Sunday, 7 February 2016

11 questions answered

I am taking so much inspiration at the moment from the lovely Sara of Mum Turned Mom, I'm using her prompts for poetic inspiration, I'm blatantly copying her idea of a monthly sibling picture (and more on that in a forthcoming post), and today I'm answering 11 questions she has posed...

Here are her 11 questions, and my answers.


1. How did your blog get its name?

Our family moved to live by the sea and I wanted to accentuate the positive, so was influenced by the famous song... although I got the words a bit wrong. I keep thinking of changing the name, but I've got kind of fond of Oh we do...

2. What fictional character would you most like to meet?

This is a bit self centred, but honestly I'd most like to meet my own characters, especially the landlady of the pub in a book I'm writing. I guess I know them already, but it'd be nice to hear what they say when I'm not writing it. I always have trouble imagining what they're all doing while I'm focusing on the ones in the scene as well, so it would be lovely to go to the pub and have it all going on right there... although I'm not sure I'd fancy the beer.

3. Where in the world would you most like to live?

Here - we've got a good school, good shops and good health services. I would add some more family and friends, and some blooming sunshine. Perhaps we could move the whole thing to Cornwall or lovely sunny Suffolk? That would be perfect.

4. What is your dream job?

Writing. I love to lose myself in creating a story, and I hope I'll be able to share those stories one day. I'd love to be an author! I'm working on it... watch this space.


5. What is your favourite meal?

Something someone else cooks! I'm not a big fan of meat, but love good cheese and a yummy salad. With ice cream from Nardini's for pudding.

6. What motto best describes your approach to life?

This year I'm aiming for a kind mindset - a kindset. I think caring is terribly underrated in our culture, but it's very important in life. Not sure it's a motto mind.

7. What is your earliest childhood memory?

Playing with a miniature replica aga, with my best friend and neighbour, Emily. We lived in a big house full of grown ups back then because my parents had lots of lodgers. We had to downsize after a while and I was gutted to move away from Emily.



My little brother, me, and Emily

8. What has been your most important life lesson?

Even wonderful things come to an end. And we can survive that. The end of my first marriage was pretty awful. It's hard to see that there's a way forward when your world is crumbling around you. However, that time passed, and although I'm sad that I am now less trusting, I'm glad to have learned that the wheel turns and keeps on moving.

9. What are you frightened of?

Death, sickness, pain. Still in lots of pain with my shoulder right now, and pain is scary. There's been too much death already this year, so we'll have no more of that thanks.

10. Are you a glass half full/glass half empty person?

It is what it is. Glass half empty probably, but I'd rather just drink it and refill.

11. How would you like to be remembered?

Caring, ascerbic, creative woman who wrote all the books your favourite films and TV series are based on. A national treasure.



I'd like to pass on 11 questions to you now, so here are mine:

  1. What's your favourite scent, and what does it remind you of?
  2. What is your favourite time of day, and why?
  3. If you were thrown into the book you are currently reading, where would you be and what would you do?
  4. Where are you writing this? What can you see?
  5. What would you do if you could do anything you wanted for a few days?
  6. What would be your ideal holiday?
  7. Where will you be in five years time?
  8. What's your favourite colour?
  9. What's the last thing you watched on telly?
  10. What's next on your reading list?
  11. What's the weather like with you?

Thursday, 4 February 2016

fashion blogging... (don't worry, it's not me)

The lovely ladies at Stuff Mom Never Told You were talking about fashion blogging the other month (my finger is on the pulse, as you can no doubt tell), which is the closest they've come to talking about my kind of blogging, so I was fascinated by what they were saying about how people earn money from their blogs.

Fashion bloggers can get sent free clothes, but some of them also manage to earn a living from their blog by getting sponsored to wear the clothes, and talk about them. I certainly go to fashion bloggers to get inspiration on what to wear, rather than going directly to the stores. I am especially keen on:

Sadly, most bloggers, even full time bloggers, don't earn enough from their blogs to call it a wage, so we have to do other stuff, and it's really hard to get a publishing deal for things that have already been on a blog, unless you're publishing it because your blog is already huge, in which case you might already have the money coming in.

