Tag Archives: writing

running standing still

This is all wholly personal. 

It always has been but more than ever , just what I think.  All written in advance  because I am about to go  down the tubes  or up a flue and I wanted  to  offer something before my worst fears are recognized and accursed technology takes a bite out of me.

Likes for annalog have been absolutely heart lifting, enormous thanks.

Money runs through the hands of  Sarah Ferguson,

erstwhile wife of Prince Andrew, like water.  She has never had enough money to live as mythology suggests she might.  So , whatever the greater ramifications are, she was nice to the disgraced Jeffrey Epstein because he gave her money.   She has done a lot of things for money, most of them worked only for a short time and financial difficulties occurred, occurred and re-occurred.   No  dough.  Heaven knows what she spends it on.

The Prime Minister

may have all sorts of moral and ethical ideas about Israel and Palestine  but I suggest that recognizing  the state of Palestine was actually a sop to his younger  MPs, who want to be seen to be being effective in their first Parliament and who themselves or their constituents are largely swayed by the horrors of  Gaza.   Of course it isn’t as simple as that – but it is.  It is called realpolitik and I looked the word up before I used it.

I have  been  very interested to see two US clinical psychologists  talk a great deal of sense: one working in media and clinically (Dr. Martha Deiros Collado, who made the point about  the addiction of anxiety I quoted) and Dr. Marc Brackett who has founded a department of emotional intelligence at Yale, whose programmes are used to some small extent in this country –  and about teaching children to express and negotiate their emotions.  The Princess of Wales  rates him. 

And for both of them – in the very limited amount I have read – the elephant in the room is parents.  

We increasingly ask teachers to do what we don’t or can’t do or just don’t want to do ourselves – just as  we  all too often ask the police to act as interim medical aides or social workers – and complain mightily when  due to sheer lack of man and woman power , they can’t and won’t.

Running standing still means none of this is new.  It’s where we are.   The names  of the commentators may change and how they package their ideas may have a new title   but bottom line, this is where we are.  Both of the two I speak of   know we have to start somewhere and neither of the two I refer to think difference can be made easily.  Hooray.

President Trump has his views.   The driver on the way to hospital  was a former Afghani farmer and he talked very intelligently about mass production of food and abuse of hormones up to and including the imbalance of the genders: more women than men

because of the hormones in mass produced food, especially meat.  This is not new  but people won’t think about it.  This is not an attack on farmers, I am not a closet vegan.  But for the majority of us who like a varied diet he talked a lot of sense.  And we have to keep on talking about it because people won’t think.  Nobody can think for you, you have to do it for yourself.  

And something happened to me last week, that I have seen on film and read about  but have never experienced before.  On the bus were a couple, Middle Eastern, neither  dripping with money nor starrily  lovely.  And she was wearing a dark grey roll necked sweater.  Not £800 ‘ worth of cashmere – but it is rare to see a woman from there in a dark colour.  And we had already grinned at each other.

Getting off the bus, I said “How nice you look in that colour !  And I am old, I am  allowed to say this…” And she took my hand.  Which she held gently and lightly throughout a brief conversation with both of them.  So  for those few minutes not running, not standing still, just breathing the sweet air of kind difference – which is currently pretty rare.

last

I was so busy reading, my coffee got cold.   So when I had absorbed the best edition of the paper for a while,  I came back into focus and reheated the drink.  Can’t stand cold coffee.  And I thought all over again of the vagaries of communication – not just modern communication – communication period.

In an  age of increasing  division, there are  two nations – those  online and those not.  When we began annalog eleven years ago  – I say we  because it exists  in communication – some  kind soul wrote and said  she wished I would  be on Facebook, I had so many friends out there  … And even then I knew, just as many enemies. 

I spit on social media. 

I am sure it has uses, some of them good,  but I like my private life.  Maybe I am the last generation who will  have any grasp of the difference between public and private life , the difference between spoken and written, any sense of “haven’t you got enough problems ?  What do you need any more for ?”

In current parlance , you can get hold of anybody.  But you can’t.  You can send them a message but there is no guarantee who receives it, what happens to it or how it is perceived.   Finding a written article about Erin O’Connor

was like meeting a friend.  I did meet her once in the street, six feet tall and colouring to die for.  I said “ Excuse me  but I admire you so much.  Please shake hands with me” and stretched out my hand.  She recognised me, we shook hands, and I told her of the early spread she had done which I kept.  She said interestedly “ But why ?   That was a long time ago  ..”  Which was  logical if you spent much of your professional life in fashion.  So  I explained:   she has a nose, I have a nose, as a definable feature we’re a group, she laughed delightedly – how you want a heroine to be.

If I were  depressed I would explain that the cost of stamps is now so prohibitive that the post will die out, or be reborn again as a private paid for service because stories about things not arriving are legion, like a Christmas card in August.   And lack of acknowledgement rules.  NOT OK.

