tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33970468140820190852024-02-20T18:40:02.969+00:00 seven hundred wordssevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-89333972867406299532014-02-28T20:52:00.000+00:002014-03-02T18:01:14.453+00:00see you on the other side<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OsLcCYf0OLA" target="_blank">(David Gray - The Other Side)</a><br />
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It is time, I am afraid, for sevenhundredwords to come to an end. Over the last few weeks I got the idea of redesigning the blog, and renaming it, and then decided that in fact I would prefer to start completely afresh. I intend to leave these pages here for now, if only to redirect people to the new page, which I am very excited about.</div>
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The main reason for this decision has been to rid myself of the enforced word count. I didn't know when I started what the reality of blogging is, and I quite quickly found the need to always write seven hundred words quite limiting. Often I went over by a few words here or there, and that wasn't ever really a problem, I do enjoy editing <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/the-nerve-to-say-hello.html" target="_blank">as I thought</a>. The bigger problem was definitely those days when I had something to write, but it was nowhere near enough to reach my target.</div>
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On those days it lost all its enjoyment, either I would not bother writing at all, or stare at half written posts trying to pad them out, when in truth I was happy to stop at what I had written. So many of the blogs I enjoy are about simplicity, and I felt that I was becoming unnecessarily overcomplicated, like quite often my posts got lost part way through.</div>
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The other element, is that writing at length, tends towards the introspective, and the blog felt like it delved, a little too regularly, into the deep and meaningful. It is difficult to write something so long and keep it upbeat and lighthearted throughout, it is too tempting to err into overanalysis.</div>
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It is fitting that as I draw this blog to a close I can share the news that I passed my exam, as it seemed to be in the background in most of the posts. Not many of our group passed, it has a notoriously low pass rate, so I feel very lucky not to have face it again, although a little disappointed that those of us who went through all of the revision together haven't all had the same positive outcome. Personally though I am very glad to consider that bit of my life done with.</div>
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We had a weekend away booked and the results came through on the Saturday morning before we left. It was lovely to go away and celebrate, although The Husband's Godfather, who he was very close to, died unexpectedly the same week, so as has been often the case for us in recent times, the celebrations were bittersweet.</div>
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I have to confess that some of the other projects I linked in with, such as<a href="http://circleofpinetrees.com/year-books-reading-list/" target="_blank"> the year in books</a>, and <a href="http://theboyandme.co.uk/category/365/" target="_blank">project 365</a> have been forgotten whilst I focussed on the new blog. It was amazing how many attempts it took to find a name that I liked and that was available. I intend to pick them back up, although admittedly I am finding the new camera difficult to get to grips with, if anyone has any hints for beginners feel free to share them, here or on the new site.</div>
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I wanted to write the last post today, and start tomorrow with a new blog ready to go. I have set up a new email account and twitter handle too. I will link to the blog <a href="http://whatkatiewrotenext.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank">here</a> (when the first post has gone live), and I hope if any of you happen upon this post you will head over to my new blog and check it out. I had a lovely old time playing with html code and creating the layout, and considering how happy I was with this site when I made it, I can't believe how much more I love the new one.</div>
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I have very much enjoyed my first foray into proper blogging, and all of the lovely blogs, and bloggers, I have come across along the way. I can't wait to get going again, it feels like the first day of a new school, or a lovely new notebook, waiting to fill with my neatest writing! Thanks for keeping me company so far, and hopefully I will hear from you on the other side.</div>
sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-33946752000401505922014-02-16T22:01:00.001+00:002014-02-28T20:52:53.425+00:00back on track<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JELoEQHLDI&feature=kp" target="_blank">(Kings of Leon - I Want You)</a></div>
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February 9th</div>
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35. After a very long afternoon at my Grandad's whilst The Husband fixed his computer (the benefits of being married to a technophile) we managed to squeeze in a walk with Millie before it went dark. It was good to get some fresh air after hours huddled round a monitor, and from the looks of this shot as we headed back home we timed it just right.</div>
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36. One of the benefits of having a birthday party at home is the leftover cake. After getting back home we curled up on the sofa and I tucked into a tasting platter of cakes with some tea. Ever the traditionalist, the victoria sponge was my favourite!</div>
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February 10th</div>
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37. This was my birthday, and The Husband and I took the day off work. I decided a few years ago that, whenever possible, I would take my birthday off work, and luckily my job at the moment allows me to do that. I reasoned that as a birthday only comes once a year, even if it isn't a "special" one, it is a good opportunity to celebrate, even just having a leisurely lunch with close family provides a lovely break from the norm.</div>
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38. All the way home I tried to capture the beautiful sunset through the car window, but failed miserably every time. This is the best of a bad bunch, with plenty of filtering in an attempt to make it look artistic rather than amateur!</div>
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February 11th</div>
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39. The house is filled with flowers as I got several bunches for my birthday. Whilst roses are my favourites, I do love daffodils at this time of year. They manage to break through the gloom of winter. They are usually cheap to buy too, so I can get lots of bunches and fill the house with colour.</div>
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40. I spotted these lamps on <a href="http://www.ellamasters.com/2014/01/things-01.html" target="_blank">Ella Masters' post</a> a few weeks ago, where she showed the green version. They were exactly what I was looking for for our newly decorated study (which is still a work in progress, but I will post about when finished!). I suggested the desk lamp and floor lamp as possible present ideas to my mum who generally asks on behalf of the whole family! I was thrilled to receive a lamp from my brothers and then the set was complete when my mum and stepdad bought us another desk lamp and the floor lamp. We are thrilled with how they look, and were very lucky, as they went out of stock the day after my birthday, and it would have been such a shame to have missed out on them.</div>
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12th February</div>
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41. As I climbed into bed realised I had forgotten my photos! This was the tag from my new birthday pyjamas which was lying on the bedside table. I wasn't altogether sure what pyjamas that are "reminiscent of southern France" should look like but they are very lovely!</div>
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42. The Husband bought me a new digital camera for my birthday, having listened to me lament the lack of memory on my phone, and the difficulty of uploading pictures to the blog. This little beauty has a wifi link, and a built in photo editor, and I'm determined to get to grips with it, and use it for future photos. The bluetooth kit he bought me for Christmas is sadly unused as I haven't taken the time to learn how to use it yet, and I have promised not to let this go the same way!</div>
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February 13th</div>
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43. The moon was high on one side of the street as I left work...</div>
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44. ... whilst the sun was setting on the other. It looked like two completely different skies, and was a nice way to finish the two photos a day, as I have officially managed to catch back up! Hurrah!</div>
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February 14th</div>
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45. For Valentine's Day and The Husband and I cooked ourselves a new recipe for dinner (soy and honey cod with noodles) and had a quiet night in together, with Millie too.</div>
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February 15th</div>
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46. The red roses The Husband bought me for Valentine's Day. I normally prefer white or pink, but I'm a sucker for classic romance so these were perfect.</div>
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<br />sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-1373186957570247292014-02-09T14:21:00.000+00:002014-02-09T14:21:11.104+00:00still having fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFIjSY0amtc" target="_blank">(Jamie Cullum - Twentysomething)</a></div>
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February 1st</div>
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19. The coffee and hot chocolate after our walk with the dog. I posted this last week for my first photo of February as I contemplated how to join back in with <a href="http://theboyandme.co.uk/category/365/" target="_blank">365</a>.</div>
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20. I liked the sight of my shoes on the floor in my Grandad's lounge, as I curled up on the sofa drinking tea. The sense of feeling right at home, and the scruffy trainers discarded on the carpet, took me right back to being the baby of the family.</div>
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February 2nd</div>
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21. A Sunday afternoon relaxing in front of the fire with Millie.</div>
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22. Fish for dinner, which is a rare occurrence in our house. The Husband isn't a fan of fish usually, but for some reason he decided to rustle this up, he said because he felt guilty for giving me his cold. He was obviously proud of his presentation, telling me to take a picture as he brought it to the table.</div>
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February 3rd</div>
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23. Got to work <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/eight-oclock-precise.html" target="_blank">before eight</a>, so obviously it was going to be a good day, except for feeling rotten. The porridge and huge mug of tea helped wake me up as I cleared through emails and got myself organised before the influx of people on a Monday morning.</div>
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24. The book I have picked for this months <a href="http://circleofpinetrees.com/category/the-year-in-books/" target="_blank">the year in books</a>. I have had it on the shelf for ages, a present from my older, cooler cousin who likes to educate me on all things cultural.</div>
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February 4th</div>
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25. Feeling wiped out by the grotty cold but Millie was still full of beans. As I padded round the house in my pyjamas feeling sorry for myself she decided a game of fetch would be the perfect remedy.</div>
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26. Struggling for something to photograph (can you tell?!) I had a few goes at taking a picture of this tangerine. In real life I liked the curl of the leaf, but I couldn't manage to capture it. Still find myself struggling with taking pictures I feel proud of.</div>
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February 5th</div>
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27. The pale pink roses in the hallway proving a pretty distraction from the pile of post accumulating on the table. Easier to smile at the flowers than sort through the paperwork.</div>
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28. The tulips were a beautiful colour, a lavender grey that I haven't seen before, but on my cameraphone (my photography is very low tech) they looked washed out. In the end I gave up trying for a close up, but liked this picture, it gave a sense of them, soothing somehow.</div>
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February 6th</div>
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29. I took this picture to send to The Husband. I rarely buy lunch, but had gone out today, and got this from the shop near work (as well as some food I hasten to add). It reminded me of a trip to London, last year I think, where we stopped at a tiny cafe for a drink, perched on a bench outside in the sun. The Husband appeared with this and a chocolate cupcake covered in pink sprinkles. The woman at the other end of the bench smiled, told me The Husband was a good one. I knew she was right, for lots of reasons.</div>
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30. A last minute photo, having nearly forgotten. I quite liked the reflection of the coaster through the water though.</div>
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February 7th</div>