Lately I've been working on stuff that I want to get paid for, so I've not been able to share it with you. I'm sorry about that, and hopeful that when it comes to fruition I'll be able to let you know when to buy my work.

In the meantime, I don't want to monetise this blog because I don't really like blogs that are like that, and I'm not currently taking on any more unpaid work, besides which, I'm not going to be a fashion blogger, because this:


But I still love blogging. I love joining up with linkys, and chatting with all my lovely readers, and it's also a space where I can think through things pertaining to the writing happening elsewhere... so I'm not going away.

Watch this space.

Friday, 29 January 2016

impinged: shoulder pain and getting better

"I see people with this everyday." That's what the private physiotherapist said to me when I went to see her just before Christmas.

It did reassure me to know that what I had going on was pretty normal, because by that point the pain I'd been in since I pointed at an aeroplane in September (seriously - who knew that could be dangerous?), had built up to the point where I was beginning to wonder if something was horribly wrong.


This is the aeroplane that caused the problem. As you can see, no other fools are pointing at it.
But then I also wondered, if it's so common, why has it taken so long to get it diagnosed?

Because what happened was this...

Back in September, we watched this display, and I pointed out the aeroplane to one of my children. At that moment my shoulder suddenly hurt like hell, and I was grateful that there were other people there so they could look after my kids while I walked away and swore for a while. I wondered if I'd somehow managed to dislocate my shoulder by pointing at the sky, and swore some more about how stupid that would make me.

My shoulder stopped hurting like hell, and started just hurting a little bit, but every so often it would still hurt like hell.

I found that reaching for things would sometimes be really sore. Some aspects of getting dressed (I'm talking to you tights) were sometimes really sore, and doors could be absolute agony: car doors, cupboard doors, some evil genius had rendered a spell upon all doors and I could only now shut them with my right hand.

I tried to take it easy but keep moving, and I figured it'd get better by itself.

On the morning of my birthday in October, Miss 5 jumped into my outstretched arms and landed wrong, pushing my left arm, and sore shoulder back against the bed, which made me scream, cry, and nigh-on hurl with the pain of it. Enough was enough, my family declared, I needed to go to the doctor.

I went that very day, and saw a locum who got me to wave my arms about and push/pull against him. All very silly, but he looked a bit like Neil Gaiman, so was clearly a genius. He told me to take ibuprofen and do some exercises which he printed off for me.

I did that. Nothing much happened. 

I went back. The next doctor got me to wave my arms about a bit, she sat me up on the couch thingy, and poked around at my shoulder. She got me to push/pull against her, and then she washed her hands incredibly fastidiously, and told me to refer myself to a physiotherapist. I got a little card from reception with the details. I phoned up and self referred.

I kept doing the exercises from the print off, and nothing much happened. Nobody got back to me about the physio. The times when it was just really really sore kept on coming, and it was getting harder to dress, to stay comfy through the night, and doors, those freaking doors.

One morning I tried to open the door to Semi-Chem (other shops are available), and my hand slipped off the handle. It was chuffing agony. I doubled over in the street, sobbing with pain, and people politely walked around me, averting their gaze (for which I am profoundly grateful as I didn't have anything constructive to say). 

I went back to the doctor. This time to one I already knew. She's smart and efficient, and she looks a lot like my rather fabulous cousin Rochelle, so what's not to like?

Dr Rochelle got me to wave my arms, and pushed and pulled against me, and said that yeah, I had a sore shoulder, and there wasn't much she could do. She recommended ibuprofen, and sympathised about my not getting a phsio appointment yet. She told me it was taking months for physio appointments (seriously, 22 weeks was mentioned). I didn't cry at her, but I did think of a friend of mine who always cries in this doctor's office. "What can I do?" I wanted to know.

The doctor handed me a card for a private physiotherapist. I 'phoned her straight away and got an appointment that afternoon.

I sat in the physio's waiting room scared (because pain), angry (because there should be more NHS physios - which goes into the whole NHS funding and running gubbins which is enough to make anyone angry), hopeful, and more scared, because if you're in pain for months on end it's really hard not to believe that something is drastically, horribly wrong.

