Told you we could change the world!

Do you remember Meltem Avcil?
(See my posts here and here.)

Meltem personified the evil and inhuman practice prevalent in this country of treating vulnerable refugee children like unsolicited junk mail.

Yet Meltem was one of the lucky ones, comparatively speaking.
In spite of the appalling horrors she was forced to endure at the hands of uncaring politicians and bureaucrats, her case was widely publicised.

This week I received an email from PAIH, who had championed Meltem's case.

I am writing to you because you supported the campaign for Meltem Avcil to stay in the UK with her mum after the Home Office tried to deport her IN November 2007. I just want you to know that Meltem Avcil has now got indefinite leave to remain and is living in Newcastle with her mum. Meltem says she is dead grateful for all the help she got from you and from people in Doncaster, the UK and elsewhere. She is living in Newcastle with her mum and they are quite happy there. She is now at school in year 9 and is glad to be back at school although she misses Doncaster.

Thanks again for your help. If you would like to donate money to our campaigns or humanitarian work please go to www.paih.org – thanks!

Now, let me ask you a question.

Do you honestly believe that without the huge amount of public pressure brought to bear on the authorities Meltem would still be here?

You did that!

All of you who signed petitions, sent emails, publicised her plight on your blogs ...

We're privileged to have this power.
A small amount of time, effort and focus from us can actually save lives.

Knowing this, can we possibly justify NOT speaking out and acting when we hear of a case like Meltem's?

For an inspiring example of just how much difference ordinary people - people like you and me - can make, please watch this video.
It may make you cry.
It certainly left me in bits.
But our tears will help no one.

Watch and cry by all means ...
And then work out just what you can do to make a difference.

See here for the full Guardian article with more inspiring examples.

And here are just a few facts and figures:

There are between 283,500 and 450,000 failed asylum seekers in the UK.

At least 26,000 failed asylum seekers are destitute, living on Red Cross food parcels.
23,430 new claims for asylum were lodged in 2007 and 73% were refused.

Last year, 13,595 failed asylum seekers including their dependents were deported.

During 2006, 3,500 adults and 1,300 children were detained in dawn raids.

Around 27,000 people are put in detention centres every year.

There have been at least 12 suicides in detention centres.

The UK takes 3% of the worldwide refugee population and ranks 14th in the EU for the number of asylum applications

No one monitors what happens to people who are returned.

The Pipe Runneth Over

One of the things I missed out on during my absence was reporting back from the latest Pipe & Slippers.

This was the 3rd P&S event I've attended and it occurred to me that I've known at least one person in each of the (highly impressive) lineups.

First up was here, and Marie Phillips (fellow Bookarazzi buddy) was on stage as one of the eclectic and diverse performers.
Then here - blogmates John Ahearn and Barbara Smith (another Bookarazzi buddy) launched their poetry collections.
Most recently, Emma Darwin (also of Bookarazzi fame as well as living a few doors away from yours truly) read and so did Dan Maitland (who's in my writers' group).

The next P&S is scheduled for 7th Sept and is going to be a bit different this time.
The plan is to hold it in a marquee in Brockwell Park and call it Pipefest, or possibly Slipperstock.
The organisers promise it's going to be HUGE!

Once again someone close to home is scheduled to appear.
This time it's her.

Amazonian bullies

Amazon have been abusing their power - big time.

See here for a Bookarazzi article describing their disgusting bullying tactics.
Scroll down to the bottom of the post to see what you can do to stand up to the bullies in the corporate playground.

Bah!

Oooh, lookee here ...

My recent enforced absence from the blogosphere is the longest break I've taken (apart from hols) since I first started blogging.

I didn't even check my own blog during my absence, let alone anyone else's, going online only in brief bursts to check my emails.

I still have lots of catching up to do but have finally taken a peek at my stats.
I found a load of referrals from a site I didn't recognise.
And it seems that while my back was turned, this post was nominated as Post of the Week here, by none other than the fragrant floral one herself, Zinnia Cyclamen.
(Thanks, Zin.)

I haven't quite worked out the link yet (perhaps someone can help me?) but there seems to be a connection to this wonderful-sounding blog-related book, You're Not the Only One, with all profits going to Warchild.

Blimey! You turn your back for a moment and see what happens?
A fortnight in internet terms equals several months or even years in Real Life ...

G hits the (off) road

Remember way back here when G had to pull out of the marathon?

We held the sponsorship for SOS Africa over to the next event which was ...
yesterday at the North Downs 30K -
a grueling 18 miles cross-country run, which he completed with his usual style.
(Though with a limp as the terrain proved a real test for his ankle.)

Anyway, if you have already sponsored him, thank you.
And if you haven't - please go here and remind we why I don't mind getting up early on a Sunday morning to cheer him on!

SOS Africa is a very worthy cause.
Every penny donated will go directly towards helping those who need it most.
Hurry! Not long to go before the page closes.

The Party in Pictures

Dear First Born,

After we left the synagogue, G took you home and you crashed straight into bed.

Meanwhile, a small posse of wonderful friends joined me at the school.
We all worked flat out for 3 hrs, shifting tables and chairs, making salads, chopping fruit and laying out the food and drink.
(I love, LOVE, LOVE my friends ...)

We dashed back home with just enough time to change.
You were still in bed, exhausted and unable to move.

G and I had to dress you lying down.

When we got to the school, G and I made a short attempt to do the hosting meet-and-greet thingy.