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31. I seem to have gone down the route of drinks and dogs this week. On a night at a quiz with my closest friend and her family. I realised I hadn't taken any pictures today so this is what was in front of me.</div>
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32. I did like this on the label. Funny what you can see when you look closer.</div>
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February 8th</div>
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33. We had a party at home for my birthday, which is on Monday. Millie got a birthday bath in the morning. </div>
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34. The efforts of being washed had obviously exhausted her, and this was before the party began! I completely forgot to take any pictures of the party, not even the table of cakes, or the glasses of fizz, or the beautiful flowers and candles everywhere. I was obviously too busy enjoying myself though, which must be a good thing.</div>
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sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-48347472532830348382014-02-02T18:35:00.002+00:002014-02-03T18:59:26.300+00:00moving through the silence<div>
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juD4ayBbHdY" target="_blank">(Joy Division - Shadowplay)</a></div>
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A slow day resting, trying to give my body a fighting chance, trying not to succumb to the illness that threatens to take hold. There has been tomato soup and white crusty bread for lunch, the epitome of sick-day food. There have been cuddles with the dog, briefly, at least, until she got restless and tried to lick me better. She is not sick after all.<br>
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I did not walk her today, my stepdad kindly did, but I took my mum's advice this afternoon and padded out into the garden, fluffy socked, stood on the cool flagstones and took some deep breaths. The fresh air felt soothing to my face, itchy from an afternoon cosseted against the cold, both blankets and the fire on, until the warmth became stifling.<br>
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A couple of weeks ago, one of the <a href="http://writealm.com/january-prompt-a-day/" target="_blank">writealm prompts</a> was familiar phrases. It fell on the second day of my exam and I never got a chance to write, but there has been the premise of a post mulling around my head. Part of it was a vent, an exclamation of frustration, at the phrase that had been oft-used in the preceding weeks, and caused increasing amounts of annoyance. The sing-song reply from supervisors at work, when, having asked about the exam preparation, and I honestly expressed my worry, of "you'll be fine". Meant as reassurance, it became a repetitive refrain, but without the comfort that was intended. It was a shared irritation amongst those of us sitting the papers, a common comment we had all heard. Admittedly the impending exam made us all easily irked, but there seemed too, to be an unthinking dismissal of the fears we were feeling, and I felt the weight of expectation added in to the mix. The pressure to pass increased with every throwaway insistence that there was no other option. Perhaps, though, I can choose to see it another way. Pass or fail, I will be fine, there is no life-changing implication if the results are not what I had hoped. The phrase takes new meaning then, it doesn't dismiss the work that went in to preparing, or the tension of waiting for results, but it takes the fear out of a failure.<br>
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Around the same time, as the syllabus looked insurmountable, another phrase started to pop up in my thoughts. At those moments when things seemed to build up, I started to ask "what would help". It is a favourite of my mum's if I call her, tears brewing, and declare that I don't know what is wrong. Even if I can't identify the problem, can I feel my way to a solution. I don't know what made me start using it in such a practical sense, but it has become my fall-back thought. Better, much, than "what do you need", as I will invariably pick sleep or chocolate. Instead it seems to give me a focus, to pick one single thing to do that would improve my mood. It seems to help me navigate my way through a sticking point, and immediately helps me unpick things that are worrying me, or irritating me, before I have properly perceived them.<br>
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So today, when I felt poorly, and soup, blankets, magazines and the puppy had all proved eventually ineffective, the fresh air worked. Followed by writing, including a poem using today's <a href="http://writealm.com/february-prompt-a-day/" target="_blank">writealm prompt</a>. I enjoyed playing with the words, it helped.<br>
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shadowplay<br>
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from hand to hand<br>
unfurling creatures on the ceiling<br>
rabbits most often<br>
which merged into dogs<br>
bending the knuckles, angling the wrist<br>
some slight trickery to make noses move<br>
mouths bark<br>
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i never started with birds<br>
for some reason<br>
but occasionally would end with thumbs clasped<br>
fingers fluttering wings<br>
flying across the wall<br>
and disappearing into the darkness<br>
to roost<br>
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it was the night time equivalent<br>
of spotting shapes in clouds<br>
creating characters in the sky<br>
or instead on the paintwork<br>
making stories for myself<br>
limited only by my imagination<br>
and light<br>
<br>
that is the beauty of shadows<br>
though it is easy to see<br>
dark distortions of reality<br>
to find fear in the eerie extensions of limbs<br>
to wonder what lurks unseen<br>
remembering shadow only exists with light<br>
brings peacesevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-26186230946545971432014-02-01T21:08:00.001+00:002014-02-02T19:02:22.416+00:00first things first<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9VwcQjum84" target="_blank">(Widespread Panic - Shut Up And Drive)</a><br />
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The first of February.<br />
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The first time The Husband has brought me breakfast in bed this year. He went to pick up a parcel from the post office and returned with McDonalds. I think as much for him as for me, and not the healthiest start to February, but it was a treat, and a surprise, and marked the start of a happy day, and hopefully a happy month.<br />
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The first trip to a new park with Millie. Since our holiday, where we had a secure field to let her off the lead, we have been trying to find somewhere similar that we could take her. There are two local parks both just a few minutes walk from us, and I always favour one over the other. Recently we remembered that the less-preferred park has tennis courts which are enclosed, and rarely used. So the three of us trotted merrily down the road hoping that no-one had got a sudden desire to play early morning tennis in the winter. The tennis courts were deserted, so Millie had a great time running off her lead, chasing a ball, flying face-first into the net at one point, but quickly learning her lesson.<br />
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The first hot drinks of the day, coffee for The Husband, hot chocolate for me, as we defrosted from our walk. Ginger nuts were dunked, and we watched a tv programme whilst the dog played at our feet.<br />
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The first visit to my Grandad's of 2014. Me, my mum and my Auntie gathered there, and he rustled up a lunch in the way only my Grandad can. From a seemingly empty fridge came forth plates of ham and salmon sandwiches, crisps, crispy bacon butties, an array of biscuits, and the best cups of tea in the world. The easy familiarity of a house I think of as home, curling up on the sofa for cuddles with my family, watching property programmes and guessing house prices, picking our dream homes. A lovely, lazy Saturday lunchtime.<br />
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The first signs that I am catching The Husband's cold. That little tickle in the back of the throat, a few too many sneezes in a row. The cold that has sent him to bed early every night this week, that has seen a few colleagues off work for weeks at a time. The cold that I was thinking myself lucky not to have caught. Plenty of medicine for me, and crossing of fingers that it doesn't take hold.<br />
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The first supermarket shop of the New Year, having opted for home deliveries these last few weeks. Which brought with it the first fresh flowers of the year too. Roses in pale pink, and tulips a delicate shade of lavender grey. Now trimmed and arranged, cheering up the hallway and bringing life to the living room.<br />
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Tonight the first episode of season two of The Mentalist (likely followed by the second, third, fourth episodes). The box set was a gift for finishing my exams, and the first season was the background to our holiday. It is a while since we have had a series to watch, and tonight we have the first Chinese takeaway of the year to enjoy alongside it.<br />
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Finally, the first day I have restarted the 365 project. I got seventeen days in and then it faltered, and then failed altogether. I have about eight photos from the last two weeks, but I fear to use those would be akin to emptying out the detritus from the bottom of my handbag and putting that on display. However, I missed doing it, deciding which moment to commemorate. I am in a quandary about how to proceed. <a href="http://www.theboyandme.co.uk/category/365/" target="_blank">The Boy and Me</a> suggested switching to a 52 photo a year challenge, but I enjoyed the daily snapshot and the weekly round up. She then suggested running from now until 1st Feb next year, which I considered. Then I thought I would be frustrated if next New Year I couldn't start at the same time as everyone else. My final option is to take two photos a day, until I have caught up. What do you think? Is that allowed? Pretty please? It is my first time after all...sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-75746868298658527482014-01-31T22:43:00.000+00:002014-01-31T22:45:32.802+00:00eight o'clock precise<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Eight o'clock often appears to be the determinant of my day. I can be in work, at my desk, after a reasonable commute. Usually I will feel good, I will have a healthy lunch and breakfast with me, and I revel in the quieter atmosphere with which to begin my day's work. Alternatively I can be dashing out of the door, leaving a trail of destruction in my wake. Usually feeling poorly put-together, breakfastless, disorganised, and with the prospect of a slow, painful drive, and a day spent playing catch up with myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Those days when things go like clockwork, anything seems possible, I feel more positive and am generally more productive. I get home at a reasonable time, cook a proper meal, and feel well-rested and life is better balanced. Yet, I am not a morning person. Getting up with my alarm is entirely unnatural for me, and more often than not I hit snooze a few too many times, and instead the second scenario presents itself. I sit in traffic lamenting my laziness and often, at eight o'clock, I have already written the rest of the day off as a bad job. It becomes a self fulfilling prophecy as I get less done, get stuck in the same traffic travelling home, and then collapse on the sofa, ready to eat sleep and repeat. It seems that eight o'clock in the morning generally is a good indication of how things will be come eight o'clock at night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I often take the all-or-nothing approach. It's either a great day or an awful day, I either succeed wholeheartedly or abjectly fail. It means that good days are great, but they are hard to achieve, when anything less than perfect will not do. Since the end of our holiday, some of my new resolutions fell by the wayside. I forgot my daily photographs, and then when I remembered, the routine of my days seemed too mundane to be worth capturing. The daily walks with Millie dropped off too, the rain and the wind bleak, making it too easy to let someone else do the walk or let her run round the garden by herself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The first day I forgot to take my photograph I felt so frustrated, like I'd ruined the project, that I couldn't possibly continue now it wouldn't be perfect. As soon as I missed one day's walk the impetus to do the next was lost. Much as it is good to strive for perfection, I realised it would be foolish to throw away a whole year because January hadn't been faultless. Just as sometimes, I can turn my day around with a good song on the radio as I sit inching my way towards work, I don't have to let a small slip up become a whole catastrophe. So in February I will focus on those good habits I developed in January that I want to continue such as the nightly journal writing, and rediscover those which have lapsed a little, yet brought me joy while they lasted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the habits I wanted to begin, and am very glad I did, was to read more, as part of Laura's <a href="http://circleofpinetrees.com/category/the-year-in-books/" target="_blank">the year in books</a>. I got two books for Christmas, and read them both this month. The Fault in Our Stars was a quick read, I thought. I enjoyed it but found some of the characters a little extreme. I found the plot fairly predictable, but I wanted to read it through. The dark humour, and the day to day reality of the characters was well written and engaging.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Gone Girl was gripping, and from the start I wanted to slow down and really savour the writing. I eventually read most of it in one long night, as I couldn't wait to see how it developed. There was a sense of suspending disbelief with the plot, yet somehow the characters weren't improbable. There were a few plot holes by the end, but I thoroughly enjoyed the journey this book took me on, enthralled throughout. I have since found there will be a film later in the year, and I am intrigued to see how it eventually translates to screen.</span></div>
sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-75088102685655126972014-01-19T20:32:00.000+00:002014-01-19T20:32:15.467+00:00the sun must set to rise<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6ZWlDks0nQ" target="_blank">(Coldplay - Paradise)</a></i><br />
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12. Looking back to write this I can hardly believe it is only a week since I took this first picture. Perhaps I can be forgiven for the dull content when I explain that I was residing in a London Travelodge, alone, the night before two days of exams. As comfortable and clean as the room was, it was not the most inspiring of accommodation. I also think my pre-exam nerves prevented me from spending too long pondering what to photograph.<br />
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13. With day one down, four of us sitting the exam went for dinner, and managed to talk about things other than the exam, at least for the most part. It was nice to have colleagues staying in the same hotel, and to meet up with in the morning. It was an intense few days, and it was reassuring to share the experience with other people. Otherwise it could have been an incredibly isolated few days.<br />
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14. I am a little ashamed of this picture, as you can see that dry January was forsaken in the name of exam celebrations, however I liked the contrast with the water and salad (although there was pizza and pasta out of shot) from the previous picture. We had time before our trains and so it was good to sit together, debrief, and celebrate that, for now at least, the exam we have been preparing for for over four months, has been done. Results will not be for a month, and it meant that, by the time I boarded the train, I could switch off completely. It was the first time I have travelled first class and I had a lovely time watching a film with a celebratory drink. I have decided to extend dry January for an extra week into February though, which I realise doesn't quite count but I still intend to do it!<br />
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15. Then straight away on a wonderful holiday with The Husband and Millie. In the middle of the Cornish countryside, we stayed in a beautiful dog-friendly cottage, with walks on the doorstep, a hot tub with views of the hills, a pamper room, which I made full use of, treating myself to massages aplenty, and also no phone signal or wifi. Although it was a bit disconcerting feeling completely uncontactable, once I was reassured that my mum had the owners' numbers in case of emergency, the peace and seclusion were exactly what was needed. We had a few holidays last year that were disappointing for different reasons, but from the moment we arrived here, I relaxed instantly. So relaxed that I completely forgot to take a picture until bedtime - hence the bedroom light fitting, which was amazing, but I couldn't do it justice.<br />
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16. The cottage had a separate fenced off dog exercise area. Being a (part) beagle, we have been told never to let Millie off the lead unless in a secure area, so it was wonderful for her to have such a large expanse of grass to sprint around. It has been great to spend loads of time with her, and did us good in terms of making sure we got out for good long walks every day. The cottage was so lovely it would have been easy to stay indoors, enjoying the peace and the views. Having Millie with us ensured we got out in to the fresh air, where the sense of stillness was even more breathtaking.<br />
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17. We visited a local beach, and despite the intermittent drizzle, just as we climbed the rocks for a better view the sun came out and set the scene perfectly. This secluded spot was perfect for a few hours walk, with stunning views, including a rainbow as we walked back through the woods. We even saw the end of it, as it hit the field, but no pot of gold to be found.<br />
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18. On our last full day The Husband finally succeeded in lighting the log fire, and the three of us curled up in our cottage, well-fed, well-rested and content. Strange to realise now how recently I did the exam. Feels like a lifetime ago, which is surely a sign of a wonderful trip.sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-2511161538503525552014-01-11T22:52:00.000+00:002014-01-11T22:52:09.766+00:00enjoying the passage of time<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhekXBbOo_Q" target="_blank">(James Taylor - Secret O'Life)</a></i><br />
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5. On Sunday we took the Christmas Tree to a local Tree Amnesty. I had high expectations, and a fantasy of trees being handed in and redistributed to good homes, or lovingly crafted into useful pine-based products. The reality was somewhat more brutal. We handed our tree over and The Husband and I wished each other a Happy New Year and stood with our arms around each other and the dog at our feet. It would have been a beautiful moment except for the whirring of the wood chipper in the background, and the sight of our tree being reduced to a pile of shavings before our eyes.<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">6. Whilst everyone else lamented their first day back at work, I was on study leave, the final week of preparation for a major exam I have coming up. Millie and my mum kept me company, and my mum has been testing me all week on various subjects from various books. However, the amount to learn has felt insurmountable for much of this week, and we shall see how it goes on the day. It has been a welcome distraction to take a moment each day to pause and take a picture.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">7. A photo taken on my walk through the park with Millie. I really wasn't in the mood for the walk that day, stomping sulkily through the leaves, frustrated when Millie pulled or jumped. As we cut through the trees the bells on the clock rang out and the sight of the church tower in shadow caught my eye. I took a few minutes to take a picture, and stop, take in the surroundings, and enjoy being out with the dog. I stopped rushing home and took a longer route round the park, heading home with a clearer head, and a much better mood.</span><br />
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8. Nothing very exciting today, I took this photo in the morning because The Husband had kindly tidied all of my papers on the kitchen table. When I came down to face the revision, it made such a difference having some semblance of order with which to start the day. Even so, it will make even more of a difference when it is all packed away and we have the kitchen back to normal. I'm looking forward to the exam being done and finally doing all of that New Year reorganising that I've been hankering after.</div>
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9. Another photo from a walk with Millie. I am starting to value the time out of the house, and have managed to stick to it every day of the year so far, along with the no alcohol and no chocolate. I would normally be so good at making excuses to get out of it, but I now find, no matter how late, how cold, wet or dark, I don't want to let Millie down, or break the habit. It's amazing how much better everything seems after even a ten minute walk round the block.</div>
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10. My other new habit is also becoming an important part of my day. Each evening, last thing before bed, I light a candle on my dressing table and take a few minutes to fill in this journal. As well as making sure I take my make up off, the opportunity to offload onto paper seems to help me organise my thoughts and settle down to sleep a little easier. My making a bit of a ritual of it, I find I'm making sure I make time for it, and looking forward to those few moments as I head up to bed. Between the walking and the journalling, both my body and mind must be benefiting from my new habits!</div>
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11. I loved the colour of the sky as I sat working in the lounge this afternoon. After being woken by rain battering the windows early this morning, it was a much more serene view as the sun set. The clouds seemed tinged with peaches and pinks, and shades of tangerine were streaked amongst the blue. I took the two magpies sat atop the tree to be an auspicious sign, and hoped their prophecy of joy would hold true when the exam results come.</div>
sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-59243730254222749732014-01-07T22:29:00.004+00:002014-01-07T22:34:20.819+00:00millie's monologueToday was a good day. I was very excited because Mummy was at home all day. She had lots of books and papers out at the kitchen table, I kept trying to have a read of them but I got told to sit down instead. I had a great big beach towel to lie on, because my blanket is in the wash. It's quite comfy, but it is more fun to drag it around the kitchen and chew the edges. I pulled it next to Mummy and lay there chewing away. Then Mummy saw that I'd been chewing her favourite grey blanket that she had across her knees, and she looked a bit sad, but anything that touches the floor is fair game I think.<br />
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Later Mummy dropped her favourite Christmas decoration on the kitchen floor, the one her Grandad got her, and she looked sad about that too. Luckily, I didn't try and eat any of the pieces, so it might glue back together. Mummy looked like she was concentrating very hard on her reading so I had a little chat with her to try and take her mind off it. I kept licking her hand and bringing her my toys so she played with me and gave me lots of cuddles. Then Mummy put me out into the garden to play. I ran around with my ball, and my rope toy that has got very soggy in the rain. I had a sniff around the plum tree, and when Mummy came to get me I was having a good chew on the rose bush, perfect for getting right between the teeth.<br />
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This afternoon we went on a long walk to the park and back, across the farmer's fields. I decided to walk past all the neighbours' houses swinging off my lead by my mouth. It was great fun but Mummy said no. Even though I went in the garden before we went I decided to go to the toilet while we were out. It would be a shame for Mummy to carry those bags for nothing. I was inspired by my <a href="http://rupertfawcettsdoggyblog.tumblr.com/post/39408189875/poo-fun" target="_blank">favourite cartoon</a>, and so Mummy got to use two of her bags and some tissues as well. I tried to help wipe it up with my paws but Mummy didn't even say thank you. We saw some geese and ducks but I left them well alone, and there were a few other dogs around but I didn't bark at any today.<br />
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Whenever we come back from a walk we stop at Granny's house for a cuddle, but today Granny came home with us. She asked Mummy lots of questions out of all of the books on the table. I tried to help by eating the book, so there would be less questions to ask, but Granny said no so I played with my Bunny instead. Granny got me Bunny as a Christmas present. He did have a bean bag in his tummy that Mummy could heat up, and then I could cuddle it at night. Somehow I got the bean bag out on Christmas Day so that got put away, and Bunny has been getting lots of attention ever since. Two of his arms appear to have gone missing, I think Mummy found them on the floor and put them in the bin. When Daddy came in the other day all of the stuffing had somehow fallen out of his head, so that got put in the bin too. When nobody was looking today his head fell off altogether, he seems very accident prone to me.<br />
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I had my dinner and enjoyed it very much, I chased the bowl around the floor for a bit to make sure I'd got all of the bits out. Daddy was home from work late so I decided to wee on the floor while Mummy was making dinner. I thought she would like to have something to do to pass the time, but she didn't look too thrilled. By the time Daddy got home I had had a little nap by the kitchen door, snuggled in to what was left of Bunny. Just time for a bit more chewing before bed.<br />
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<br />sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-2810599581785702972014-01-05T20:58:00.000+00:002014-01-05T22:05:25.430+00:00too afraid to fly<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xf-Lesrkuc" target="_blank"><i>(Train - Drops of Jupiter)</i></a><br />
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Fear is a funny thing. It would seem logical, rational, that as we grow older we become less afraid. We are more informed, more experienced, and so it would seem reasonable that the world is less unknown, and therefore less frightening. Yet, sadly, I find that for me the opposite has happened. It appears that the more I learn about the world, the more fearful I become, more convinced that there is catastrophe around every corner.<br />
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I don't think of myself as a timid child, I was sensible and thoughtful, rather than rash and excitable, but I generally think I had quite a common sense attitude to life. I found new experiences interesting, and relished opportunities to do something different. I loved trying new foods, I loved talking to strangers, I loved travelling by boat, by plane, by train, I even loved going to the dentist (honestly!).<br />
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These days though, and I don't really know why, I tend to brace myself for the worst in every situation. The prospect of flying, or even travelling on the underground in London, makes me incredibly nervous. Even The Husband has noticed the change as we have grown up together. For my 18th birthday The Husband (then boyfriend) bought us a trip to Dublin, our first proper holiday together. One of the things I was most excited about was the prospect of travelling by plane. I still remember the fact that I had assumed (based on how far an 18 year old's wage from a Saturday job at McDonalds would stretch) we were going by ferry, and how stupidly giddy I was when I found out we would in fact be flying.<br />
