dolly and the surface of the item versus the inertia of the wheels on the wooden floor (and more so on the carpeted surfaces) which can add a frisson of comedy but, on the whole, the whole job becomes a veritable piece of cake.


So, a few moments of manoevring and a tiny bit of colouful language later, we have the furniture in its new home.




For those of you (mostly my lovely male friends) rolling your eyes heavenwards and thinking "why on earth didn't you ask?" I know you're happy to help. I know I could ask. But sometimes there are things this girl has to do by herself...just to know she's coping.



Have no fear. Now I know I can do it, I've no real need to move it back without help. What are you doing in about 10 days' time?

Oh, and a belated comment to Idiot Boy...OK, you were right, buying that dolly was a bloody good idea....





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It's just a phase...

Busy, busy, busy, busy week.

Everything in my life has been almost overwhelmingly busy.

Building work; every day home things; work; photography; it's been all go.

A lot of all this is "the cost of doing business". The price of the pleasant position I'm in having a reasonable sized house is that it requires ongoing maintenance. Whether that's the garden or the appliances or the front door deadlock wearing out to the point of failing. I've looked at a lot of these jobs and never quite got around to getting them fixed.

So this weekend I made a list and worked my way through it. The hardest of these jobs in every sense was clearing out a room full of "stuff" ready for building work to start.

It took a total of about four hours, and pretty much every bit of mental stamina I had. In some ways it's disposing of elements of the past. This makes me feel like I'm not so much disposing of things but of a person.

In its way, this is also the cost of doing buisness. It's another step in properly taking over the house. It's hard but simply continuing to avoid the issue doesn't really help in the long term.

In the words of someone who understands better than most, it's not about obliterating the past but in recognising that the past and the future are different places.

When I finally finish I report progress to the friend who is overseeing this building project. Today he comes round and inspects my work. He approves.

Our usual chat and coffee on the back step's a little less riotous than usual. I'm pretty subdued. He's sorry he can't say anything to help - like he says, if there was an easy thing to offer, it would have been offered already.

Then he gently teases me for buying a new camera as a consolation.

I wonder how much these fine friends realise that no matter how insignificant it might seem, just showing you give a damn helps. It helps a lot.

Thanks guys.


As for the consolation...it's on its way. It won't make it better quicker...but it'll distract me whilst the passage of time knocks the rough edges off the feelings.


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The more different, the more the same?

"I don't know what your father and I had in common", Ma muses during my visit to her last week.

She then proceeds to list all the things that she and my father didn't agree on, or didn't have in common. She was right, it was a fair old list.

Nevertheless their marriage lasted for well over 50 years and ran the full "till death us do part" course, as it had set out to do.

Despite all differences, ours was a happy family and my sister, brother and I were brought up in an atmosphere of mostly unspoken love and utmost security.

My own relationship of 20 some years was founded on a mutual love of geekery - but outside of that, were I to examine it, there wasn't all that much that we shared - at least not obviously.

Musical taste was very different - when we got together the only two LPs we had in common were a very obscure album of Bach music transcribed for a Belgian guitarist, and Bronski Beat "Age of consent". He liked Glass, Anderson, Gabriel, Byrne. I liked Queen, Fleetwood Mac, Bach, more Bach.

Literature - he: Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle, Arthur C Clarke. Me: Christopher Brookmyre, Michael Crichton, Jasper Fforde.

He: Indian. Me: Chinese.

Me: Blue. Him: Green.

The more I think about it, the more difference I can find. And yet...and yet...we meshed.

I've been musing about the differences between my close friends and I - those people I spend most time with, those I email and Twitter to. About all the things that separate us: age, background, profession, musical taste, style of photography, political leanings, film preferences, play preferences, whether hills are good or evil, well you get the gist.

Then I spent a chunk of my weekend taking pictures at some events for Refugee Week. This put difference in some context, and witnessing an unfortunate incident on the bus did so still more.

I realised that I like being introduced to new things, I love being shown the world through someone else's eyes - I like that I don't always agree with my friends. It gives us something to debate.

OK, I miss my friends getting my slightly obscure references to science fiction films ('ah, he wears it desert-style') and programmes but it's really a small thing.