Here we are looking like Little and Large.

Then you called me and wanted me near you, so the mother role took over from the hostessy one.



You kept saying how ill you felt.
You ate nothing, but drank several glasses of iced lemonade.

Meanwhile, I'm delighted to say everyone else seemed to be feasting and having fun.

My Fab Dad and Gorgeous Goddaughter

When it came to the speeches I peeled myself away from your side.
The content of my speech was pretty much the same as the open letter I sent to you, though I can't be sure as I spoke off the top of my head and from the bottom of my heart.

We had 5 different groups of friends performing live slots - this party was always going to be different - and then we got to the dancing.
First LG was hoisted up onto a chair, then me and then I looked over at you.
'He can handle it,' I said.
And so you too were lifted up to celebrate your coming of age.



When it came to the really wild dancing I kept checking over at you.



I could see you were a little more animated, talking and laughing with your friends.

2 of your glamorous friends

Then G and I found ourselves in the centre of the whirling masses.
Suddenly the crowd parted and there you were coming towards us with a huge grin on your face.
Someone found LG and for a few precious moments the 4 of us danced together, circling with our arms round each other's shoulders, with frequent changes of direction so you didn't get too dizzy.
It sounds like a shmaltzy Hollywood moment written like this.
But it was Our Moment and it was Real.

I don't have the full set of photos yet, but these are some that the Minxmeister sent (more here).

And now life goes on.
Today LG left for a week's stay on a farm in Dartmoor and I miss him already.

It ain't easy being a parent, but that's not something you would know about yet.

So just enjoy this time now - as an adult in Jewish law, a teenager in English law, but always and for ever my baby.
And I make the law in this house as you well know!

An open letter to my First Born

Dear First Born,

Well, we made it.
You made it.
Talk about taking it to the wire ...
Until literally the very last minute when you climbed the stairs onto the bimah, we didn't know what, if anything, you would be able to do.

Let's rewind a bit now that we have time to sit back and reflect on this amazing journey of yours.

In fact let's go back a year to here.
(I notice at that point you were half an inch shorter than me - you're now 2" taller than I am ...)
At every stage, we all felt that the portion that coincided with your Hebrew birthday was meant to be.
It's called Naso and the Sedra begins by dealing with the sons of Gershon.
Gershon is, of course, your dad's Hebrew name.
And the Haftorah?
Shimshon.
Samson.
Yes, my big, strong, long-haired son. How could we doubt this was meant to be?

Now let's fast forward to a couple of months ago.
When we arrived home carless from Cornwall, that was the point at which we realised you were struggling with your massive haftorah portion.
We told you that it would be fine if you only learned the first and last sentences.
That, along with the maftir and blessings, would be a huge achievement as far as we were concerned.

In typical FB fashion, it was at that point that something must have clicked in your brain and within a fortnight you had learned the whole thing!

So now let's fast forward to here.
LG got sick.
And then here - measles.

We had a few precious days, when LG was better and G and I had our bed back.
I kept looking at you.
You were so well - fit and strong - though we knew it was almost inevitable that the virus was lurking inside you, biding its time.

During the days we drank every positive drop and celebrated your English birthday in style.
There was no point in panicking - it was out of our hands.
I lay in bed each night though, calculating which days would be the worst for you to fall ill and what the consequences would be.
If it happened by x, you should have recovered sufficiently.
If it happened by y, you wouldn't have fallen ill yet.
If it happened by z, it would depend which day the rash came out ...

We needed to take into account, not just your own health, but also the period you would be contagious.
On the other hand, a point would arrive at which it would be too late to cancel ...

Then, exactly a week before the big day, you were prostrated by a crashing headache and dizziness.
More calculations - this time focusing on when the rash would break out.

On Sunday and Monday mornings, you woke up (in our bed - poor G had been relegated back to the bunk bed again) saying you felt better, but then felt ill again in the afternoons.

Monday pm the rash appeared, but not on your face as is the norm, but on your chest and legs.
Though poorly, you weren't nearly as ill as LG had been.
'Triumph!' we shouted. 'The homeopathy worked! The contagious period will be over by Saturday and though we've no doubt you won't be feeling your best, you should be well enough ...'

Poor deluded saps, eh?
On Wednesday, the rash exploded onto your face and spread across your body.
The fever raged.
Your headache was blinding, you were so dizzy you couldn't raise your head from the pillow.
Your eyes were streaming and bloodshot and your lips cracked and dry.
You had pains in your stomach reminiscent of the awful time a few years ago when you were diagnosed with Henoch Schonlein Purpura.

Meanwhile, this was the day after the last day it would have been possible to cancel.
The Health Authority were adamant that we should count the 5 day contagious period from the Monday, which meant that that wouldn't be an issue, but you were so ill ...

You couldn't be left of course, so G and I had to work out a system for the next few days.
He delivered everything in the car to the school where the party would be held and then came home.
I then walked there and worked to produce the food for the 150 guests.
I couldn't have done it without the help of the Amazing Grace at the school.
She was only supposed to show me round and make sure I had access to cookers, fridges, freezers etc, but in the event, she worked alongside me for hours at a time.

Back home, I spent every moment with you, sponging you down and trying to soothe you.

On the Wed and Thurs you could hardly speak, except to croak,
'Why me? Why is this happening to me?'
I told you I couldn't answer that question.
I said that you can plan and plan and plan, but that ultimately we can't control what life may throw at us.
All we can control is the way we respond.
I said that maybe you had been given this ordeal to handle, precisely because you're so special.

