Disconnecting - or not

It's supposed to be a good thing to put your phone down, right?

Disconnecting, switching off your phone with its constant barrage of e-mails and social media notifications is supposed to be calming and relaxing. Switch it off, leave any problems behind, and just enjoy the moment.That's what everybody says.
Well, after a weekend away with no wifi and little phone coverage, I have to disagree.

We went away to Appleby-in-Westmorland a couple of weeks ago, and, although I knew when I booked the cottage that there was no wifi included, I'd automatically assumed I'd have phone signal and therefore connection to the web and general outside world. Discovering there wasn't nearly had me panicking!

I'd been prepared to go without social media for a couple of days - unbelievably I can actually survive without it, although it's very strange to do so - but I like to stay in touch with my family. I won't leave my phone downstairs at bedtime; it comes with me in case anyone wants to contact me at night. It's a habit I got into when my parents were old and frail, and could have needed help at any time of day, but I still like my phone to be at hand in case either of my daughters want to contact me, even if only for a chat. Normally, the last thing I do at night, the first thing I do in the morning is check my phone for any messages from them. Generally there's nothing, but, without the possibility of checking, I couldn't get away from the dreadful feeling that I'd be wanted.

My unsettledness carried on into daytime as well. Leaving the cottage in the morning, the first thing I wanted to do was check my phone. Last thing at night before we returned, I was the same - actually wanting to stay out longer and later 'just in case'. It's not the way to spend a relaxing break. I found it all too stressful.
So in future, don't expect me to be disconnecting from the world. I'll actually be more particular about wifi availability; that way I'll get more peace and quiet.

Resolutions again - 2019

Here we go with another new year, full of good intentions and resolutions.



I recently saw one of those word search squares that are supposed to predict what the coming year holds in store for you based on the words you spot first - mine were nachos, love, and wealth - but while I'm waiting for these delights to show up I'm going to try more practical measures




Last year was one in which external factors took over my life. This year could easily turn out the same way, so I'm determined to take charge of the bits of my life which I can control - from losing weight to finishing that Swedish Duolingo course. Primarily, I want to de-clutter my life, so I have more time to give to the things I really enjoy.


First to go is the online rubbish. I love social media so, no, I don't mean cutting down back on on-line chattering, but some things have to go - which means culling my social media 'friends', and unsubscribing from a stash of e-mails.
 Most of the folk I know online I chat to, we comment on each other's blog posts, tweets, FB updates, etc BUT there are lots of followers and friends that I haven't had a conversation with EVER. These guys are going.
I have an e-mail inbox that's straining every morning from notifications of all sorts. Obviously I can't delete the lot but so many are unwanted, and these have to go. Some I've signed up for as part of a competition but some seem totally random - I'd NEVER have signed up for cruise holidays so that was easily the first one to go.

Art and Crafts - inspired by making a jacket for my grandson in little over a week, I'm determined to pick up my knitting needles again. I've treated myself to some lovely maroon yarn in the sales with definite plans on what to knit with it, but also I need to clear the yarn stash that fills so many drawers and cupboards. Also, I'd like to add in the intention to take part in something more creative - embroidery, painting, dress-making, anything really though I'm not sure what yet. Again  this will have an added advantage of using up hoarded yarn, material, craft supplies, and making some space.

Taking charge of the garden. OK, winter isn't the best time to tackle it but it's got pretty neglected out there, and this IS a good time for planning - deciding what needs to be cut back, ordering seeds, and perhaps making a monthly planner of what I'd like to do and when.

Another thing to get on top of is the book blog. I've continued to read for the last few months but not find time to review, so there's a lot of catching up to do. Meanwhile, I've signed up to the Penguin Books classic books reading challenge - more details here - It's a bit of a cheat as I knew before I saw the list that I'd have read several already - turns out that if you include watching plays instead of reading them there are only two new books there - The Picture of Dorian Gray and The Communist Manifesto. Still, it's a good excuse to re-read some oldies.
Also after several months absence I've decided it's time to get back out to Book Club at my local Waterstones. It also ties in with my 'mini adventures' idea (see below) by getting out alone for an evening and seeing new people.