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Fast forward eight years to our honeymoon and I remember crying in Toronto airport because I was scared of flying home. On that occasion, I might actually be forgiven, as three men were sat in handcuffs with security guards, seemingly waiting to board our flight (although they eventually moved to another gate), whilst a solo female traveller was arguing with the air hostesses trying to check people in because they wouldn't provide her with a spoon.<br />
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In reality though, I do worry, quite extremely, about the worst-case scenario in any given situation. On New Year's day, having been walking Millie with The Husband, she was bouncing down the street on the lead, and a man coming in the opposite direction slowed down to smile at us (mostly at the puppy to be fair, she is far cuter than either of us), and as he did, she jumped up at him. Nothing aggressive, no barking, no growling, no teeth out, just shoving her soggy nose up towards him, probably trying to scrounge a cuddle. The man carried on walking in the opposite direction, and suddenly I spent the rest of the walk convinced he was going to report us to the RSPCA for having an out of control dog. Writing that now I can see how silly it sounds, and having told my mum about it that evening, she told me my New Year's Resolution had to be to stop worrying so much.<br />
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The truth is, I know she is right. Recently I had to travel several hundred miles by train, including a transfer on the London Underground. To sit and think about it I could have convinced myself of every possible negative outcome, crashes, explosions, ending up in the wrong direction, missing my connecting train. Do you know what, it went perfectly. I hopped straight onto the right tube and even had time to buy myself a yummy lunch for the final leg of the journey. I sat there feeling proud, content, and vowed to have more faith in my own ability, but also less cynicism and fear about the worst possible scenario always coming true. Four years ago, aged 21, I travelled solo to Australia by plane with no panic, no tears (except for the goodbyes at either end), and completely uneventfully. As part of my <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/its-habit-worth-forming.html" target="_blank">new habits</a> for 2014 I think it would be best to listen to my mum, wise woman that she is, and resolve to worry less. Next time I fly I'm going to get giddy again.<br />
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<br />sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-34281802064423465972014-01-04T22:56:00.000+00:002014-01-04T22:56:05.733+00:00it's a habit worth forming<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Unnh0T2Ftro">(Thin Lizzy - Dancing in the Moonlight)</a></i><br />
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From not knowing what to say, to wondering how to fit it all in to seven hundred words. This makes a pleasant change of pace. I am going to resist the urge to write, rewrite, edit and then delete, and instead just roll with it. Firstly, I'm linking in with <a href="http://www.theboyandme.co.uk/2014/01/04/tips-for-completing-a-365-photo-a-day-project/">TheBoyandMe 365</a> project, just to give it a go. I didn't know I was going to do this until today, so apologies for the pictures. In all honestly I rarely take pictures so I thought it would be a good habit to form, and when I checked my phone I took the fact that I had actually taken a picture every day of the year so far as some kind of sign. A take part in a picture a day type sign - you know the ones.<br />
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1. New Years Day breakfast including lovely homemade jam which was a table gift at a recent wedding</div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">2. Fabulous freebies that came with my make up delivery - one of the (many many) reasons I could never be a beauty blogger is my complete loyalty to Estee Lauder!</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">3. The start of The Hairy Dieters Spanish Chicken Bake recipe - a definite success and a spare portion in the freezer - even better</span></div>
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4. Caught Millie taking a break from doing the weeding today</div>
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I've quite enjoyed doing this, and plan to keep it up. I'm doing well so far with keeping up with the new habits I decided to take up for the New Year, and this links beautifully with the other part of this post today. Laura at <a href="http://circleofpinetrees.com/">circleofpinetrees</a> mentioned <a href="http://writealm.com/january-prompt-a-day/">writealm</a> in her recent post, and what a wonderful thing it is. I don't realistically think I will write every day, but I had wanted to start writing more regularly this year, and I'm (slightly disproportionately) excited at the prospect of having someone to simply tell me what to write, and help me get over the indecisiveness!<br />
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On the subject of new habits, which is today's prompt courtesy of writealm, I resolved to walk Millie every day (that I am at home) this year, rather than rely on The Husband and stepdad to share the load. It is so easy to get in from work and look outside to the dark, rainy nights and try and get out of it. Once I get out of the house I always feel better for it, and I promised when persuading The Husband to get a puppy that I would do the daily walks. Although I'm on study leave for an impending exam at the moment, I am doing the walks to coincide with the time I would get in from work, to try and get into the habit of going as soon as I get in at night. I felt extra proud today, as my stepdad took Mille this morning when he went out for a walk, and I still took her out for a second walk this evening rather than break the habit four days in. The poor pup will have her paws walked off soon, but, particularly in the midst of revision I'm starting to look forward to my evening escape and the fresh air.<br />
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I've also bought <a href="http://www.handpickedcollection.com/one-line-a-day-five-year-memory-book.html?gclid=CNH1wbKp5bsCFeTLtAod3GkApg">this diary</a>, which so far, is proving much more maintainable (real word?) than any previous journals I have had. I have put a small candle on my dressing table, and each evening I spend fifteen minutes slathering on all my lovely night creams (see picture 2!), writing my diary by candle light and winding down. It's another part of the day I've really been enjoying, and have managed to make time for each night so far.<br />
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I'm also doing dry January which actually isn't that much of a test for me as I don't drink all that regularly, however I've also thrown into the mix chocolate free January, and so far I've managed to stick to that despite the excess of leftover Christmas chocolates in the cupboard. Finally, in the spirit of new habits, I have also committed to blogging more regularly this year, and so far, so good. Four days isn't a major milestone, but its a positive start at least!sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-30808141700281408972014-01-01T22:22:00.000+00:002014-01-01T22:22:09.340+00:00let the waters still<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><u><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDLfPZkZalc" target="_blank">(Gabrielle Aplin - Home)</a></u></i></div>
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I had assumed, when I started this blog, that a little drama would be a useful addition to my writing. It had seemed obvious that it would lend itself to writing that had a bit more readability, and take me out of the realms of the mundane and everyday such as <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/it-could-put-creases-in-rain.html" target="_blank">ironing</a> and <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/i-just-wanted-to-hold-you.html" target="_blank">reading</a>. Apparently, at least in the case of my most recent drama, I was incorrect in my assumptions. I had a car accident in late November, luckily with very minimal injuries to anyone involved, which is all the more remarkable as the car ended up on its roof. All hail the seatbelt, that is for certain.<br />
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I didn't want to write about it at the time, and I still don't intend to elaborate any more than that explanation for my absence. It was more the general inertia (perhaps an inappropriate choice of noun in view of the above) that resulted that has stopped me from writing altogether. In all honesty, as years go, 2013 was a challenge. That is the best term I can think of to use. Some of those challenges were a cause for celebration. Between graduations, qualifications, redecorating rooms, <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/flaming-flowers-that-brightly-blaze.html">making over gardens</a> and any occasion where the new puppy managed to stay dry through the night all felt like hurdles that we overcame and could feel fabulous about as we landed on the other side.<br />
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There have also been many celebrations where there was no challenge involved. So many weddings, engagements and new houses for our friends and relatives, so many happy occasions to share with those we are closest to. Our own birthdays and anniversaries, and smaller moments, less grand but still worth celebrating, family meals, gatherings with neighbours, lazy Sunday breakfasts at the kitchen table.<br />
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However, this year has also had many challenges that have made it a very difficult twelve months. So many deaths, accidents and catastrophes, both minor and major, it felt like a real uphill battle just to keep getting through the weeks. Nothing really very dramatic, nothing really that every other family hasn't faced at one time or another. It just seemed all a little relentless, and it felt like we were lurching from one crisis to the next.<br />
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Once the accident happened (and our front door inexplicably locked itself and wouldn't reopen in the same week), I had reached my limit. I had actually seen the above cartoon before November and had bookmarked it, wanting to write a post about it at some point, as it had struck a chord with me. However, subsequently, this is how those last weeks of the year felt. I have been hiding, bracing myself, holding my breath, waiting for the next problem, the next issue, sure that there must inevitably be more to come.<br />
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Part of my rational brain knows that it is nonsense to think that the simple act of moving from one year to the next will have any bearing on things, yet even that fact that I think of 2013 as a particularly unlucky year tells me that I'm not really thinking objectively about it. I know, that on one hand, this day is not suddenly different from the last, there is no guarantee that 2014 will have any less of the negatives and any more of the positives.<br />
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However, I have always been a lover of fresh starts, new beginnings and clean slates. As the hours, and the minutes counted down to midnight last night, we were surrounded by family, and lovely neighbours I consider close friends. It was a happy, celebratory evening, and I felt a growing sense of relief, a feeling of being released from the trials and tribulations of the last twelve months. The Husband, my family, and those wonderful friends and neighbours, have been there every step of the way, facing the challenges by my side and joining with the celebrations too. As we move into a New Year, I finally feel positive about the last. As I look back and count my blessings, they undoubtedly outnumber the negatives, and as January begins things feel hopeful. However silly it seems I honestly feel that a new phase has begun, like I'm breathing again.sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-86706797226995831672013-11-13T21:05:00.003+00:002013-11-13T21:08:43.230+00:00i just wanted to hold you<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fT0Fe7ts-7c" target="_blank">(Muse-Starlight)</a></i><br />
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Let's talk about books. Whilst I am not a technophobe by any means, I have never really got on board with the Kindle concept. I happily make use of my phone, tablet, pc and, at least before its demise, laptop, on a daily basis. I online bank, online shop and even did a whole masters degree online some years ago. However, there's certain things that I just don't like to digitise. I have always been a stationery geek, and although I have a backup electronic calendar I prefer the paper version in the filofax I bought myself when I started my new job, and I take comfort in writing with fountain pens, and using pretty notebooks.<br />
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I am an avid reader, or at least I was when I was younger. I dare not say I do not have the time, as this thought provoking post from <a href="http://www.aplaceofmyown.co.uk/2013/11/its-not-what-you-do-its-the-way-that-you-do-it.html" target="_blank">Kelly</a> recently made me recognise that not having time for something is generally quite a subjective matter. As I said in <a href="http://www.aplaceofmyown.co.uk/2013/11/its-not-what-you-do-its-the-way-that-you-do-it.html#comment-19845" target="_blank">my response</a> to the post, we seem to be a society that equates being busy and stressed with a life that is important and meaningful, and not having time to do the things we enjoy seems to be a way of quantifying how busy, and therefore how important, we are. I thought the post was right, if you want to do something, generally there are ways to make time. We decided to learn Italian recently, and now take two hours each week to go to classes. If you asked me each week to give up two hours I would undoubtedly feel it was a big commitment, but we manage to make the time, and very much enjoy it. Similarly, some people will sit and wait for an appointment, or commute and sit playing on their phone. Others see that as an opportunity to partake in a personal hobby, be that listening to audio books, or in my case, I often write (and then delete) blog posts when I am on a train.<br />