We gave you the option of postponing.
But you knew that would mean you wouldn't be able to do the portion you had struggled so hard to learn, as it only comes round once a year.
'It was meant to be that I would have that portion,' you rasped.
'If you believe that, then you must also believe that it's meant to be that you've become ill,' I told you.

On Thursday night, I took you to the toilet.
When you got up, you nearly passed out and G and I helped you back to bed where you fell prostrate.
But something had changed.
Your skin was no longer burning.
Your breathing was more regular and deeper.
I could see that you had just scaled the peak.
But would there be enough time to recover sufficiently for Saturday?

The next day, you were indeed a little better.
You could raise your head and speak a bit more.
Your sense of humour returned and with the easing of the illness, there was a teensy space for your determination to kick in, even though you hadn't eaten and had barely slept for 5 days.

In the evening, Minx and the Feckers arrived which was wonderful for the rest of us but to be honest probably didn't make that much difference to you as you were still in bed with the curtains closed.
'I hope I get a good night's sleep tonight,' you murmured.
'Me too, poppet,' I replied.

It wasn't though, was it?
Your skin reacted in its usual way and you were almost clawing it off with irritation.
Your eyes were so red and sore, you looked like I'd imagine Gollum would after a couple of millennia chain smoking and drinking.

And you were scared.
So scared that you were hallucinating.
I didn't panic - I could see this wasn't fever.
All I could do was use every trick I knew to try to calm you and help you relax.
In the event, I reckon we managed a maximum of a couple of hours twitchy sleep.

In the morning, G and I dressed you.
Your hair was matted and I pulled it back into a pony tail.
Even with your poor sore eyes, you looked stunning to me.

Your legs were buckling with exhaustion, weakness and dizziness.
We told you that whatever you managed to do would be an incredible triumph and not to feel you had to do more than you could physically handle.

And what did you do?
Every single part, that's what.
You didn't hold the Sefer Torah, which would have been far too heavy.
And you sat with the Rev's arm round you, rather than standing.
And your voice was so quiet.
But the synagogue was so silent I swear I could have heard your heartbeat.

Remember when I said earlier that we can't control what life may throw at us, only the way we respond?
Well, you responded with such strength of character, determination and maturity that every one of the 180+ people who watched you was overwhelmed.

Remember too when I said that maybe this had happened because you're special?
I really do think that.
Your achievement in learning and reciting your portion would have been amazing enough.
For you to do it in spite of those odds and in the face of such adversity takes you and your achievement onto a whole other level.

I'm not going to talk here about the party in the evening.
It deserves another whole letter on its own and I'll share it with everyone later with photos.

Meanwhile you're still unwell and lying on the settee complaining that I'm not with you.
I'll finish now and come and join you to watch some junk daytime tv.
You've certainly earned it!

Love and kisses from your very proud Mamma.

A teensy taster

Details to follow ...

Oh

It is measles.
It didn't follow the usual pattern and we couldn't see the tell-tale signs so had convinced ourselves LG had a feverish cold.
Then yesterday, the 5th day of him being ill, the rash erupted.

So here's the deal.
We can call it Numerology 2.

90% of non-immune people who come into contact with measles will contract it themselves.
The most contagious times are 4 days before the rash appears and 4 days after.
The incubation period is 10-14 days.
FB's barmitzvah is in 13 days.

In other words, the timing couldn't possibly be worse.

G has swapped beds with LG who's in with me.
We've managed to get hold of the homeopathic preventative remedy and are dosing up FB.
And we're all washing hands in a way that even Lady Macbeth would consider excessive.

All of which could well be a case of shutting stable doors long after the horse has buggered off.
There's nothing more we can do. Except wait.

I anticipate a barrage of criticism along the lines of us being irresponsible parents for not having had our children vaccinated.
But in spite of everything I still think that was the right decision.
(G's not so sure.)

In the meantime, you won't be seeing much of me on the blog for a while.
I have a sick child to care for.

She's back!

Have you noticed that the blogosphere has been a darker, dingier place these last few weeks?

Less colour, less life, less light ...

Just as I'd got to the point when I could no longer hold back the blog squatters, who were all set for a rave in her abandoned comments box ...

She's back!
And she's brighter and more beautiful than ever!

Welcome back, Minxy!

I need cloning

Many many (very many) years ago, a friend did some kind of aura analysis on me.
(No, I don't understand either.)

The only bit I remember was when he advised me, 'One Debi, not many'.
He was responding to the insight that I was too adaptable to whoever I happened to be with at the time and needed to work on developing a strong inner core.

As the years passed I managed to achieve that sense of self and learned how to maintain an ability to adapt while holding on to a fundamental Debiness.

The problem now is that one Debi is not enough.
I need cloning.
Let's see.
I need one Debi to stay home and administer cuddles, comfort and cold compresses to LG's fevered brow.
Then I need another to go to dad.
(I usually visit him at least twice a week, but by a bit of bad timing I haven't been for a week and Big Bro hasn't been able to make it either.)
A 3rd is required to finish the MS appraisal I'm working on.
A 4th can focus on the barmitzvah.
And while we're at it, I might as well have another to start work on Book 6.

Now, it's clear we also need one who can co-ordinate all the others while lying on the settee eating chocolate.
As the prototype, I think it only apt that I should volunteer for this role.