For all those  who live through social media – even when it causes problems  (like the  12 year old quoted by a  sensible sounding clinical psychologist, who gets 200 hits

to start the day, loves them but finds the time and energy  she needs to deal with them makes her anxious) – few have any insight into the pressure.   I wonder if anxiety is as addictive as the process of using that all dominating click, while a young person would not necessarily recognise that disruption wasn’t only exciting, it was harmful.

There were always trolls, fixated people who can’t wait to be acknowledged for how they upset you. There was always somebody in any size audience and you learned to be ready and wary.  Now they have an additional credence – the message is  widely disseminated, which give sit a kind of acceptability.  I don’t accept it.

I could write a list of people I would like to be in touch with , to commend or condemn  but I have to admit  (to myself as well as the reader) that part of that  transaction is the acknowledgement.

Which is not under control.   You may write to Keir Starmer expressing concern for his response to Mandelson – not only for what  he (KS) didn’t “get” but for what Mandelson is, was and always will be – but there is no guarantee it reaches target, it is open to perception and abuse by every pair of hands through which it passes – hard copy, on the way to the bin or the shredder: electronic comment – well, how long is a piece of string ?

When I speak about communication, I mean  me to thee, thee to me.  Having written for publication for years, I accept  that the words are open to interpretation which is why I am serious about what I write,  Throw that into the public pond  – and we’re back to throwing stones into water

– the ripples go on forever.

the meaning of the word

We went through  a time when it was fashionable to talk about stress

as in “She’s very stressed” or “completely stressed out.”   Refreshingly the actress Judi Dench remarked that she was tired of hearing it, there was good stress and bad stress, good and bad sense in every term.    There are all sorts of other terms that I would use instead.   As soon as a word or a term goes into common usage across the board, I look at it sideways.  Words change in time and context.  And  like everything else, our opinions of words range from “words have power”

to “talk’s cheap”  with all the variants in between.

We are a month away from the big  midwinter festival, call it what you will.   My  hairdresser (40s) remarked yesterday  that she didn’t want a month spent building up to Christmas, the anticipation  was maddening,  marketing coercion  lamentable and what had that to do  with Christmas ?  

Whether you believe in it or not, Christmas is a story  we need.  That’s part of its magic.  As far back as you go in human history, there are stories with these components: renewal in the dark days of winter, a magical child, miraculous birth, a humble so admirable human father figure, purity, spiritual apparitions to simple people,  visitors from far away who recognized a sign – The Sign -captivatingly a star. 

And I am tired of hearing the Victorians simultaneously blamed and admired for the Christmas glut.  Because glut it is and a long way from where the story began.

At best, Christmas balances out between half you like and half you could do without.   Too often, it comes trailing obligation and an absolute inability to move on resulting in stultifying artificial interaction.   Once again, there is good and bad in this. 

If you really don’t get on with your family who are as out of tune as broken bells,

you can either manage a couple of days of observance and civility or you really have to declare “not this year “ preferably by October and stick to it.  As the last survivor of my natal family where there was pain as well as joy at Christmas, I cherish the good bits, shelve the rest and reinvent for myself with the aid of the bits I love.  This year I found the courage to decline a neighbour who wants to fill up the days with underemployed bodies.  Not mine.     And asked “what are you doing for Christmas ?”   I say  “As little as possible (adding under my breath, with a good heart).”  

But if financial insecurity continues, this will be the last year of cards

– too expensive to buy let alone send.  Every second named writer will be opining about  the year of “Christmas stress” – buying, cooking, dressing, drinking, I’d saying  “behaving” not because you believe in it but because you don’t know what else to do.  And that old cry about “everybody else does”.  So ?   Be the first to do it different.  And don’t confuse sending cards to a few people you’d like to remember with sending them because you “should”.

And my early Christmas story is the two young (20s) nephews of an old friend with a family every bit as  difficult and dissonant as the bells I referred to earlier  who is making  Christmas for them, their mother (her favourite sister), her mother (my age) and an old friend.  And the boys  abjured “Somewhere to come, all  together, food and drink and warm – it’s not about presents.”  

Bless them, let’s have a few more like that.

Money has gone mad – £29 for a nailbrush ?   £135 for a hairbrush ?   Hiked up and sold to you as a “must have.”   What about the people who simply haven’t got it ?    Harder and harder to find anything small and pretty and inexpensive.   The under two foot Christmas tree I so enjoyed doubled in price: keep it.  I could rant about Christmas food because I don’t like most of it and I don’t buy slavishly.

And I was shocked earlier in the week when after God knows what in the way of other people’s troubles,    two friends spoke to me very firmly about stress in the aftermath of mini strokes.  And I listened, I understood the meaning of the word.