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I digress, as is my habit. What I was going to say is that I have always loved reading, and as befits my somewhat addictive, <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/just-wait-minute.html" target="_blank">I've started so I must finish</a>, personality, once I am engrossed in a book, it is usually finished the same day, even if it means reading until the small hours. I don't read so much recently, but more because I never know where to start with choosing some books. Reading blogs makes me realise how much reading other people do, and how well read they are, and I would like to start making time to read.<br />
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I am the proud owner of a Kindle, which The Husband bought me one Christmas. He had thought, quite reasonably, that my love of reading and my love of technology would combine into a love of e-books. He, misguidedly, thought my loud comments about not wanting a Kindle was an extreme attempt at reverse psychology, or me trying to dissuade him from buying me such an expensive present. Cue an awkward moment indeed on Christmas morning, as I laughed aloud at the Kindle box, incorrectly thinking it was a joke. He had also bought it a very beautiful case, exactly the style I would have picked, but I don't think he expected it to be more pleasing than the contents!<br />
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I do use the Kindle, mostly when travelling, and can see the value of transporting several tomes in something smaller than a magazine. I enjoy it, particularly the joy of downloading and reading books for free, especially the classics (The Husband downloaded Frankenstein for me to re-read after <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/an-ending-fitting-for-start.html" target="_blank">we saw the play</a>). For me though, I would always choose a book. I have piles of them, shelves stacked, some unread, some with spines that are splintering from overuse. I like the weight of a book, feeling the paper, judging how much more there is to go from the thickness of the pages. I bargain between myself and the page numbers, just ten more pages, just one more chapter. I like things to be tangible, palpable, to buy a book and feel like I actually own it. Sometimes, traditional is best.sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-25075446610059944802013-11-10T23:08:00.001+00:002013-11-10T23:08:53.041+00:00if i had anything to say<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CerklfGdltQ" target="_blank">(Travis - Something Anything)</a></i><br />
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I cannot think of anything to write. That is not strictly true. I have started this post no less than five times now. So far it has been about the following things:<br />
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The fact that this weekend has felt longer than usual and why I think that is. If anyone is interested, my hunch is that having something planned on a Friday night and something planned for a Saturday morning helps. Not very insightful, or interesting. I wince with boredom just writing those two sentences, let alone a whole post.<br />
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Following <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/youll-be-prince-and-ill-be-princess.html" target="_blank">this post</a> I have a few more things I feel like I want to say on the topic. These posts may yet materialise, but there is something I keep trying to write about the division of labour when both partners work, and also something along the lines of <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/youll-be-prince-and-ill-be-princess.html?showComment=1384109725264#c632546660002821163" target="_blank">this reply</a> to <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/11975259590293860488" target="_blank">Harriet's</a> comment.<br />
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Last Saturday, when things seemed to go wrong, and not quite to plan, and generally a bit disappointing all round. This post was going to include a witty take on going for bridesmaid dress fittings, which at the time I thought would make a pithy post, but now I can't really find a way to make it work. I feel guilty writing a post about the experience in tones that are anything less than positive as I feel like it would somehow be being mean to my close friend who is the bride, even though she knows nothing about this blog. The fact that she was a bridesmaid for me last year makes me also feel that I have no right to moan, even light heartedly, about the process of being a bridesmaid at all. However, the basis of the post was about the sample dresses all being in an American size 2 and 4, which means however pretty they look on the hanger they are not a becoming sight on my English rose hips. It does make one feel like a bad bridesmaid, for not being that particular brand of bony beauty that is de rigeur for bridal parties (and life in general). Furthermore there seems to be a cruel irony in the new trend of vintage tea parties alongside the dress fitting, putting biscuits and cupcakes on offer whilst showing someone lots of dresses that are too small strikes me as a weird mind game to play.<br />
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Finally, two attempts to write about a restaurant. I have a phone full of pictures of lovely food from lovely places we have eaten, but still feel too much of an amateur to actually write anything amounting to a review. After the disappointments of Saturday (and having bravely resisted the biscuits and cupcakes at the dress fitting) this was the meal that saved the day and put the smiles back on our faces. Having stumbled upon it when the place we planned to go was full (told you it was one of those days),they were obviously busy too but rearranged some bookings to fit us in, and we ended up on a cracking table by the window. Having arrived damp, dreary and having had a decidedly unsuccessful few hours, we left well-fed and in a much cheerier mood. When I was waitressing as a student, my mum (wise lady that she is) told me the best service is when you can go to a restaurant feeling grumpy, and end up leaving feeling happy (though I'm sure she put it more eloquently than that). She is, as ever, right. In a bad mood, it is easy to feel dissatisfied with even the smallest details when eating out, so somewhere must be really good to impress, let alone turn that mood around. <a href="http://www.thehub-liverpool.com/" target="_blank">The Hub</a>, in Liverpool, did that for us, and meant that the night at the theatre that followed (still not confident enough to write a review of that either) was all the more enjoyable than it might have been. Good service, delicious, well-cooked food, and a great atmosphere. It really does deserve writing about, so in lieu of a longer review, The Hub comes well recommended from me, and, to round up this post, some pictures of our sharing starter, and my beer-battered fish and chips.<br />
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<br />sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-28262602677265603842013-11-05T21:47:00.000+00:002013-11-05T21:50:45.838+00:00you'll be the prince and i'll be the princess<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l6xbylPMFnA" target="_blank">(<i>Taylor Swift - Love Story)</i></a><br />
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Harriet at <a href="http://isthereaplanb.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/ive-started-so-ill-finish.html" target="_blank">Is There A Plan B</a> recently mentioned NaBloPoMo, which was an entirely new concept to me. As it was the 2nd of November by the time I read about it I thought I had failed at the first hurdle by not posting every day (looking back now I realise I had actually posted on the 1st already so I was even more silly to give up so quickly). Luckily for me Harriet is aiming to post twice a week during November, and, considering I also have an exam I should be revising for, this is probably a more feasible option. So more regular posts for November, if not every day.<br />
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When the laptop was dead, and the PC was yet to be resurrected, there was a post I bookmarked, specifically so I would find it when my technology was working more effectively. Written by Hannah, at <a href="http://www.muddlingalongmummy.com/2013/10/21/enough-of-the-myth-of-happily-ever-after/" target="_blank">Muddling Along Mummy</a>, it lamented the myth of the happy ever after ideology presented in Disney classics, as a less than realistic representation of adult relationships. It triggered for me some similar thoughts and also brought to mind a magazine article I read recently.<br />
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I don't know which magazine, or the interviewee, (I realise what a terrible attempt this is to sound well read), I vaguely think it was a businesswoman in an article illustrated with pictures of her posing in various rooms of her home, and I may have read it in the kitchen at work one lunchtime. Anyway, these are minor details, what was said is the one thing I can remember (sort of, I am also paraphrasing, having tried to find the quote by googling potentially relevant words and "magazine article" and failing miserably). She reflected, having been asked what advice she gave to young women, that they shouldn't marry young, because what appears attractive when you are young, is not what you find attractive when you are older. In marriage, romance comes from someone who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby, and shares the housework. I found myself nodding vigorously, I am only 27 but have always been old-headed (and definitely knew The Husband was a keeper when he would help me tidy my teenage bedroom).<br />
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I agree with Hannah. In fact I would argue that it is far beyond Disney that the problem stretches. The majority of the classic love stories, and their presentations of romance, fail to focus on the drudgery of domestic life as the ideal scene for love to blossom. There is the Romeo and Juliet model, where all protagonists are part of the social elite, such that cleaning and working are never part of the picture. Alternatively, there is the Cinderella classic, where one character (usually the woman) is saved from a life of such hardship by falling in love with somebody who is part of the social elite, and so cleaning and working are no longer part of the picture.<br />
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As a romantic at heart, who thoroughly enjoys the classic love story in any guise it isn't a complaint. But, having been married eighteen months, it is difficult to trust that your marriage is "successful" when love seems to be presented in a way so far removed from daily life. The Husband and I get in from work, cook a meal, see to the dog, work out whether it is bin day, check we don't urgently need to shop or iron, tidy round and go to bed, destined to sleep and repeat. It is easy to feel dull in comparison to the conventional depiction of newlywedded bliss.<br />
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I don't think fairy tale romance is any bad thing, but it is just a story. Real love needs to be fixed firmly in reality. I think love is mostly about sharing the mundane and the everyday with someone, and finding pleasure in the small things, them usually seeming better, or more bearable, because that other person is by your side. Romantic gestures, for me can be as simple as The Husband having cooked dinner when I am late home. It is about sharing the load because you care about the other person, more than you care about yourself.sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-42698970132878055872013-11-01T22:35:00.000+00:002013-11-01T22:35:18.769+00:00an ending fitting for the start<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2oTuxXjbO4" target="_blank">(The Libertines - Can't Stand Me Now)</a></i><br />
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We went watching Frankenstein last night, it was the cinema screening of the <a href="http://ntlive.nationaltheatre.org.uk/productions/16546-frankenstein" target="_blank">National Theatre production</a>. It was an excellent choice for Halloween, and a brilliant adaptation of the book. I studied it at school and loved it, and now I want to read it all over again. It asks such deep questions about humanity and morality, and the ethics of scientific endeavours. I noticed when we got in we both seemed to make even more of a fuss of the dog than usual, I wondered if subconsciously we were both guilt-ridden about abandoning our creature!<br />
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The production had the actors playing Frankenstein and the Creature alternate the roles each night. The screening in the next few weeks shows the casting the opposite way to last night; I'm tempted to go and see it the other way around. The production was directed by Danny Boyle in 2011, and it was also interesting to watch it now, following his celebrated Olympic opening ceremony, as you can see some of the beginnings of it in elements of Frankenstein. The industrial imagery and the incredible lighting designs would both have fitted straight into the ceremony itself.<br />
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<a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-rain-floods-gutters.html" target="_blank">The man under the stairs</a> at the bookshop does not work on Fridays. I didn't get to thank him in person for the lovely job he did of binding my dissertation. He was right to be proud of his gold lettering, I was right to hope that he would look after them.<br />
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The admin lady in the University Department does not work on Fridays either. I left them on her desk, I arranged them neatly, I pondered whether to write her a note, but it was blatantly obvious from my name printed on the cover, and the spine, too, for good measure, who had left them there. It felt rather anti climatic to leave them there, in silence, and slip away.<br />