My baby's unwell

Little Guy is currently lying on my bed.
Measles is sweeping round the school felling all the kids who haven't had their MMR jab, though I don't know if that's what the problem is.
(Smell the fear!)

Barmitzvah preparations ... editing ... the progress of my writing career ...
It's at times like this that you know what the really important things in life are ...
ie the health of those you love.

Litbloggers of the world unite!

This is an excellent post about whether litbloggers have anything useful to say.

Thanks to Frank at Books Inq for passing it on.

Numerology

I know, I know.
Just because it's understandable that I should be totally obsessed about First Born's forthcoming barmitzvah, doesn't mean I should inflict it on all of you here.

But hey, it's my bloggy and I'll try if I want to ...

Let's break it down into numbers:

• 21 - number of barmitzvah-related Word docs on my laptop
  
• 7 - number of barmitzvah-related spreadsheets on my laptop
• 174 - number of people who have responded to invitation
• 17 - number of people who haven't responded but I suspect are coming
• 24 - number of people who haven't responded but I suspect are not coming
• 149 - number of people who have said they're coming to the synagogue service
• 157 - number of people who have said they're coming to the party
• 7 - number of people who have said they'd like to have a live music slot at the party
• 5 - number of weeks since we said FB didn't have to do the whole huge portion if he couldn't handle it - at which point everything clicked into place and he's going to do the lot after all.
  
• 3 - number of hours between the service and the party in which to get to the venue, set up and decorate the space, lay out the tables, set up the sound system, arrange the food etc, make the salads, change outfits ...
• 3 - number of weeks left before the big day!
• beyond number - number of wonderful friends who are supporting us. Couldn't do it without you, guys!
  

The poetry post

Poems, eh?
Truth is, I just can't create them.

I'm too verbose and lack the discipline to restrict my words.
Why write a few lines about something when you can write a whole book?
Or even a series?

But I knows what I likes and I likes what I know.
I have some wonderful poetry books on my shelf.
*waves at Barbara Smith and John Ahearn*

Anyway, First Born had to write a sonnet for his homework yesterday.
I don't know about you, but I reckon this is pretty impressive for a (not quite) 13 year old.

You were like a summer's day,

Warm and relaxing like the air;

So colourful red, blue and yellow but never gray.

Your skin was like velvet, smooth and fair.

When I was in trouble I knew to reach

For you would grab and hold on to me

Your hair was like the golden sand on the beach.

You were as unpredictable as the sea

And as mysterious as a cold misty night.

Like a secret spy under cover

You were stunning but hiding from the light;

I was so happy to be your lover.

I want to tell you before the door closes,

Your life was a shower of sweet red roses.

RIP

The long and the short of it

Elizabeth Baines (fellow member of Bookarazzi) aka Fiction Bitch is a wonderful writer and one of those people I've been happy to have moved from my virtual life into my real one.

But being clever and talented doesn't always mean you get the recognition you deserve.

So I'm absolutely delighted to announce that Elizabeth's beautifully crafted book of short stories, Balancing on the Edge of the World, has been long listed for the Frank O'Connor Short Story Award!

Way to go, Elizabeth. It couldn't happen to a nicer person.
I'm doing the reflected glory and basking thing here ...

A Virtual Prayer

Dear Lord of the Cyberverse,

I guess you must be bored or something.
That's the only reason I can think of to explain why you've seen fit to start that irritating nonsense with my emails.
Again.

Yes, I have contacted you before about this.
And no I'm not going to bother searching back to find the links.

I'm sure you must have better things to do than to hold onto my emails and play with them.
Don't you know how much trouble this can cause?
I send them off and then wait for replies that never come.

Then I'm contacted by people who say they guess I didn't receive their mail and I have to say that I did and I replied ages ago.
Then, just for an extra giggle, you sometimes (but not always - huh, you're so crafty) bounce them back to me a week or so later.

I really really don't have time for this.
I have a barmitzvah to stress over.

Take pity on me please.

Virtual love,

Debi x

And if anyone reading this has wondered why I haven't responded to them, I almost definitely have!
Honest!
Just ask the Lord ...

Literally literary alliteration

I do love a good lit launch.

Throw in some blogmates and fellow Bookarazzi buddies (a Disgruntled Commuter, Emma Darwin and Sarah Salway and maybe some others) and a book by Sally Hinchcliffe and my cup runneth over.

This is where I'm going later today.

Truth or Dare

I've never bought a property, so my personal experience of estate agents is limited to their reputation for twisting the truth.

So I was surprised yesterday to see an ad in a window describing a house as 'smells like an ashtray'.

Did they have an attack of conscience?
Had they swallowed some sort of truth serum?

Imagine if such a thing existed ...
It could be force fed to lying politicians, cheating partners, manipulative bosses, flattering friends ...
Though I wonder sometimes if it's better not to know ...

Lemon Aid

Mr Lemon (spouse of Meloney and not in the slightest bit anorak-y) came round recently bearing a pc which he's kindly set up for FB to do his homework on.

Mr L is a great fan of Linux open source software - free, efficient and safe as well as a challenge to the Microsoft monopoly - so I'm spreading the karma a bit further with a mention here.

Anyway, as we live in a very small and very cluttered space, the arrival of the new equipment has necessitated a clear out.

We now have 2 dead Playstations and some other odd bits of defunct techy toy hardware to dispose of.
I can't bear to just chuck them in the bin/landfill.
Anyone know of an eco-friendly way to dispose of them?