She was super nice though, and gentle while she pushed/pulled and prodded me and got me to wave my arms about. She explained to me how the shoulder works, which was chuffing marvellous because I am utterly clueless, and told me that I had a shoulder impingement, and then she stood there, and said "I see people with this everyday."

I went home a whole lot less scared, more hopeful, and with a long bit of yellow latex.

I did my exercises. All of them. Every day. Three times a day, as instructed. I am desperate for this chuffing shoulder to get better.

It got worse.

Now I sometimes needed help with dressing. I was waking up most nights in pain, and I was just worn out with it all, so I went back to the doctor. This time it was the one who 'phones people while you're there. I like him.

He got me to wave my arms about, and pushed and pulled me. He called the physio and confirmed I had ten weeks left on the waiting list. He got me put on the cancelation shortlist too. He told me that he couldn't refer me to a specialist until I'd seen the NHS physio. But he also suggested I go see the doctor at the practice who's trained to do cortisone injections. He told me to take ibuprofen three times a day for two weeks, so it builds up in my body and fulfills its anti-inflammatory function. Apparently it's pretty much like paracetamol if you just take it now and then.

Those two weeks ended earlier this week, and there was still lots of pain, so I went to see Dr Cortisone, who wears Doc Martens so is clearly awesome (he was also the one who talked me down a while ago when I was thinking some incredibly dark thoughts, so he's just marvellous). 

He got me to wave my arms about and pushed and pulled against me, and then said he thought cortisone might help.

He injected my shoulder on Wednesday. I'd heard that cortisone injections hurt, and I won't say that it was fun, but the worst part was the weird feeling of something being inside your body where it shouldn't be. I'm told that it can get sore after the injection, and has had its moments, especially at night, but mostly it's been marvellous. I still can't move my arm very much but it rarely hurts like hell.

Dr Cortisone told me to be careful though, not to do too much too soon, and he also told me he'd get me a physio appointment. I smiled gently, knowing he'd have a long time to wait.

I got the phone call an hour later.



I suspect Dr Cortisone is made of magic.

Not only has the cortisone made my shoulder lots better, but I've got a physio appointment to build on this wonder today! A mere two days after the injection. 

This is by no means cured. The cortisone is an anti-inflammatory that might work for a fortnight, but I feel like it gives me a chance to get things sorted without constantly hurting myself. I also feel like I'm going to get better, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and I'm really glad about that.

Feeling glad, I spoke about what was going on on social media (because when I'm sad I don't talk), and lots of people told me they'd had it too. The physio wasn't lying to make me feel better, this is a common injury, and it's one that I can get better from, and I tell you what... 

When this bleeping shoulder gets better, I am going to keep working to make myself stronger in the hopes of avoiding this sort of nonsense happening again.

Because, as I may have mentioned before. Pain sucks.

Hope you're not in pain at the moment, and if you are, I hope there is a way forward for you. 

Bright blessings.

Thursday, 28 January 2016

Trick or Treat: A poetry post

Trick or Treat

When shall we three meet again?
A fancy spa, a pamper day.
When the hurlyburly's done
we'll kick back and have some fun.
Prosecco bubbling in the glass,
facials, nails, hot stone massage.
We'll flee the fog and filthy air;
robes of white we all shall wear.
We three shall put the world to rights,
for foul is fair for day and night.


© Cara L McKee, 26th January 2016

 

Wednesday, 27 January 2016

expecting more

I've been tripping over myself recently, realising that things I'd just taken for granted are actually problematic.

One thing is of course coming to the realisation (detailed here) that high fantasy doesn't have to be mysogynistic. That has had a huge impact on my thinking, and is making me rewrite a book, and that is good. But it's started the ball rolling, making me think about everything else I see.

There is so much mysogynistic nonsense out there that most of the time it just seems normal. When I hear a podcast with men talking about women as if they're actual human beings, I'm pleasantly surprised. When I binge watch Mad Men I'm thrilled that a rampantly sexist period of time can be portrayed in a way that subtly ridicules the sexism, racism, and homophobia, etc. (and I probably gloss over the fact that Betty could only be fat because she was unhappy).