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Walking to the car I discovered a hole in my shoe. I realised that is something you only ever find out when it is raining. I wasn't wearing socks. I blame the dog for the hole, she has a fondness for footwear. Back in work I submitted my research for an international conference. There was a box asking if I was under thirty. I am. It meant I could be considered a young researcher (I think they are awarding prizes). I like that in some circles I am still considered young.<br />
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I had to go to a meeting with some of my senior supervisors in my soggy shoes. I managed to tie back my hair, which had frizzed fantastically in the rain. I had forgotten about my hands though. The bright red nail polish which had felt bold and brave when I applied it on Sunday night, and which pleased me on Monday morning, has not lasted well throughout the week. My left hand has survived better than my right so I spent the whole meeting trying to pick up my cup with the wrong hand. I couldn't work out how to hold my pen so that you couldn't see my nails, and probably made myself far more conspicuous with my bizarre contortions.<br />
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It was all very silly as I actually had a lot to contribute, and I can only hope that what I said was more easily memorable than my hands. I think I will go for a subtler colour this week just to be on the safe side though. On my journey today I passed <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-rain-floods-gutters.html" target="_blank">the pub</a> again, I honestly happened to go the same route, it wasn't a deliberate diversion. The pram had gone, though the pub still stood empty. It suddenly all seemed like a lot of worry about nothing, but that does tend to be my way.<br />
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I dedicated my dissertation to my mum. It is probably the best work I have done, it seemed only fitting to acknowledge her with it, my mum who has always taught me to do my best, has supported me in striving to be my best, and has always in life given me her best. We both had a little cry when I pointed out the page and it didn't feel anti climatic any more.<br />
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sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-46256504183991960302013-10-28T22:14:00.002+00:002013-10-28T22:14:59.133+00:00the rain floods gutters<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLhglefWgDU" target="_blank">(James - Sometimes)</a></i><br />
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The storm that was predicted didn't ever hit in our part of the country, although I'm not sure it was ever thought that it would. Even so, there has been a sense of foreboding about the day, as though the wind might pick up speed at any moment. The clouds overhead have seemed heavy with threat, and although the storm never came, the rain did. I had to do quite a lot of driving today, and the journey this morning was dismal. The rain was heavy and the cars on the motorway appeared to be driving on water, each set of tires leaving small waves in their wake. Through the spray, the red lights of the vehicles in front became a guide, mapping the contours of the road ahead.<br />
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Despite the grey it has been a successful day all in all. I have submitted final copies of my dissertation for binding to a man who appears to live under the stairs in a bookshop. The Harry Potter of the bookbinding world perhaps, maybe the Kindle is his Voldemort. He was proud of his gold-embossed lettering and sewn cloth covers. He only takes cash which he keeps in one of those lockable money boxes. I like to think he will take as much care of my dissertation as I did.<br />
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On the drive from the University I saw a pram outside a pub. It was eleven in the morning and there was nobody around. It was a jarring sight, an empty pram outside an empty pub, and I haven't been able to forget it. The pram was modern, brightly coloured, and difficult to miss, perhaps that is why it caught my eye. Although empty, it did not seem discarded, it looked too new for that. I can't help wonder if there is a story, and wonder if anyone else walked by and stopped, if it registered with them as out of the ordinary, as it did for me. I have the remnants of a passage from a book about empty prams and bad luck swirling in my head, but I can't pull it together or remember where it would be from.<br />
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I am writing this post on a word counting website for the first time. Since my laptop died a few weeks ago I tried to write posts on a tablet using the app version of this website, but the posting and formatting wasn't the most intuitive process. However, having resurrected the old desktop PC, or should I say, The Husband having resurrected the old desktop PC, I am enjoying working, and writing, at a desk again. Perhaps that is why I have managed two posts in two nights, although no promises that it will continue at quite the same rate.<br />
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What I like about this website is that, as well as counting the words, it also analyses the frequency of keywords in the writing, and works out which words are occurring most commonly within the post. I can see this becoming interesting in the future, particularly on days like this when I'm writing without a real sense of where the content might be going. I'm sure some psychoanalysis beckons based on my most used terminology, at the very least some version of a word association game could be construed. My top three words at the moment are:<br />
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Make of that what you will, although (there I go again with that one) I have to say it isn't the most auspicious summary for a blog post. Not exactly sounding like a riveting read based on that. I have half written so many posts and often feel like they don't quite amount to enough to justify a post, particularly one that has to be seven hundred words long. I think perhaps all I really wanted to write about today was that pram. I wanted to record it, share it, remember it. It seemed so poignant as I passed it, yet I'm not sure why, maybe it was the incongruence of it, or the sense of abandonment. It isn't on my normal route, I'm not even sure I could find my way back there. I hope it isn't still there.sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-70364280602271291052013-10-27T21:29:00.002+00:002013-10-27T21:29:32.737+00:00enough hours in the day<div style="margin: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The clocks going back always feel like a much better idea than the clocks going forward. Whenever the clocks change it always seems like a trick of the mind, as though just for two days of the year, on a minuscule scale, we have suddenly learned to time travel. However, as somebody who constantly wishes I had a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bernard's_Watch" target="_blank">Bernard's Watch</a> to conjure up a pause button for the clock, time gained feels much more magical than time lost. There's also less potential for embarrassment this way round. Turning up an hour early for something can be potentially disguised, and is in most cases more forgivable than arriving an hour late. Arriving late for something when the clocks go forward makes it abundantly clear to everyone that you are the person that forgot. Perhaps worse still, I vividly remember one year wanting to get up to do some schoolwork at 8am. Having got up at 7am believing the clocks had gone forward, I later found they had actually gone back. Doing homework at 6am on a Sunday morning has to be the ultimate daylight saving failure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If one does negotiate the transition through time successfully, there is a much more positive feeling when the clocks go back. The air is filled with the sense of a little time gained, people seem better rested, or more productive, and the dark mornings and dark nights seem like a comforting prelude to wintry days spent wrapped up outside or curled up inside. Compare that to the sleep-deprived faces of spring, heavy eyelids and general disorientation that arises from unceremoniously having an hour deducted from your day. It seems a bizarre way to mark the season of new awakenings really, blundering around short of time and short of sleep, but maybe the bright(er) days that follow make it more tolerable.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have enjoyed my extra hour today, although I haven't decided where it occurred. I resisted the urge to sleep in, and somehow it seems I have noticed my extra minutes all the more for that. I got up bright and early and raced through the revision I wanted to do. Getting up early, and working at the weekend without procrastinating are both unheard of for me, but perhaps I was ensuring I didn't waste the gift of time. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe the time we spent walking the dog is where the hour went. We walked to the train station, collected a thick wad of tickets for a variety of trips I will be taking in the coming months. The machine spat them out one by one, dates, times, stations, a pack of orange cards forming the calendar of my life. Coming back we headed by the lake and through the park. Muddy leaves squelched underfoot and we both staggered back each time the puppy threatened to jump up, joyfully imprinting paws onto our legs. The park ranger wasn't so cautious of his clothing, patting her head and asking her age as she bounded around his boots. We saw two squirrels, but she did not, although her beagle instinct caught their scent and she circled round the bases of the trees with nose stuck to the ground.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps our spare hour was spent over lunch, using vouchers provided by my wonderful mum, to have a delicious and cost-free two course meal. We rarely eat out just the two of us, and the chance to do so was very welcome, as was the free food! I like the thought of losing the hour to a wonderfully cooked roast dinner, and some quality time with The Husband catching up and also practicing our Italian. It is funny which bits we each remember, between us I think we could just about make ourselves understood, although neither of us enjoy the grammar. Even if the hour went to being stuck in traffic on the way out I wouldn't mind. The blustery day, blowing the burnt orange leaves from the trees was lovely to observe, adding to my sense that winter was well and truly coming.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Or perhaps the time has been gained here, enjoying the opportunity to write these words, revelling in not an hour, but a whole day well spent.</span></div>
sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-38727150628434280802013-10-01T00:11:00.001+01:002013-10-01T00:15:49.930+01:00gone so fast<div>
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This month started in Sicily, where we spent a week after the dissertation was handed in. Since we returned home it is almost unfathomable how much has happened, now I sit and think of it. Shortly after our return The Husband's grandfather passed away. It was not unexpected, but perhaps sooner than anticipated. It was only a few days later, following an assessment in London, that The Husband was told he was now fully qualified in his profession, following fifteen exams and three years of studying, whilst also working. The celebrations were understandably a little bittersweet, coming as they did so soon after such a loss.</div>
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In September we have also started taking Italian lessons, the second of which was tonight. It has been good to be back in the classroom, and as the classes are held at a local school, I mean that literally as well as figuratively. As The Husband and I met in school, it has been quite funny to sit next to him in "lessons" again, and it's nice to have something planned together each week.</div>
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We have also begun puppy obedience classes, although we haven't been back yet as we didn't feel Millie had learnt enough since the first class to go back. Next Saturday is the day! Millie is keeping us, and the wider family, busy! She is incredibly beautiful but certainly has a strong personality. We are making some progress with puppy training and she has definitely settled right in. We took her to the beach recently and she thoroughly enjoyed the sand, but wasn't so sure of the sea.</div>
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As well as my dissertation viva, I have started back at work full time, and we are slowly getting accustomed to the new pace of things. We have also had a number of birthdays, including The Husband's, to celebrate. I have been trying to make more of an effort to cook more on a daily basis, so I have also been trying to meal plan and shop for specific recipes. So far it is working well and we are having a much greater variety of meals, rather than the same few old faithfuls on rotation.</div>
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In the last week I have seen a NTLive screening of Othello at the local cinema which was fabulous. We are booked to watch the repeat screening of Frankenstein at Halloween too, which I am very excited about! I studied both texts at A-Level, but have never seen either performed, and it made me want to search out my old essays and re-read them all. I also saw an incredible production of All My Sons at The Royal Exchange. This was the other extreme, as it was a play I had never read, never seen and knew very little about. It was a phenomenal performance with a really strong cast, and made for a great night out with my lovely mum. A few weeks ago we also saw Daniel Kitson's new production "Tree" at the Royal Exchange. This had quite a different feel from his solo work, as it was a two part production, but it was no less brilliant than we expected. We have seen a few of Daniel Kitson's pieces over the years, having first seen him at Latitude Festival in 2010, and he never disappoints. My mum and stepdad went to watch on another night, and I was nervous as it was on our recommendation. I needn't have been, they loved it.</div>