Piping up again

Regular visitors to this blog will probably recall me gushing on previous occasions about Pipe & Slippers, south London's premier literary and music event.
(See here for the post re last November and here's the latest re the one in February.)

The next event is nearly here and is scheduled for 1st June.

P&S is fast approaching cult status.
Come along so you can say you were there in the early days ...

Check the website for details.

Have you been ripped off?

OK - this is the scenario.

A friend tells you they've seen a chunk of your blog reproduced in a national paper.

Do you:

a) Jump up and down in glee at the unexpected publicity
b) Wonder why they didn't have the decency to at least inform you
c) Rant because they should have asked for your permission before using your words
d) Immediately bung an invoice in the post demanding payment?

I have a confession to make here.
When I found out last year that the Guardian had quoted my blog post re Hay, I was really pleased.
It never occurred to me that the way this happened was out of order.

Well, never let it be said that I don't have the courage to admit when I'm in the wrong.

This articulate post by Zoe Margolis on Comment is Free is what persuaded me.

A Day Like No Other

Doncha just love it when life presents you with new and different experiences?
This was me yesterday ...

a.m.
We arrive at the synagogue soon after 8.00.
Here's how 2 people, working in unison like a well-oiled machine, cook 10 filleted and skinned salmon:
Wash each fillet. Season both sides with salt, black pepper, lemon pepper, onion powder, dried onions and lemon juice. Smear on a little mayonnaise. Sprinkle with fresh thyme. Place fillet on silicone paper and sandwich matching seasoned fillet on top. Wrap loosely in heavy duty tin foil parcel allowing enough space for air to circulate. Cook in relays - half hour in medium oven.

p.m.
We go to the park for some chill out time.

A family near us groan as their remote control plane gets stuck in a tree.
'I'll get it!' says G, leaping to the rescue.
He throws our football at the plane with unerring aim.
Once. Twice. On the 3rd attempt the ball hits the plane ...
... And lodges snugly in the branches cuddled up next to it.

'It's OK,' G yells, grabbing our cricket bat.
But at 6'4" and with LG on his shoulders, even the combined height of my partner and son are insufficient to reach.

'No problem,' G says, undeterred.
He'll use the cricket bat as a javelin and knock both the trapped ball and plane down.
Once. Twice. On the 3rd attempt the bat shoots into the branches with deadly accuracy...
... And snuggles up cheek by jowl next to its comrades.

By this time we've attracted quite a sizable crowd of gawpers.
And I'm laughing so hard my poor pelvic floor muscles are begging for mercy as G and the other guy attempt to rock the tree.



It takes a passing light, lithe and fearless teenager to clamber up the tree and spare my man from further embarrassment (and me too according to my bladder).

Evening
Back to the synagogue to transfer the salmon from fridge to freezer.
Another task crossed off my list(s).

Bad dream

In my dream it's Sunday morning.
I wake up ...
Today's the day I've organised to cook and freeze 70lbs of salmon at the synagogue with the help of a friendly friend.

Only - we've forgotten to pick up the salmon the evening before.

I wake up, shrieking.
'Argh! We've forgotten to pick up the fish ...!'

Only it's not Sunday morning - it's Friday.
And we haven't forgotten.
Yet.

First Born's barmitzvah - 4 wks and counting ...

UPDATE: No, it's 5 weeks and counting. Doh! Scrambled brain ....

The Book Cook

Having recently finished The Gene Pool, I've just begun to cook a new character and plot.

Karen Townsend would be known as Kaz by her friends.
If she had any.
A woman with a tragic past gradually revealed in a series of flashbacks, Karen finds it difficult to engage with other people.
Her vivid Virtual Life is a lot more interesting.
But when a sinister stalker makes the terrifying leap from cyberspace into Real Life Karen has to decide how hard she's prepared to fight to stay alive.

I haven't started writing Karen's story yet, but she's moved in and I'm getting to know her.

Watch this space ...

Debi and her Dad. Part 14

Dad's lost 3 sticks.
Actually, that's not strictly accurate.
He's lost 3 sticks several times, but until recently either Big Bro or myself was able to track them down.

I think he takes one out with him, then when he's at the tills in the supermarket he leans the stick against the counter and walks off without it.
(You'd think someone would notice, wouldn't you ...?)
Sub-consciously he probably doesn't accept he really needs it.
OTOH, he knows he's frail and is really scared of falling again.

Anyway, in spite of labeling the last one with his address, that one too has now disappeared without trace.

I had a stick myself, dating back to when I had a series of operations on my knee 25 yrs ago, so I took that one round to him yesterday.
It felt very strange carrying it across London.
It didn't fit into my bag, so I alternated holding it in front of me like a banner with hanging it over my shoulder.
Even so, I found it hard not to limp.

I've taped another 'Please return to ...' label on it with his address and my mobile no and left it with him.

I kept it for 25 yrs.
What do you reckon is the likelihood of him hanging onto it for 25 days?

We're wheely lucky

Where would we be without friends?
Certainly not any place I'd like to be ...

I was really sad recently when good buddy N (who I've known for nearly 25 yrs through all our ups and downs) returned to Jamaica to live.
I'm so delighted for her, but it goes without saying that I miss her.
She's one of those wonderful people who's always there for you and she has a knack of sorting things out just at the point you thought they couldn't possibly be sorted.