I get bored of hearing myself argue that something is sexist, and I can't be bothered to explain to my husband why it's sexist that there's only one female character (and no, there doesn't just happen to be one female character, and no, women don't have better things to do). Also I'm forever moaning about older male presenters (on radio mainly) chuckling over what young women do, which might seem harmless, but it's patriarchal belittling in action.

It feels like the last desperate scrabble for mysogyny to keep its grip on our culture at the moment, and although there are lots of steps in the right direction, there are so many things that are wrong.

The other day I'd spent some time shouting at the radio after listening first to Mark Lawson interviewing Frederick Forsyth (on the Guardian's podcast, here), who amongst other things said that he has to research things well so that he could explain them to an old woman without confusing her, and called women who might go on dates with men 'birds'. Meanwhile Mark Lawson just chuckled. No challenging, not even gently. 

Then I listened to Thinking Allowed, which I really want to like because it's a Sociology programme on Radio 4, but Laurie Taylor drives me crazy, this time it was his interview with a researcher who had done a study on lunch boxes, predominantly prepared by mothers. He repeatedly belittled the study, laughing at the mothers attempts to fulfill the school rules of lunch boxes, and refusing to acknowledge the important aspects of the admittedly small scale project. This was not the case with other small scale research projects he's spoken to people about.

I've not read anything by Frederick Forsyth, and I'm not going to, and I know that many people think it's just his way, but what if he was talking about the challenge of explaining things to black people? What if he was using derogatory terms about a group of people other than women? 

I'm still subscribed to Thinking Allowed, because I'm interested in the research discussed, but I wish Laurie Taylor would hand it over to someone else.

The thing is of course, that this sort of thing happens all the time. I don't want to get angry, because I'd be permanently angry. There are so many sexist old white men getting platforms, and not being challenged. 

And then Zoe of I Knew I Was Next shared this little beauty on her Instagram account:

Shared with Zoe's kind permission. Thank you!

And I thought, YES!

Sexism might be normal, but it's going to stay like that unless we challenge it. Even those of us who don't want to be biased will fall into the traps of lazy sexism and racism etc if we don't expect more, expect better, challenge the assumptions. Heck, challenge our own.

Foz Meadows of Shattersnipe recently posted about Naomi Novik's book Uprooted, a book which lots of people have been talking about because it's got some great female characters, but Foz pointed out that it also has an abusive narrative going on. We are so used to patriarchal, mysogynistic, worldviews, that even those of us who challenge them can't help but adopt parts of them.

But I'm doing something about my story, and it won't be perfect, but it is a step on the path, and I'm also going to expect more of others.

I'm not going to get angry, but I'm going to name what I see, to point out the lazy sexism: The poo on the path which is dirtying all our feet. Havi Brooks of The Fluent Self, whose way with words is beautifully simply complex talks about the power of naming, and now I'm taking up that mantle.

Frederick Forsyth and Laurie Taylor and all the rest of them are probably not malicious, but they are old white men who's outdated views shape opinion, and we need to challenge all of them, whilst also being aware that we have picked up these habits ourselves.

I'm avoiding immersion in those ideas. I'll not be reading Frederick Forsyth, and I'll be naming the problems I see. Perhaps I should get some stickers printed. I'm also voting with my purse...



Simply Be suggested a while ago that I might aspire to look like a groupie (it was a shame they said that because I really liked the clothes!), and then ignored my protests, not even deigning to respond when I asked them, why not a rock star? That's fine. I'm no longer shopping with them.

I'm not going to get mad, but I'm going to name the prejudice I see and so be part of the effort to denormalise it.

I can hear some eyes rolling, but believe me, it's a work of beauty. Join me in expecting more.



Tuesday, 26 January 2016

crocheting

Is it as miserable with you as it is with me? Storm Jonas has arrived in Britain and we've got sideways rain and plenty of it. I'm tempted to just close the curtains on the day, and I really want to eat! Why do I want to eat so much when the weather is yucky?

Anyway, to avoid eating, and for the sheer hooky joy of it, I've been doing lots of crochet lately. My problem is that I have a great big never ending list of things to do, so I can't just sit down and chill out after a long day tapping away at the keyboard, because the list is bugging me. But if I'm crocheting, I'm doing something useful, so all is well.