I try and explain to one friend how I've been feeling. He wisely points out that core values are the important thing.

Today another friend, who is going through a fair bit of soul searching herself says the self same thing.

My life is better for being introduced to new things. It always was (25 years ago I had no idea how to solder things) and I should remember that.

Difference is far less important in friendships that the things that bind us.


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I love it when a plan comes together

I'm having some building work done.

I think I'm finally at peace with my decision, having realised just how stressed I've been about it.

A fair bit of my blog has been devoted to how I'm coping as a single woman again after the death of my long-term partner a couple of years ago.

Aside from all the obvious things there have been a raft of things that maybe most people (me included) wouldn't have expected to cause so much heartache.

The building work has been one of those things.

It started with a glass roof that has needed replacement since we moved in the house about 11 years ago.

It was a bit of a bone of contention, truth be told, in that I wanted to fix it when we had the kitchen done but the more cautious man-of-the-house wasn't keen on the additional change that it would have introduced.

Some heavy rain over the winter reminded me again that the roof needed to be sorted.

Problem was, I had no idea how one went about getting such odd structures replaced. It's not part of the original fabric of the house and was probably done in the 1970's...you can imagine how badly it fits in with a nicely proportioned, Bath stone-fronted, mid victorian house.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your perspective, an architectural tech friend became available to help me out in working out how the roof could be replaced.

Then scope creep set in. The project killer.

The problem is the whole of the basement has "issues" and it seemed stupid to spend money on one bit and not sort out the other problems too.

The upshot is the remodelling of a utility room; tanking; moving a drain; making a decent downstairs loo and making a special place in the coal cellar (rechristened 'Monsters' in view of the number of creepy crawlies of which I was hitherto unaware) wherein I can roast coffee. Then there's the rest of the house almost all of which is sorely in need of redecoration.

OK - so maybe with the extent of this work perhaps it's not surprising I'm a little stressed.

But there's been more to it than that, I just hadn't recognised it until this week.

We've gone from the abstract phase of the project where I think "wouldn't it be nice to" through the agreeing more or less what's needed. Onto the getting of quotes and now it's down to choosing fittings. Toilet, flooring, lights, radiators...

So with a blank canvas, the cash to get the job done and no one with whom to negotiate on getting exactly what I want, why aren't I feeling like a kid in a sweetshop?

Precisely because part of the joy of projects like this are their shared nature.

My architectural/design/ideas friend has a fair bit of skin in the project simply because that's his nature - he takes a professional and personal pride in things being right and he's going far beyond the usual parameters of this sort of job. Nevertheless, as he says, he won't have to live with the result so he's expecting me to make decisions - he's my friend and he wants me to be happy with the result.

I have to live with the result.

And that's it, really.

This is my house. Mine.

It seemed to take Idiot Boy's best friend removing some promised power tools to make me realise it.

So...meeting with the builder and archifriend planned for Tuesday with the promise that I'll have a rough date for the work to start.

Promised drawings of cloakrooms with potential candidates for radiators tomorrow.

A quote for the decorating expected in the next week.

A trip out with my soft-furnishings adviser (M, another friend) planned later this month.

I'm fairly certain this won't be the last time I have a wobble...but it's another reminder that wobbles come, we learn from them and we move on.

Bring on the Farrow and Ball paint cards...

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The times they are a-changing

I'm in the second week of my two-site holiday.

Last week I visited brother-outlaw in Glasgow to catch up, take photos, see films and stuff like that. I also took the opportunity to meet up with another friend who lives not exactly nearby but just about within striking distance.

This week I'm with some members of my not-quite-immediate family on our traditional week "with the kids". The kids in question are 17 and 14 and holidays have changed quite a lot over the years.

Once upon a time, idiot-boy and I would holiday on narrowboats in the middle of nowhere and delight in the fact we were far away from other people. In the early days we didn't even have a mobile phone and the internet was just a twinkle in the eye of Tim Berners-Lee.

These days I place a premium on being able to stay in touch with people even when I'm on holiday. So I arranged mobile broadband before I came away and was delighted to learn that the house we're staying in has wi-fi.