When we came back from Cornwall last week, there was a message on the answer machine from her.
'Hi,' came her familiar tones. 'Only me. Just phoning to see how you are. I'll call again soon.'

And a couple of days later she did.
I told her the sorry tale of Helga's demise.
'We're selling our old Mondeo,' she said. 'It's outside N&D's place in Addington. P reg, MOT to Oct, tax to end of August. £150.'

So this morning we set off on 2 long bus rides.
And came back in our new car!!!

Follow the Leader

I sometimes think I give more bloggy attention to First Born than to Little Guy.

So ...

... LG has been involved with a programme at school called Young Sport Leaders.
Following some intensive training, they have been working with the other children in the playground, organising activities like circus skills, speed stacking, football training etc.

This week's school newsletter included this:

'Six of these children demonstrated 'exceptional leadership skills' during their training and will soon be taken to Grangewaters Outdoor Education Centre to further develop their abilities.'

And LG was one of them.
(I have no idea where he learned to be so bossy!)

No fears for the future of film

Remember I told you about the film First Born and his friends made with Cineclub?

Well, they've done it again.

Yesterday, together with films by 10 other school Cineclubs, their latest production was screened at the National Film Theatre on the South Bank.

Their first film, Retribution at School, was a dark depiction of bullying, violence and death.

This time they decided to go more upbeat with a 'mockumentary' of the making of their previous film.
The Making of Retribution is the result.
(If you haven't already done so, I suggest watching the original film first.)

Having edited over 2 hrs of footage into a 5 min film, I think they've come up with a production Ricky Gervais would wholeheartedly approve of.

The overall standard of all 11 films was very high indeed.
The graduates, all aged between 11 & 15, are now qualified to teach film-making skills to others.

The future of the British film industry is bright!

DIY has never been easier

See this post from Danuta Kean re self-publishing.
It may be from her archives but it's still relevant.

Take heart - it may be harder than ever to get that elusive deal, but it's also true that there have never been so many other ways of getting your words out there.

Just watch out for pirates ...

I promised you visuals

There we were.
And here they are:

The go-karts and the daisies

The boys climbing the walls

The crowded beach

The chilled out twosome

Alas poor Helga. Gone but not forgotten

Going on anon

Anonymity's a weird 'un, isn't it?

Seems to me there are 3 types: the good, the bad and the irritating.

The Good.
There are some very good reasons why some people want/need to preserve their anonymity.
Girl With a One Track Mind, for example, who originally set up her blog with the sole intention of writing frankly - and anonymously - about sex.
When she was outed there were huge and hideous implications for every other area of her life as well as that of her family and friends.
Or Zinnia Cyclamen, who writes with such wit, wisdom and warmth re being a humanist funeral celebrant.
Her beautifully written posts give a unique insight into how the grieving process affects different people, but it's obvious she cannot risk any of those involved being identified.
Or the lovely person who donated anonymously to G's fundraising for SOS Africa.
If you're reading this, thank you!

The Bad.
You all know them.
They lurk in the blogosphere seemingly for the sole purpose of spreading poison.
They hide behind a cloak of anonymity with pseudonyms and avatars.
Never mind that some people who have to comment anonymously because they don't have a blog of their own, but still take the trouble to identify themselves (*waves at the chicken*) this lot hide in the shadows and spit vitriol in a way that presumably they would never dare to do if they could be identified.

The Irritating.
Sorry - but this has to include those people who have sent back their reply slips saying they will be coming to FB's barmitzvah but haven't completed the 'name' bit - so I don't know if I need to cater for 2 people or a family of 6! Bah ...

Don't veto the vote

Dictionary definition of democracy:
government by the people or their elected representatives;
control of any organisation by its members; a political or social unit governed ultimately by all its members;
the practice or spirit of social equality;
a social condition of classlessness and equality;
the common people esp as a political force.

The inescapable conclusion (for me anyway) is that putting a mark on a piece of paper every few years is a piss poor sorry and narrow interpretation of 'democracy'.

I've long been of the opinion that if voting changed anything, it would be made illegal.
But there are times when I think it's vital to exercise this minimal right to be heard.
The local and London elections on 1st May (oh the irony ...) are a case in point.

The British National Party are contesting seats in 23 councils.
If they achieve 5% of the vote, they will be awarded their first seat in the London Assembly.

Searchlight have launched a campaign, Hope Not Hate, advising people to vote for any of the other parties in order to minimise the fascist share of the vote.
Operation Black Vote are urging the same as are the Jewish community with their campaign Your Voice or Theirs.

Just in case you need any persuasion re what the BNP stand for, here's a selection of quotes.

Nick Griffin. BNP leader:

• 'Yes, Adolf went a bit too far. His legacy is the biggest problem that the British nationalist movement has to deal with. It just creates a bad image.'
  
• 'At 13, I read Mein Kampf, making notes in the margins ... The chapter I enjoyed most was the one on propaganda and organisation, there are some really useful ideas there.'
• 'I am well aware that the orthodox opinion is that 6 million Jews were gassed and cremated or turned into lampshades. Orthodox opinion also once held that the Earth is flat ... I have reached the conclusion that the 'extermination' tale is a mixture of Allied wartime propaganda, extremely profitable lie and latter witch-hysteria ... It's well known that the chimneys from the gas chambers at Aushwitz are fake, built after the war ended.'