I'm not a skilled, or fast crocheter, so I thought I'd do a big project to get me into the swing of things. I chose the Attic 24 Ripple Blanket. Lucy, who blogs at Attic 24 is an amazing crocheter, with a house full of wonderful colourful things, and a lovely, warm approachable style, plus she's from Skipton, which is a place I love and miss going to, so I love following her blog, and her various social media accounts. And I really like the ripple blanket which is beautiful, and fairly simple, and gets you into a nice rhythm. Lots of other people like it too, and you can find lots of examples of it on Instagram at #attic24ripple. Eleanor of Stitches and Seeds has just done a post on her baby ripple blanket, in beautiful warm colours, which you'll find here. And Jenny of The Geeky Knitter has just completed a bigger one, in one of Lucy's colour packs, which you'll find here.

For my ripple blanket I took the kids to the pound shop and we chose a load of colours of cheap as chips acrylic DK yarn. I got to have lots of red and green, plus some neutrals, and then they picked some colours which I tried to talk them out of. Like pink. Yuck. And neon yellow. Anyhoo, they reminded me that it was a family blanket, and so it should have something for everyone. Quite right. 

Lucy gives you a pattern of sorts with semi-random colour combinations, but I thought I'd like to get more random than that, deciding that each ball of yarn would do about six stripes, and I'd assign each a number and roll a D20 dice to pick the next colour. When it came to it though I did cheat a little. There were times when I kept rolling the same number but decided not to repeat the same colour. I like the end result: the way that some patterns and groupings seem to emerge; and I like the way that all the colours go together. It doesn't have the same grace and flow of some other ripple blankets, but it does the job for us. So, here's a wee photo diary of the making of our ripple blanket.

I started the blanket in the summer, and it quickly started to look cheerful and bright.

I did a bit at any opportunity, and so often left it halfway through a row. As the days got cooler, the blanket started covering my knees, which was an added bonus.
The cat was always happy to help.
The kids pressed the blanket into use even before it was finished.
But now it IS finished!
TA DAH!
I love the ripple blanket, but even better is the confidence it's given me to take on other crochet projects. At Christmas time I made some hats for family and friends using this simple beanie pattern from Niki of cRAfter Chick. I still mess up sometimes when going between UK and US patterns, but these are pretty straightforward. Here are a couple of the ones I made:

Miss 5 rocking her rainbow beanie.

Me, modelling the one I made for John.
I got so into the gentle hooky pleasure of crocheting that I got a load more hooks for Christmas, and some gorgeous graduated dye wool from Kasia Sabour of Rainbow Cloud, who sells her products on Etsy here. It's red, white, and green, and I've just started the process of making it into some arm warmers (because I would wear arm warmers constantly if I could), which are based on the ones Lucy (Attic 24) made and talked about in this blog post.

Here is how it's looking so far:

You can just about see that the red is getting paler, and I've built some pattern into it. Once I've made the rectangle big enough, I'll bind it up the edge (not sure how yet, haven't decided), leaving a hole for the thumb. The wool starts red and gets gradually white, and then goes gradually green, so the arm warmers won't match in colour, but I kind of love that.
I'm tempted to attempt knitting next, as I fancy knitting some socks, but I'm a little daunted. I'm hoping the wool shop nearby will run some workshops, because I've got a lot to learn about knitting!

I would like to take this opportunity to say a big thank you to Lucy of Attic 24, for sharing so much of her skill and eye for colour, it's so much appreciated, and to Kasia of Rainbow Cloud. I love what you do. Also many thanks to Niki of cRAfter Chick who has lots of little projects, great for beginners.

This is a catch up post from last year's gratitude challenge.


Thursday, 21 January 2016

Painting past Peppa: A poetry post

Painting past Peppa

Painting past Peppa Pig
in purple atop pink;
Peppa's eyes peering through
the purple painty stink.

Pack away pink lampshades!
Purple's in. Pink is out.
Perhaps another coat
will cover Peppa's snout?


© Cara L McKee, 21st January 2016