As a result, rather than sitting and reading a book when it's raining (like it is today) I'm reading and writing emails to people in Inverness, the Highlands and back in Bristol. I'm also checking out pictures on Flickr and seeing what people are saying on Twitter.

Why?

Actually, I'm not sure.

Once upon a time, if there was just the boy and me, we wouldn't chat much. We'd probably sit largely in silence reading books but enjoying the comfortable companionship that comes with many years together. I don't have that now.

It's possible I'm filling that gap with the "louder" companionship of email and other electronic forms of communication or it could be I've changed how I choose to behave and now need constant feedback from other people to reassure me of something.

I honestly don't know.

So why bother to go to the time, trouble and expense of a holiday in Cornwall and then do similar things to the things I do at home?

Because it's nice to have a change of scenery and new things to photograph. The family I'm holidaying with are excellent company, even if we don't always enjoy doing the same things.

Later we'll probably all play cards and it'll get silly and riotous. The children are growing up so they no longer need constant attention but they enjoy the odd group activity.

Times change and I guess I need to get used to the fact that we all need to adapt as life moves on.

So I'll carry on my conversations with friends and a bit later, even if the weather doesn't clear up, I'll put on my coat and take my weather resistant camera out and enjoy the view of the sea.


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Simple pleasures

Today was doing some much-needed housework and "Woman's Hour" was on the radio. There was a battle between the part of me that wanted to replace the radio noise with some music on my iPod...and the other half of me that was rushing to get the work done and couldn't be bother to go and find the iPod.

The latter "me" won. So I stayed listening as I did the washing up.

They were talking about happiness, pleasure and contentment.

The usual platitudes about "money doesn't bring happiness" were touted and I'm firmly of the belief that this is true...up to a point. Money can bring you choices and remove some basic worries and that can help with the whole happiness thing.

Since switching to part time hours (for my own, selfish, reasons - I hasten to add) I have to think more carefully about how I use my income. It certainly hasn't made me any less happy that I can't just go and buy more-or-less anything I want without worrying about the cost.

The times I have been most happy in the last couple of years were times like yesterday - four of us spent no more than £20 (in total) sat in the sun drinking coffee and catching up on the Downs, then going to the Botanic Gardens for a few hours, and taking photographs.

And times like today (post housework) sitting on the back doorstep with a bacon butty in one hand and coffee in the other, putting the world to rights with a friend.

A lot of these latter conversations were a about bad things going on in the world and how it made us variously mad and depressed.

This links back to the Woman's Hour article - when one speaker said "I don't think that humans are on the planet to be happy and content because it's being discontented that gets the bad things changed"

I don't think either my friend or I are going to change the injustices that we got so exercised about today...but I'm inclined to agree that a little discontentment is probably good to stop complacency setting.

On a lighter note, we also surmised what would happen if an alien came and visited and looked at us all typing on QWERTY keyboards, given the dilberate inefficiencies built into the layout.

Such conversations can't be predicted or contrived, in my experience, but gave us both cause to laugh....and that's worth more than money, any day.


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Drinks vs Gender - Update

So, it turns out that I was right. A few of my male friends think I'm exagerating the whole "I get given the wrong drinks cos I'm a girl who drinks boys' drinks" thing.

They don't tell me as much but two further incidents with the doubters in tow caused a simultaneous "I told you so" and giggle.

DrC meets me for a swift evening drink. I umm and ahm quite loudly in the hearing of the new landlord of my local as to what beer I might drink.

After I decide, DrC declares it's his turn to buy and so orders a pint of Golden Hare and a pint of Coke.


Landlord looks me straight in the eye and says "would you like ice in that?"

"In my beer? No thanks..."

DrC catches my eye and we share a moment.

A couple of days later five of us go out for a meal in a local Nepalese Restaurant. When the drinks order is taken "Five beers and one pint of coke, please".

The drinks arrive and the coke is put down in front of me - DrC is sitting opposite.

BW roars with laughter. He admits he thought I was making a fuss about nothing but now he sees it in action, he is contrite.

The considerably more charitable SI says that people's response is not unreasonable. He's an actuary and his work is all about the odds.

He gives sage counsel "in most people's experience, the woman is the designated driver, if nothing else. Also - given a random man and a random woman, the woman is more likely to drink G&T than real ale. It's this knowledge that the various serving staff are relying on".