Richard Barnbrook, BNP candidate for mayor:

• 'Immigration has caused this (his diagnosis with TB). I am angry that I have picked up this junk. This disease should not have come into this country.'
  

Nick Erickson, BNP London Regional Organiser (believed to be associated with Sir John Bull blog - no link for, obvious reasons - from which the following quote comes):

• 'I've never really understood why so many men have allowed themselves to be brainwashed by the feminazi myth machine into believing that rape is such a serious crime. Rape is simply sex, so rape cannot be such a terrible physical ordeal. To suggest that rape ... is a serious crime is like suggesting force feeding a woman chocolate cake is a heinous offence.'

If you want to vote but can't decide who for, this website might help you make up your mind.
(Thanks to Mr Bloggy for the email heads up.)

And so farewell, faithful friend

Yes, we had a wonderful break.
Thanks for asking.

The spring sun shone.
The air was sweet, the beach golden ...
chilly evenings warmed by driftwood fires.
We were staying in an ancient stone cottage in an unspoiled setting.
First Born and Little Guy had their own rooms for the first time EVER in their lives.

We sped rickety go-karts down daisy-smothered slopes and explored nooks and crannies, secret spaces, woods, winding paths and rugged coasts.

And we had visits from the Magical Minx.

But then on the way home, just outside Okehampton on the A30 about 1/3 of the way into our journey and still 2oo miles from home, Helga - our faithful, trusty and much-loved D-reg Volvo Estate who had carried us on so many adventures together - sighed ... and died.

The AA man (we worship at your heroic feet, oh saintly smiley knight in shiny shades) arrived within half an hour.
'Cam belt,' he said. '£50 job. 90% of the time the car will be fine once the belt's changed.'
'And the other 10%?'
'It will have buggered your engine ...'

Hero tows us to garage.
'I'd say 95% likely to be fine,' said the cheery mechanic.

You've guessed, haven't you?
The odds seemed good, but Helga was not destined to leave Dartmoor, scene of so many sweet and happy romps over the last few years.

We ran through the options, none of them good.
A call to our mechanic in London confirmed the worst.
'She's scrap,' he said.
Which piece of news resulted in a payment to the garage of £96.35.

We unloaded Helga, bid her a fond farewell, and stuffed our luggage into a cab, balancing the surfboards on our heads.
Cab to Exeter = £40.
More unloading - this time into a hire car = £136.
(Though FB & LG were very excited to be traveling in such a posh car with a working radio etc.)

9 hours after we set out, we arrived home - tired, hungry, car-less and in debt.

Bummer.
Big smelly stinky bummer.
(Pix to follow - I have other fish to fry right now.)

Lucky Us

Following the confirmation that G wouldn't be able to run the marathon this year, we were dreading being in London on the day.
So how lucky are we?
A dear friend has offered us use of their holiday cottage and we're going away for a few days.

Away from the marathon mania, pollution, stress, phones, emails ...

A time to concentrate on simple pleasures - wood fires, sea air, long walks ...

... and barmitzvah cramming.
(8 weeks and counting ...)

Take care and see you soon.

PS Don't forget - G's sponsorship for SOS Africa had been carried over to the North Downs 30k in June.
Thanks for your support.

Extreme Mutton Moment

I have my own style and mostly don't care too much about what other people make of it.
It doesn't worry me if I see someone else wearing the same thing.

So there I was yesterday, making an extremely rare foray down Oxford Street.

And walking towards me among the heaving crowds, I spotted a little girl aged about 5 ...
... wearing the same top as me.

Debi and her Dad. Part 13

Dear Mr Alper,

Unfortunately we have had to cancel your follow up appointment.

We will contact you shortly with a new appointment date.

Grrr. Gimme strength ....

Debi and her Dad. Part 12

Dad's got new gnashers!

I can't begin to tell you how much of a saga this has been ...

But as a taster: I finally managed to cancel the 3 follow-up appointments that I was told were not necessary but were arranged for him anyway.
2 of them were at the same time on the same date - but at different hospitals.
(And - to keep to the theme of '3s' - I had to contact a 3rd hospital to arrange the cancellation after 3 days of abortive phone calls had got me precisely nowhere...)

Still, as the dentist said, Dad's got his smile back now.

Mystery Women - what a site!

Mystery Women have a fab new re-jigged site.

The aim of the group is to raise the awareness and profile of female crime writers and provide a forum for the discussion of crime fiction by enthusiastic crime fiction addicts.

It also furnishes a lively friendly atmosphere in which authors and readers can meet and exchange ideas. If you are interested in Crime Fiction then Mystery Women has lots of interesting information for you on events, reviews and interviews.

And I'm not just saying the site's fab because it includes this lovely review of Trading Tatiana ...

Six Little Words

Could you sum yourself up in 6 words?

The title of Not Quite What I Was Planning is hard to match.
The book evolved from an initiative by online mag, Smith, who asked readers for submissions and received over 500 a day, some funny and some sad.

Howzabout these:

Everyone who loved me is dead.
Birth, childhood, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence.
Cursed with cancer, blessed with friends.
I still make coffee for two.
Business school? Bah! Pop music? Hurrah.

And here are mine:

Loves chocolate but can't handle alcohol.
Grumpy in morning but gets better.
Likes to dance and writes books.
Eats, drinks, smokes, rants, organises, scribbles.

And yours?

Happy Springmas

Ah, April ...

Tree branches bending under the heavy weight of blossom.