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Actually, now I think of it, it isn't surprising that September has gone so fast, being as full as it was. I love this time of year and the gradual transition from new term optimism, to festive excitement, all with the promise of a new year just beyond. It is so easy to pass through the days, months and years and feel that time is rushing by. One of the unexpected joys of having a dog is the fact that it forces me to be outside more than I would, and in doing so I feel much more aware of time passing, weather changing and nature shifting seasons. It punctuates the days, ensuring a chance to notice, and appreciate, life.</div>
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sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-43579693184195032482013-09-28T21:31:00.000+01:002013-09-28T21:54:29.039+01:00your best intentions may not be enough<div>
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<span style="font-family: '.HelveticaNeueUI'; font-size: 14px;">It was never my intention to be away for so long. Time seems too easily to be slipping away these days. Life is busy and to-do lists are ever-expanding. Consequently, writing has seemed an unaffordable luxury. It has been missed though, and so as time is the only real expense I decided to spend a little this evening. The fact that I am laid up in bed with a grotty cold has been encouragement, keeping the brain moving even if the body isn't.</span><br>
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The dissertation is done. I was working up to deadline, as previously predicted. More due to reworking it more times than I anticipated than because I left it all to the last minute. It appears to have been worth it, as I got a distinction, both in the dissertation and in the degree overall. Beyond my immediate family, I haven't told anybody that. It is always a difficult balance between sharing such news and sounding like a show-off. The Husband has also come to the end of his training recently (in an entirely different area) and passed everything with flying colours, so we have both had good news in recent weeks.</div>
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The summer seemed to pass us by in some ways, spent as it was, for me, hunched over the computer editing and re-editing my ideas into something that would pass for academia. The back-to-school sense of September also feels to have dispersed all too quickly, with only my newly-acquired and pleasingly well-stocked pencil case as a reminder. This September, returning to work full-time brought with it some new purchases of office wear, a reorganisation of my stationery supplies, and a hopefulness that was bolstered further by my degree success. I was full of such good intentions.</div>
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A few weeks in and the intensity is hitting a little hard. It is typically a two hour round trip each day and I perhaps underestimated the impact of a daily commute. I am also working (already) towards an exam in January so revision has kicked in immediately. The cold likely hasn't helped. The new outfits and well groomed appearance of my first few days back, which gave me an internal sense of semi-professionalism, have been quickly replaced with a red nose and clothes chosen for comfort. I am hoping that a quiet weekend will see me right, today has included pyjamas and a duvet, and tomorrow I have the day free to get reorganised and back on track. Perhaps October will be this year's September.</div><div style="font-family: '.HelveticaNeueUI'; font-size: 14px;"><br></div><div style="font-family: '.HelveticaNeueUI'; font-size: 14px;"><br></div><div style="font-family: '.HelveticaNeueUI'; font-size: 14px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMIGNZp4Z1rmeAxbUOu8FxuOK-c5Cjgy-2D2L3TdFica0DfxwPQD_p2tV0FurcfFsasdlduUrDAphMSlmIj6J3CiRsfL1N_hUFd7igiylF979KJ-9gPVk4hS3ox64F7qsFeNB8KeZIiZ8/s640/blogger-image--1572114274.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMIGNZp4Z1rmeAxbUOu8FxuOK-c5Cjgy-2D2L3TdFica0DfxwPQD_p2tV0FurcfFsasdlduUrDAphMSlmIj6J3CiRsfL1N_hUFd7igiylF979KJ-9gPVk4hS3ox64F7qsFeNB8KeZIiZ8/s640/blogger-image--1572114274.jpg"></a></div><br></div>
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I have always been a fan of new starts and fresh beginnings. New weeks, new months, new seasons, new years. I like the potential they present. My first revision session for the January exam was recently held at my old university, actually in the building where I attended all of my teaching and lectures. I love my alma mater, I love the city, I love the buildings, I love walking from the station to the campus and seeing memories on every street corner. Feelings rush back as my feet fall on pavements so often walked, and I skip between years, going from 17 to 24 in a matter of minutes. Interestingly I was born on the same road, those memories are not mine, but my Mum, too, has whole stories lived along that street.</div>
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The day of the revision session turned out to be the first day of the academic year. A smiling young man on the train was commuting for the first day of his degree, a quieter chap sat by the window studying the campus map. Those familiar streets were filled with fresh faced students, eagerly making eye contact with everyone, each stranger potentially a new best friend. I saw two boys, really just boys, comparing notes on how little sleep each had had. To me, they both looked far too fresh faced not to have slept for at least twelve hours.</div>
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The welcome posters were in the foyer of my building. It is nine years since I arrived there, a fresh-faced girl, just a girl, who could go to lectures on little sleep. It is even longer since I attended for my interview, nervous but enthusiastic, and even before that were open days, and tours of the university that would eventually become home. I am not where I intended to be. The 18 year old who walked in as a fresher nine years ago never imagined this path. I think, though, she wouldn't be surprised. I was headed here all along.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-64894427160299762542013-07-31T17:32:00.000+01:002013-07-31T18:00:10.680+01:00sweetheart, there's no one else in the world<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N35G3oVclmg" target="_blank">(The Eels - Millicent Don't Blame Yourself)</a></i><br />
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So it feels like this blog is turning in to one long excuse
for not posting. I have a pretty good excuse this time though. A four legged,
big brown eyed, floppy eared, gorgeous excuse. Allow me to introduce Millie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our family dog died when I was eleven, and I don’t think
there has been a day in the intervening 16 years when I haven’t wanted another
dog. Having been in our house for three years, and just celebrated our first
wedding anniversary, The Husband finally agreed we could get a dog. This was in
part to do with the fact that he promised me one for our first anniversary and
did so in front of some close friends, so there was no backing down really!<o:p></o:p></div>
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We went to the local shelter and they had two litters of puppies.
We looked at the puppies, we looked at the rest of the dogs, we went back to
the puppies. There was a litter of Basset Hound cross with Labrador (or a
<a href="http://www.vetstreet.com/dogs/basador" target="_blank">Bassador</a> as they are apparently known). There were two left. Then there were
six Tricolour Beagles which the shelter thought may be crossed with another
breed, but they couldn’t be sure what. Both litters weren’t available for
rehoming until the next day.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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We went home. We read about Beagles. We read about Bassadors.
I spent the whole next day being incredibly productive to try and pass the time
until The Husband got home. We went back the the shelter and there were still
both types of puppy. We looked at the girl Bassador, we had a little cuddle.
Then we had a little cuddle of the girl Beagle. And she didn’t get put down
again until we were home.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Millie has been with us for five days now. Life has changed.
We are valiantly trying to toilet train her with fluctuating levels of success.
She loves playing fetch, but hasn’t quite grasped the idea of bringing the ball
back. Her favourite thing to eat seems to be the plants in the garden. We have
a constant monologue of “Good Millie”, “No Millie”, “Drop Millie”, “Out Millie”,
“Good Millie”, “Here Millie”. I had the inevitable delight of traipsing dog
dirt into the house without realising it, and whilst trying to clean that up
she proceeded to wee on the floor. We are constantly trying to take things out
of her mouth that she shouldn’t be eating and replace them with things she
should.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Goodness knows how we would be with children. We have spent
every night since her arrival Googling various things about dog behaviour and training,
and the conflicting advice is unending. She likes to chew, and nip, at hands
and ankles (and everything else). So far all of the following things have been
advised on various websites:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->If you don’t STOP IT RIGHT NOW she will be a
violent adult only with MUCH BIGGER TEETH<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Squeal like a puppy when she nips<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Growl like a dog when she nips<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Say a high-pitched ouch when she nips<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Make your hand go limp when she nips<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Say No and move your hand away <o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Sat No and walk away for fifteen seconds<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Say No and walk away for ten minutes<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Say No and sit on a high counter where she can’t
reach you<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Spray her with water<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Put lemon juice/bitter apple in her mouth<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Hold her mouth closed<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Whatever you do don't hold her mouth closed<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Roll her on her back, look into her eyes and say
no until she breaks eye contact<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Absolutely do not roll her on her back<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
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We are bewildered and bemused. Goodness
knows what the neighbours think of my squealing puppy impression. We are keen
to be good puppy owners. We are also a force to be reckoned with when it comes
to clean ups and air freshener, whirling round like an ultra-hygienic version
of batman and robin wiping, drying, spraying and scenting. She has already
stolen our hearts, and a few tea towels. The training (both the nipping and the
toileting) will take time. In the meantime there is no greater contentment than
cuddling a sleeping puppy.</div>
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sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-29711563451434131782013-07-22T17:10:00.001+01:002013-07-22T17:10:43.907+01:00what do i know<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JugGmkvhsKQ" target="_blank">(Keane - Bedshaped)</a></i><br />
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I have a few posts I am itching to write, but some online
events yesterday have left me tentative about typing. Without going in to specifics
I watched a developing debate on twitter with an increasingly tight knot in my
stomach.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am very non-confrontational, and worry endlessly at the
thought I may have caused anyone offence, even inadvertently. Although I love a
good debate, it’s more, much as with this blog, the construction of an
argument, and bringing together of words and ideas that I enjoy rather than
being pitted against any opposition.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yesterday a blogger
published a brief post about a restaurant, with some (in my mind) lovely
pictures of the food eaten. The post didn’t really review the food, but was
reasonably positive about it, whilst also including a little social commentary
about the local area, and why the new development where the restaurant was
located meant that, although he enjoyed the other branch of the restaurant in
another location, this venue was not one he would revisit.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I only saw this post because the chef responded on twitter
incredibly angrily, being affronted by the threat on his livelihood, and with
some fairly choice language, soon joined by his followers in denouncing the
blogger. It left me cold. It reminded me of all of the things I hate about the
internet. It has continued to cloud my thoughts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There was a suggestion that bloggers are self-absorbed (or
words to that effect, I am avoiding going reading it all again). I completely
agree. For me blogging is exactly that. That’s why I started it. The chance to
devote a little time, regularly, to myself, to writing about things I enjoy,
and enjoying the process of writing itself. Anyone who writes a blog, assumes, I
think, that someone else might be interested in reading it, that’s why it is
public. So that point I concurred with, but I didn’t necessarily see it as the
insult it was perhaps intended as.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What has been mulling around my brain was the assertion that
the blogger, having not trained as a chef, and not owning a restaurant, had no
right to comment negatively. This perturbs me. As with many professions, I have
trained for many years to be considered competent to perform my role. Again, as
with many professions, my role involves providing a service to the wider public.
Many of those people do not have the same depth of knowledge as I have gained
through my training (although many do, I must quickly point out), and therefore
their perceptions of any experience come from a different context to my own.
Does this make them invalid? Does it mean that I am automatically right?
