Rain, rain, go away

This has been my weekend view. A wild wind that shrieks through the letterbox like there’s a demented spirit stuck in it, accessorized with rainy squalls and darkness before five, has announced that autumn has gone and winter is most definitely here.

Some people start to rhapsodize about snuggling indoors, hot drinks, fires, snow, big woolly jumpers, Christmas preparations, and all sorts of wintery goodness at this time of year. I, however, seem to turn into a cold toed Grinch railing against the weather, the crowds, the darkness and Christmas music.

I am literally not designed for Northern European winters – even the mild ones of Southern England. One doctor once told me that the best thing for my health would be to live in the Bahamas, although sadly one way tickets to the Caribbean and Bahamian residence permits don’t fall under the remit of the NHS.

Apart from daydreaming about sunshine, and wishing I was a cat able to spend all day snuggled up on the sofa, I’ve decided to try and find things about winter that I enjoy. Let’s see if I come up with anything by February!

Mellow

Today I trudged through the rain and the last of the skimpy November daylight to post my application form for the MA course I want to do. If I think about it, I get a little butterfly sensation in my stomach, because I want it to work out so much, but I had a bit of a life disaster with my last postgraduate application, where I managed to get into a course I never thought I would but the funding all went horribly awry, which meant I couldn’t do it.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that after I certain point, there’s nothing I can do, and that worrying about is a waste of my life. So I’m going to try and channel the mellow serenity of this photograph and concentrate my mind on the beauty and good in the here and now, rather than something that might go wrong in the future.

Did I just sound too much like a self help book? Maybe. As a reward for my form filling and getting wet feet on the way to the post office, I’m going to contemplate the beauty and good in a some brie and grapes and a bottle of cider.

Skywatch Friday

Remembrance

Worthing’s war memorial is both ugly and nondescript, a by-numbers marble pillar topped with a forgettable statue. It’s so forgettable that, although I’ve lived in this town for most of my 27 years, I cannot actually tell you what it depicts. I’ve often thought that the young men who died deserve something more likely to make you stop and remember.

Next to the memorial is a raised grass area, edged by marbleish looking slabs, normally attractive yet blank space. Not now though. Now it is studded with smallish wooden crosses, each one representing a battalion or military unit. In front of these stand clusters of smaller crosses, each one decorate with a poppy and a name, written in plain black capitals.

This was something that made me stop, consider the lives the crosses represented, remember that most of these men were younger than I am now. I wondered about their characters, their hopes, the people who mourned them.

I watched an elderly man, perhaps in his late seventies or early eighties, who was pausing in front of each cross-and-poppy crop. I wondered about his wartime memories, if he was thinking of brothers, cousins or friends who never came home, or someone who was in the way of a bombing raid.

It reminded me of being in the Turner exhibition at the Beijing City Art Gallery, when I was surprised by a heroic style painting of the Battle of Waterloo. Despite the Roman detailing and cherubs and general lack of mud and gore, there was a power in the painting which reminded me that these figures were real. Real men had died, and died horribly, in a battle that I was more used to contemplating as an abstract historical event to early 19th century literature.

At 11am this is what I’m going to remember: that people who’ve died in war zones aren’t just chiselled names, or flag draped coffins, or a sentence in a history book, or symbols of valour or patriotism, they were real, broken off amidst their cherished, imperfect, human-like-me lives.

Interrupted

sometimes things don't quite work out they way you thought they were going to...

Today was a ‘I meant to do this and then life intervened’ day. I spent a considerable part of my school day dealing with a student in distress. It’s a situation that took my mind over a bit, and I could write reams about it, but it’d be completely inappropriate to share on such a public forum.

I was meant to go to an after school meeting, but no-one was there when I turned up. As I was feeling emotionally and physically drained, in severe need of some orange juice and paracetamol, I went home after hanging around for five minutes. Which may result in some interesting consequences tomorrow…

Then I came home and called up the University of Falmouth about a course I’m interested in, their MA in Professional Writing. I had thought the start date was September, but for the distance learning option I want to do, it’s actually January, and places are still available. So cue frantic scribbling of a personal statement, and looking up finance options.

So, the MWT post that I intended to write kind of got pushed aside. Now my brain is buzzing but tired, my throat is sore and I’m going to find something to read or something low on the TV to watch…

Weekend Fun

Today I was meant to be going to a regional publicity meeting for Samaritans, the charity that I volunteer for. Unfortunately, I’m ill. Again. Since the middle of August, I seem to have had one cold or virus after another. I’ve been left feeling completely drained and exhausted – a quick trip to the supermarket earlier left me feeling bone tired.

I had to cancel my attendance at the meeting. I felt really bad doing it, as I think it would’ve been very useful, and I’m a bit worried that it won’t give a great impression to the Regional Publicity Officer. But, I know from bitter experience that pushing too hard will only make the situation a lot worse in the long run, so I’ve spent most of my weekend snuggled up reading or watching low TV.

This afternoon though, I broke open Photoshop to design some new adverts that I’ll send out to local media. It was quite a challenge, as I had to pore over the old and new branding guidelines, to create something that can be easily read and understood by as many people as possible, even when it’s quite small.

This is my first attempt, which has been sent out to be our Christmas advert:

Miss Mentor

Every final year student in my high school is assigned a mentor, and had my first ever mentoring session today. I was torn between a ‘I hope I do this right and don’t inadvertently screw up this boy’s life’ first time nerves, and bleak amusement at the idea that me, of all people, was going to sit down and advise someone on what to do with their lives.

It went surprisingly well, and, for the first time since I started this job, I actually left the school feeling like I might have done something worthwhile. It was so good to sit down and talk to and get to know a student, reminding me of what I miss about teaching in China.

Even better was working out a plan together to help him solve a couple of problems he was having with his work, and resolving quite a major anxiety he had about one subject. His thanks at the end went straight to my heart, and I felt the powerful jolt of be recognised as and recognising a full human being rather than another fleeting, one-dimensional face.

I also realised that maybe I need to mentor myself. I know this is in serious danger of tipping into a swamp of ‘self-help’ clichés, but… I’m very good at deciding that what I want is quite ridiculous and impossible, before I’ve even admitted to myself that I want it, let alone tried to work out how I could go about getting it.

It doesn’t help that the last few months have meant that timeworn insecurities have resurfaced, knocking my confidence and faith in myself back down like a practiced prize fighter. I need to start assessing myself realistically, and stop chasing suitable chimeras – things that I will fail at, because I have no real desire or passion for them, that only reinforce the voice in my head that says ‘Don’t even think about, save yourself the disappointment, it’s not worth the time just to fail’.

As I was congratulating my student on his achievements, I realised that had these been my GCSE grades, I would’ve considered myself a complete failure. Leaving aside any differences in ability, why can’t I treat myself like I treat other people. Talking to a friend or student, I would never obsess on their weakest point, blowing it up until it eclipsed everything else. But yet I seem to find that a reasonable way to treat myself, and then I wonder why I end up frozen with self doubt.

I need to follow my own advice, and set some targets, and actually do them rather than just thinking about it, see what I can do.

Doorways: Dog Days

Ok, so there's no actual doorway seen, but this is the view through the doorway of the pier amusement arcade. It's something that I cast my eye over without really seeing, until my brain processed the unusual addition of the toy spaniel.

I wondered if he'd been selling the family valuables to fuel his addiction to the penny pushing machines, although it must be terribly difficult operating the button with paws... I hope at least the attendant provides him with some steps, and perhaps let him swop his winnings for dog chews.


I couldn't really decide whether I liked this best in b+w or colour, what do you think?