Does it make me feel better?

Since I first blogged about it, I feel wholly less exercised by the subject. Now I'm just mildly amused.


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Vindicated

The last few days have been days of vindication for me.


Not smugness, you understand, just a confidence building feeling that I knew how things were and how they would turn out.



My sad duty, yesterday, was to attend a funeral for a distant relative. A lady who had lived a longish and full life so more a celebration of life than comiseration over a life cut short.
Nevertheless a difficult venue for me so I distracted myself other thoughts on my journey to the service.
I predicted that "The Lord's My Shepherd" to the tune "Crimmond" and "Abide With Me" would be racing certainties for the hymns.

The other day, in my blog, I guessed that TD would have no opinion about my decision to try B&W film photography. Over a companionable coffee today he admits he's seen my blog and that he did, indeed, have no opinion.

Mentally I also predicted that he'd roll his eyes at my decision to buy a 28mm prime lens...

A week or so ago a few people thought I might be twitchy about sharing my house with two friends. I was quietly confident that it wouldn't take more than a couple of days for us to find out feet around each other.

Finally, this evening we introduced B to C. B's not at all sure he wants to meet someone new. He's not had a good day and he's tired and feeling a bit under the weather. I reassure him that he'll like C.

In all these cases I have been correct in my assessment.

These days I often lose confidence in instincts that have generally served me so well. When that happens I run around fretting and picking at things that can be safely left alone.

So these last few days have given me quite the confidence boost.

Hopefully enough for me to relax and enjoy the next few days before I start annoying people with my incessant need to unpick the fabric of the universe.


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People are Great

I'm shy.



Really, quite cripplingly shy.

It comes from not ever quite fitting in. Not at school, where I liked science over history. I liked classical music over pop music and I played the cello.

Not at work where I was more interested in doing part time study for a degree in computing rather than going out to clubs.

Until recently I'd been in a long term, happy, close relationship with someone who was also shy. We didn't really need anyone else. We had a very small, very select, very special group of close friends. It was good.

That shyness was a real handicap once I was on my own. Fortunately, I've a job that makes me have to "greet people" and it's my job, when they visit my office to make them feel at ease.

I think I'd told myself I didn't like people because other people, on the whole, weren't very nice. I think that was an imperfect remembering of being made to feel the outsider.

Things have improved for me, confidence wise, but I still have the odd relapse to scary intoversion.

Yesterday I was feeling really quite low having started the day listening to the appallingly sad stories of the firestorms in Australia.

I then stumbed over this on TED. So sickened was I watching the first 15 minutes that I sort of missed the point of the last bit a little. I shared it with a friend who feels stuff pretty deeply. It was countered with this. The message was clear - "cheer up - it's not all bad"

Since "the boy" died I've met several people whom I now consider to be pretty good friends. That's in just a little under two years. Add these to the people who were already friends and that's a nice community of people.

Variously they:
Suggest meeting for coffee...just cos
Send a hug by email just because my email to them sounded a little upset
They send links to photographs, to music, to videos or cartoons that I might like or that might make me laugh.
They offer to drive to my house from their just to give me a hug because they know I've just had a little melt down.
They act as "point man" for me when I meet up with someone new. They make sure I'm safe.
They offer to cook me dinner at my house when I'm likely to spend the whole evening doing a catalogue for an exhibition
They cook me meals, invite me to spend Christmas with them.
They have me visit them and take me out sight seeing and taking photographs...they share bits of their hometown that they love.
They share their love of photography, they take me out taking pictures and tell me what they can see.
They teach me about things they love - film photography, history, architecture, stone circles.
They lend me lenses just to see what they're like to use.

It's not a one way street...I do similar things for them.

None of us have to do any of these things. We do it bcause we want to.

The number of good people I've met hugely outweighs the other sort.

But this is what Philip Zimbardo is saying in the bit of the lecture I almost missed. People have a huge capacity for evil if they are put in circumstances that will encourage it...but on the flipside they also have capacity for great good.

In short. People are great...and it's a shame it took me this long to realise it.

On the bright side, if I hadn't taken the first steps, I might still not realise it