Absolutely not.</div>
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Criticism (and I am talking generally now, I still can’t see
any criticism of the food in the original blog post) is never easy to hear, but
I don’t think being the “expert” provides exclusive rights to being critical. I
think that sometimes having years of training, having technical, specialist
knowledge of a subject, can make it difficult to see the lay perspective. And
when a profession involves provision of a service to the general public, surely
that lay perspective is of paramount importance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I want to post about my recent trips to the theatre, and
recently visited restaurants. As I said <a href="http://sevenhundredwordblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/a-wondrous-place-part-one.html" target="_blank">here</a> I don’t under any circumstances
consider myself an expert, I just want to reflect on some memorable experiences
I have had. Others might possibly find them interesting, possibly not. However
I want to do so honestly, I don’t want to censor my opinion for fear of a
diatribe, or causing unintended offence. The prospect of a “<a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=flame%20war" target="_blank">flame war</a>” (thank
you <a href="http://goodgobble.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/should-bloggers-write-bad-reviews.html" target="_blank">Good Gobble</a> for the education) leaves me terrified. Ultimately, as many
have surmised, I think the response did more damage than the original post ever
could. I intend to write my posts. Not as an expert, not claiming to be a
critic. Just as a member of the public. I won’t criticise unnecessarily, but I
don’t intend to lie for fear of retribution. That is a worrying trend, if the
only valid opinions belong to the experts. At least, that’s my, inexpert, opinion.<o:p></o:p></div>
sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-19743406076323101432013-07-19T19:38:00.003+01:002013-07-19T19:38:35.243+01:00it's all about the go go go<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDeB5sDealI" target="_blank">(Paloma Faith - Upside Down)</a></i><br />
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It has been a wonderfully busy few weeks. It is becoming
apparent that having lots of lovely things to blog about also means that there
is much less time free to do the blogging. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been
thinking about blogging, in fact I would go so far as to say I have been
missing it. I think in part, my self-imposed minimum word count has been
rankling a little. I longed to check in with a few lines, but couldn’t quite
fit in a full seven hundred words. However, I am here now and very happy about
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So what has been keeping me so busy? Many things, the
majority of which will feature in their own blog posts in the coming days (or,
more realistically, weeks). But let’s do a brief run down, to provide an aide
memoire for me, and to tempt you back for future posts. There was a lovely
sunny weekend, involving baking, family gatherings, best friends, the Wimbledon
final, fish and chips in the garden, late night drinks and trivial pursuit. It
seems a world away now. It one of those lovely weekends that happens rarely,
busy, but somehow in a relaxed, reinvigorating way.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was our first wedding anniversary the following weekend,
and we rented a cottage in the Cotswolds. It was a lovely trip, and felt like a
real holiday. The weather stayed wonderful, and we enjoyed picnics, badminton, and
mini golf. We also had some fabulous meals, and a theatre trip. We did a mad
dash home on the Sunday night, which was our anniversary. We actually had
another night booked in the cottage, but knew we had a lot to do on the Monday,
and decided we would have a midnight flit (well, nine thirty) and we got home
just in time to toast our 365<sup>th</sup> day as Mr and Mrs in our own home. It is hard to believe we have been married a year. In some
ways the wedding feels like years ago, so much has happened since. In other
ways it feels like we spent so long planning the wedding, that its still
difficult to realise it is all over. We couldn’t believe how many other people
remembered, we are very lucky to have so many thoughtful friends and family.</div>
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Since we got back, work has been taking priority. I found
out that I had passed all the exams for my degree, which is brilliant news, but
also shifts the focus onto completing the dissertation as well as I can. The
dissertation is involving some pretty intensive bouts of computer-time, which
is possibly another reason the blogging hit a hiatus. I still maintain I am not
really a hot weather person, but it feels scandalous to sit staring at a screen
all day and all night when the sun is shining, so we have been trying to get
out, even for a quick walk, each evening.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We have lots more lovely plans coming up to break up the
next few weeks, which otherwise will consist almost entirely of hammering out
this dissertation. As soon as it is handed in we have managed to book two weeks
off together, and so I’m hoping a last minute break somewhere sunny will
present itself.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This feels like a bit of a rambly post, with nothing much to
say, but I felt that a little wittering was necessary before I launched
straight into a recipe or a restaurant post. Just to practice my writing again,
more than anything. So many lovely blogs are out there, it is difficult not to
come to write and give up, feeling like an amateur in comparison. There have
been a few half-written and subsequently deleted posts in recent weeks,
succumbing as I do to self-criticism.<o:p></o:p></div>
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However there have been so many things to be grateful for,
so many happy occasions in recent weeks, I want to take time to write about
them. Now I have this space to record things, I should overcome my fear of
failure, and recognise what pleasure there is in documenting daily joys,
however small, and enjoy the creativity blogging brings. So there will
definitely be more posts soon.<o:p></o:p></div>
sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-69033281581047960892013-07-03T10:33:00.003+01:002013-07-03T12:25:14.762+01:00take a little time out<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_a4GSLgWTz0" target="_blank">(Newton Faulkner - Ageing Superhero)</a></i><br>
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Just after we got married last July I started a new job,
which involves, for the first year, completing a master’s degree. The academic
in me has been thrilled at the opportunity for further study and I have enjoyed
writing assignments and attending lectures. I also wonder if perhaps it is what
finally encouraged me to start the blog, realising how much I had relished the writing
process. There has been another, substantial, benefit to this period of study,
which has been the opportunity to work from home for a number of days a week.
Having worked very long hours and done shift work right up until two days
before our wedding, this has felt like an incredibly blessed way to start
married life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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However, the impending return to being out of the house five days a week is causing some consternation. I’m not altogether happy about it, and this in itself is surprising me. I am quite comfortable with the idea of staying at home full-time. It isn’t an option financially, so it is only daydreams, but it is a daydream I find a little disturbing. I know my fifteen year old self would be astonished. I was a fervent feminist as a teenager. I wasn’t any kind of activist, I didn’t rally or campaign. But I was raised in a family of strong women who instilled in me a sense that women are equal and that the world was my oyster. I believed I could do anything I wanted, and that it was my right as much as any man’s to be educated and employed. It wasn’t a novel concept in the 1990’s but it was one I was very much aware of.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have a very vivid memory of a conversation with my mum in which I said that I couldn’t imagine ever going to work and doing a job I didn’t enjoy. Perhaps it was idealistic (I was only about seven, my cynicism was not yet well-developed), I certainly wasn’t taking into account the much more practical reasons why people work. I think now and realise I am lucky to enjoy my job and find it interesting. For a couple of years that absolutely wasn’t the case. I studied for years and then found my chosen career was particularly unsuited to me. During that time I think home, and we had just bought this house, our first together, became a refuge. Family and friends became a harbour, repairing the cracks in my casing before encouraging me back out into the storm. Meanwhile there was gradual hope for a new path, which I only discovered and set out upon with their guidance and support.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Perhaps I feel I owe this home, to stay with it and look after it, like it looked after me. Perhaps I realised (even more than before) that the people around you are more important than any job, and so I want to treasure them with my time. I don’t have children, that is a debate for another day. But I know my mum raised me single-handedly, whilst working every day, and I couldn’t have asked for a happier childhood or a better mum. I don’t doubt given the choice she would have preferred to be at home, and she was strongly supported by my grandparents, but I have such a strong female role model in her, I know the value of money, the rewards of hard work, and the best way to be a parent. So again, I find these thoughts of staying at home unnerving.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I wonder what happened to the fifteen year old who wanted to change the world, to make her a woman who is happiest cleaning the kitchen. I read about <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/06/26/texas-filibuster-wendy-davis_n_3500422.html" target="_blank">Wendy Davis</a> in awe. I admired her immensely, and saw my younger self in her approach. Perhaps once studying is over, the opportunity to work on things full
time will reawaken that desire to blaze ahead in the world, burn my mark on the
pages of history. Perhaps. I enjoy my job, I enjoy my home, I love my family
and friends. It isn’t world changing, or history making, but perhaps my
greatest achievement is happiness.</div>
sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3397046814082019085.post-65707314681095793432013-07-02T21:35:00.000+01:002013-07-02T21:35:27.633+01:00pick and choose<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DzRCbxnZmNw" target="_blank">(Moby - Jam for the Ladies)</a></i></div>
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Weeds are speedy little things aren’t they? As thrilled as I
am with our glamourized garden, the joy is being dampened slightly in recent
days. I am slowly realising that although the plants are blooming, daubing the
ground with colour, uninvited foliage is also sprouting at an alarming rate. I
had somewhat neglected this part of gardening before, I much prefer a world
where things stay as you left them. When we had finished it was perfectly
pretty, and whilst I had accepted that the colour was seasonal, I hadn’t
factored in that it would soon be covered up by weeds unless I fought them off
regularly. I have rather got the bug though, and look forward to venturing out,
trowel in hand, to restore order amongst the florae. It won’t be this evening
though, as the skies are busy helping me out, kindly doing the watering on my
behalf.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Injuries abound. In the last 48 hours I have elbowed a wall, right on the corner (the fact that I am a builder’s granddaughter made me look this up, the proper term is the arris, according to the wonderful world of Wikipedia), I have trapped my finger between two doors, and I have taken a chunk out of my thumb on the corner (arris?) of a door frame. Doors and corners appear to be causing me problems. I am bruised. All of these injuries hurt when I press on them. So I keep pressing on them, so I can say that it hurts, and therefore feel sorry for myself. I nearly caused injury number four a moment ago trying to walk with pins and needles. The Husband told me to hop and I couldn’t work out which way to do it so it didn’t hurt. Co-ordination has never been a strong point. My feet never seem quite able to catch up with my brain, and consequently my arms rebel and do their own thing.</span></div>
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I am acquiring a taste for bananas. They are another of my
dislikes, purely textural, I find the flavour quite enjoyable. I froze some.
This was a second attempt. The first two I recently popped into the freezer
whole. Whole and still in the skin. I didn’t exactly think it through. I
realised as I went to peel one that it had not been an entirely successful
endeavour. I then tried to defrost them. The final product was thrown away.
This time though I peeled and portioned my bananas. I had a few slices last
night, it was like incredibly easy ice cream. Even more of a revelation came
this morning. I have been a fan of cold oatmeal for a few weeks. I mix a normal
portion of oats and milk cold, add fruit and leave in the fridge overnight. It’s
a lovely summer breakfast. The other day I had apple and cinnamon. This morning’s
banana and honey was delicious. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m currently sitting in our spare bedroom. We are waiting
to get a quote for some study furniture. I’m hoping if we can get it done
fairly soon that the spare bedroom will soon look something like a bedroom. At
the moment it resembles a bizarre store room/library. My vantage point in the
middle of the floor reveals a treasure trove of the weird and wonderful. An
electronic drum kit I bought on ebay, and gave up on as soon as I realised The
Husband was better than me. An alarm clock in the shape of R2D2. A plethora of
books, CDs and computer games spilling off every shelf. A sleeping bag. A
printer. A coin sorting jar that automatically calculates the value of the
contents. Monopoly, trivial pursuit and cranium, all in different parts of the
room. Two picnic rugs. I do not plan to store these things in our study, just
that the process of moving the books will force us to sort through the
associated detritus. I am fairly minimalist, The Husband is a hoarder. Although
it may not sound it from that list, we tend to strike a happy balance. By which
I mean I ask him to throw things out and he asks me to not look in the loft.<o:p></o:p></div>
sevenhundredwordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11229331644797719485noreply@blogger.com0