This is the other aspect to the year - inspired by the cover of my diary, I intend to make this year, as much as possible, one of mini adventures - small probably barely befitting the name 'adventure'. It's a sort of follow-on to last years's Sixty Things, continuing as #trysomethingnew. I expect that, as for the past few years, I'll have little chance of a holiday, so my adventures will be very much based around home - new places to walk, exhibitions to see, bands to watch. No matter what your age, no matter how restricted your life, there's always something new to be discovered. Let's see how many things I can find this year.

And, somewhere, somehow, I'll be so busy that all my extra weight will magically disappear :)

Finding time to grieve.

About this time last week, I left my mum sleeping fairly peacefully while the sun set through her care home bedroom window. Next morning at 5 she died.
It wasn't a surprise. My mum was 97, had been suffering from dementia for several years, and this summer marked a real downturn in her health. Doctors had warned there was nothing they could do, and one morning we received the 'come quickly' phone call that we'd been dreading, then spent three anxious days sitting by mum's bedside - but there's a world of difference between expecting such an event, and it actually occurring.

Since then, life has been one long whirlwind, chasing round trying to keep up with all the bureaucracy that follows death. Instead of taking time to come to terms with the shock, we had to be out and about visiting doctors, funeral directors, and registrars. There are forms to be filled, decisions to be made - about flowers, cars, a notice in the local paper, what we'd like to do with the ashes (fortunately my dad seemed better prepared for some of these than I was). Neighbours and distant relatives have to be informed. Wardrobes had to be checked for suitable funeral attire, and my dad taken on a shopping trip for new shoes. I've learned about official 'registry' ink (it turns from blue to black as it dries, and etches the words into the paper). For the first time ever, I've been into the pub next door to the house I grew up in. And one day, wanting to be sure we'd got funeral arrangements and memorials sorted exactly as my dad wants, we went to visit the local churchyard. I remember playing there as a child, when it was overrun with long grass which hid grass snakes; now it's looked after by the council, the grass is regularly cut, and presumably the snakes have gone elsewhere, but it's far bleaker and windier than I remember.
It's left me feeling like one of those cartoon characters run over by a steamroller - an absolutely flat, two dimensional, cardboard cut-out of a person. And in amongst all this there seems to have been little time to grieve.

Evening has been the only free part of the day, and by then I've just been ready to flop on a sofa and sleep. I've always found though that getting outside, either pottering round the garden or walking, helps reduce stress for me, so one day, in last week's strangely warm weather, I went out dog walking at sunset, and collected seeds from ash, beech, sweet chestnut, and rowan which, along with a conker from the care home car park, will hopefully grow into a bonsai remembrance wood for my mum.


Through all this, my favourite support group, social media, has been there with sympathy, virtual hugs, love, and advice, and I can't thank everyone enough for all their support.

We've now reached a hiatus. All the immediate paperwork is sorted, but the funeral can't be held for several weeks. It's a strange, numb time, and, although I feel comparatively ok for now, I fear grief is waiting like a huge 'seventh wave' to rush back in.

Why I won't be leaving Twitter

Twitter is awash, once again, with folk saying how bad social media, particularly Twitter itself, is for you. Scroll through your feed for a while and you'll soon find stuff to make you angry and/or sad. To live a happy life, delete the app, ditch the phone. Or so they say.
Well, ever the argumentative type, I disagree.

For me, Twitter has become a replacement for the gossip at the school gate. I post about the sort of things I'd discuss casually with friends - where I went at weekend (some stately home or out for a gig) what I'm having for dinner (whether it's made with allotment veg, or something from a tin made to look fancy), how the garden's doing, a good book I've read, tv programmes I've watched - and look forward to similar posts from the people I follow. It's the same casual chat you could have anywhere. But it reflects real life, which isn't happy and sunny all the time, so it's also a place I go when I need cheering up, and a 'you ok, hun? Take care' lightens my day, and I hope that if they need it, I offer that same support to others.

What about real friends, though? Aren't they so much more important? Well, no doubt they are, but take for example my current situation. I'm rushing round from hospital to care home coping with my ill parents. I don't have time to go visit friends for coffee and support. Twitter is there at the press of a button. Equally, in the time-consuming but mind-numbing state I'm in right now, to be able either first thing or at the end of the day, or even if the person you're visiting has fallen asleep, to be able to pop onto social media, to share a little in other people's lives, to check that somewhere life is going on as normal, helps tremendously.

I'm sure there are bad aspects - body-shaming, bullying, envy, political arguments that rapidly drop to name-calling level - but I've hardly ever encountered them.  If you happen to be a well known public figure things are undoubtedly different (some people seem to enjoy nothing more than hurling insults at anyone marginally famous), but the majority of us are normal, obscure people who won't attract such abuse, and I don't like to think of newbies being put off Twitter by thinking it's all about trolls and angry rants. Just as in that group of mums waiting at the school gate, there'll be ones who want to be the centre of attention, some who always seem to be up in arms about something (trivial or serious), others who seem to get most pleasure from bitching about people. At least on Twitter, I can block the annoying ones. I rarely involve myself in politics or social issues beyond the odd comment here and there. I don't mind if my 'friends' hold differing opinions to mine, unless they try to ram them down my throat (if they do, they'll quickly end up blocked ).
On the whole, I've found chatting on Twitter to be a positive thing. As a book blogger, I've got in touch with authors, publicists and publishers, and got the low down on upcoming releases. As a 'private' person, I've discovered new bands, new places to visit, swapped recipes, held a virtual hand when someone needed it. It's like being back in the playground - be careful who you hang out with!

A "Half-full" Week - despite parents' health problems

Since the beginning of the year we seem to have been in a loop of disruptions, and just when I thought things were settling down, after earlier-than-expected grandson, colds, my daughter's move, and then the snow, something else came along to throw everything pear-shaped. This time it was health problems for my parents. Something comparatively minor really - apart from the fact that if you're in your late 90s NOTHING is ever minor, so when a younger person would be nipping to see a GP, older folk end up in hospital, and when one goes in hospital, the other goes into respite care. So we've had a week or more spending all day out, dashing, or sitting stuck in traffic queues, between hospital and care home, getting home with barely enough time to walk the poor dog (who's definitely feeling neglected), grab a takeaway/frozen dinner, and collapse on the sofa, numbly watching old Star Trek Enterprise and Big Bang Theory, before falling asleep.
Nothing prepares you for having to turn into carer for your parents, and it's been a week that's left me physically and emotionally drained. Sadly, such weeks are bound to become more frequent.
It's too easy, though, to fall into the glass-half-empty mindset, so instead I've decided to list all the good things that also happened this week.


Firstly, a competition prize arrived. A Taste of Arran gift box won through CalMac ferries in the run up to Christmas. It's taken a while to arrive as e-mails got mixed up, but it's here! And filled with cheese, chutney, oatcakes, and (my Scottish favourites) haggis, and tablet (sort of like fudge but better).

Making time on Mother's Day to take Dylan the dog out for a special walk at Shipley Country Park, with new places for him to sniff, oh and daffodils and snowdrops for me to admire.

Later that day, tea with our eldest daughter to celebrate her first Mother's Day, and look, a wonderful 'first' for me too, a card from my baby grandson.




Retail therapy and discovering a fab new (to me) clothing brand, Lily and Me. FB has been showing me their adverts for a while, and this week I thought, Why not? Let's try them - and these first two tops are great.





Food - yes, we've eaten a LOT of frozen dinners and takeaways, but one day we treated ourselves to lunch at IKEA - hardly gourmet dining but it was different (Moroccan chicken), self-service so quickly picked up, and, most importantly, on the route from care home to hospital.


Our new armchair, on order for six or seven weeks, arrived.








More food! Lemon muffins from Morrisons. I don't often shop there but we were restocking my parents' food cupboards with cake, amongst other things, and I thought it best to test these myself.




The garden daffodils have survived the beating they took from the snow, and are now in flower.









And don't forget social media. I know lots of people knock it, but at times like these it reminds me that there IS more to life than sitting in traffic queues and hospital wards

Meeting-up with on line friends (or setting a bad example)

One of the first things we make sure our children understand when they start using the web is DON'T arrange to meet up with folk you don't know in real life. But how many of us actually hold to that rule? I certainly don't set a good example, as I've been doing it for years now.

As a book blogger, I go along to literary events, and meet authors and their publicists - sometimes it's for a brief  'hello' at a book signing; sometimes a longer chat with an author who's become more of a virtual friend, and we'll discuss gardens, children, or pets; too often it's running into someone in a queue for the toilets!
Occasionally I've met people for coffee or pizza, and once,

when I'd mentioned on Facebook that we were holidaying in Edinburgh, I was invited along to Edinburgh Literary Salon above the Wash bar. My daughter, probably from scare stories she'd heard, was convinced I'd be found drunk and rolling in the gutter afterwards, but fortunately I survived without such drama! 

On Twitter, I'll talk to almost anyone, on FB, I've always been prepared to accept friend requests from anyone who moves in my sort of circles, and I've met up with people from both.

I've gone out for coffee/lunch, walked dogs by the sea, and once invited someone round for the evening while their kids were at a concert, rather than them have to spend the time sat in a burger bar.

Maybe it's more luck than judgement but none of them turned out to be axe-wielding weirdos.

My daughter went on to not only follow my (bad) example and meet up with folk she only knew on-line, but to invite them to stay! That proved to be so much fun that we've carried on offering a place for touring musicians to stay, mainly guys we know, occasionally total strangers, but it's always worked out well.

So when I happened to be chatting on Twitter to Amanda Riley, an American musician who was going to be spending a day alone in Nottingham, and she suggested meeting up, I thought to myself  Why not?

We spent the afternoon checking out Nottingham's (if not England's) oldest inn, chatting about mutual acquaintances and her future plans, and in the evening I went along to hear her play at the Hop Merchant.
Hopefully she'll be back in the not distant future, and maybe to stay with us.

Would I encourage a youngster to do any of this?
No! I'd always say safe is better than sorry.
But just maybe as adults we're a little too cautious or paranoid? Sometimes it's a good idea to step out of your safety zone and see what interesting people you can meet.

The weirdest not-quite-meeting of all remains the time I was walking in a country park and thought I recognised the person (and dog) walking towards me. I didn't say anything then - after all to have been wrong would have looked foolish - but I checked later online; I did know them and I wished I'd say Hi!

Feeling left out - and it's all social media's fault

Scotland without the rain

I'm not usually a person who feels envious of other people leading what seems to be a more glamorous life. I don't read celebrity gossip magazines and sigh over the lifestyles of the rich and famous. I hear of friends going on round-the-world-cruises or spending their holidays somewhere exotic and it's never bothered me. These things aren't my kind of scene; I'd rather be plodding through the rain and dodging the midges in Scotland.

Even so, there are places and events that I've got in the habit of visiting - Pembrokeshire or Cornwall in spring, somewhere in Scotland during August, north Norfolk in autumn, dropping in for a day or so at Hay Festival, the Book Festival or Fringe in Edinburgh - and for the last year or so I haven't been able to go, as I don't feel I can leave my elderly parents for long.
I'm a grown-up though, so I generally accept that I can't do whatever I want all the time, and I've found that social media has ways of making me feel like I'm still there. People post their holiday photos of empty beaches or quaint fishing villages that I've visited, and we'll chat online about our favourite places or things to do in the area. Events like Hay share Youtube videos of authors' talks so it's possible to sample the atmosphere even when I'm not there. In these ways it' possible to feel part of something even if not actually there ...

... BUT  last weekend I found social media wasn't helping at all -  in fact, it was making me feel more left out!

Last December I went to see a Frank Turner gig in Nottingham and blogged about it. Through Frank sharing it on Twitter I made a lot of new 'virtual' friends who are also fans ... and last weekend most of them headed off to the Lost Evenings festival in London organised by him and his record label, XtraMileRecordings.

 Frank would be playing. 

Skinny Lister would be playing. 

At the free daytime events, some musicians that I actually KNOW would be playing. 

I could still survive because I don't generally go to festivals. My teen had tickets but that didn't worry me; she's often out at gigs that I don't go to. 

But then on Friday, I started seeing status after status mentioning Lost Evenings - travelling there, meeting up for a drink beforehand, how great the gig was - and I really felt I was missing out. This is something entirely new for me. Now (at last) I know what it's like to feel that pressure to be doing what everyone else is. If someone had offered me last minute tickets and a Star Trek style transporter, I'd have been there in a flash. As things were, with no fairy godmother in sight, I decided to stay away from social media to save myself being entirely consumed by jealousy!

I now understand a little better how others feel when they decide they NEED to have or do something because their friends have it/are doing it. Maybe I'm not as mature and 'grown-up' as I thought I was!