Tree branches bending under the heavy weight of snow.

Simultaneously ...

We can change the world

The pressure on China urging for justice in Tibet is beginning to pay off.

You did that!
And you and you and you - and all the other 1.5 million people who signed the petition and joined the demonstrations around the world.

This is what Avaaz have to say about you:
Together, we've built an unprecedented wave of global pressure. The Avaaz petition is one of the biggest and fastest-growing global online petitions on any topic in history; since it launched on March 18, it has been signed by 100,000 people per day--an average of more than 4,000 per hour, day and night.

It seems that the Chinese leaders are beginning to waver, so it's vital to keep the pressure on and to urge our own government to do likewise.

You can send a message to your own heads of state here.

On Sunday, the Olympic torch will be passing through London.

Finally, some more words from Avaaz to help you sleep at night:
We're privileged to be alive at a time when people anywhere can reach out and support people everywhere--instantly.
If we have the power to make things better, we have a responsibility to act.

A change to the running order

We knew it was increasingly unlikely that G would be fit to run the marathon this year.

He ran on the belt at the gym earlier this week and again today and after a few miles his ankle protested.

Though there has been improvement, his osteopath has confirmed out feeling that it would be crazy to run 26 miles on 13th April.

But all is not lost!
He's applied to run in the North Downs 30k in June and we're holding sponsorship for SOS Africa over 'til then.

Click here if you'd like to donate.

Huge thanks to those people who have continued to sponsor him even though they knew he was unlikely to run. You make it all worthwhile ...

Things you don't expect to hear ...

I love my writers' group and all the clever, funny, wise, warm and talented people I've met through it.

So there we were today at the coffee caucus.
I was talking about First Born's struggle to learn his barmitzvah portion in Hebrew.

'I once had to learn an entire opera in Hungarian,' said Rupert.
'I found the best way was to learn it backwards ...'

When death is not the end ...

It may be 5 months since Dina Rabinovitch died, but her blog continues to attract visitors - at this point there are 106 comments on her last post.

Dina set herself a target - to raise £100, 000 for the CTRT appeal at Mount Vernon Hospital and she donated all the proceeds from her book, Take Off Your Party Dress, to the appeal.

The amount raised currently stands at £109,998.59 and people are still donating.

It just goes to show ...
Some people have a life force so powerful ... so irresistible ... that even death can't stop it in its tracks.

Hey - who turned the lights out?

I assumed any attempt to persuade the ladz to participate in Earth Hour would be met with howls of protest and would be doomed to failure.

Oh me of little faith ...

True, First Born did check to see if he'd miss anything good on tv.
Fortunately (and entirely predictably) there was nothing but crap on.

At 7.55, crafty G put the kettle on and made a cup of tea.
Then we unplugged our electrical appliances, lit an array of candles and switched off all the lights.

We started by playing a game suggested by techno-boy himself, FB.
You tell a story by taking turns, contributing just 3 words each.
It was astonishing just how quickly every storyline dived into the depths of filth and obscenity ... (*sigh*)

Then 2 of us took turns to tell the story, while a 3rd flitted among the flickering shadows acting it out and the 4th provided sound effects.

After that, it was a few rounds of Who Am I? (mostly sports people I've never heard of) and the hour was up before we knew it.

Oh - and most importantly, we talked about why we were doing it, Little Guy expressing his disappointment at the number of lights he could see burning in the neighbouring houses.

7 continents. 6.6 billion people. 1 hour.

If you care about what's happening to the environment, would you be prepared to give one hour of your life if you thought it would make a difference?

You won't have to go anywhere.
No marches or demos to get to.
No distributing of leaflets or flyposting will be involved.
And it won't cost you a single penny - quite the reverse.

All you have to do is switch off all your appliances for one hour tomorrow (Saturday 29th March) at 8pm.

Is that too much to ask?

To see who will be joining with you in this initiative, check the Earth Hour blog here and the website here.

Thanks for the reminder to she who always backs up her words with action - the inimitable Sharon J.

Are you one in a million yet?

If you are, you'll know that Avaaz have reached their target to collect a million signatures to protest against the situation in Tibet.
Proof positive of the power of the internet and of YOU!

If you haven't signed yet, what are you waiting for?

Here is an excerpt from the latest email:

Dear friends,

We reached our target! In just 7 days over 1 million of us have signed the petition calling for human rights and dialogue in Tibet--the fastest growing internet petition in history. As the crisis continues, it's time to deliver our petition and make sure Chinese President Hu Jintao hears our voices.

An International Day of Action has been declared for Monday, March 31st. On Monday, thousands of people in cities across the world will march to Chinese embassies and consulates, and stack hundreds of boxes containing our petition outside them. 1 million signatures makes a mountain of boxes--it will send a powerful global message.

We have just 4 days left until the petition delivery. Could we get to 2 million signatures in 4 days? We can do it--if every one of us recruits at least one more friend to sign the petition.

Running (no) commentary

Some of you may have been wondering why I haven't done any updates re G's marathon training.

The truth is, I'm afraid all is not well.

G's been struggling for some weeks with a foot/ankle injury.
He's seen an osteopath, been doing ice treatments several times a day, massaging with glucosamine ointment, tailoring his regime so that he maintains overall fitness through mega gym sessions while not putting undue stress on his ankle ...

In these last few weeks, he should have been winding down his running.
Instead he's been unable to run at all.

On Tuesday, he ran on the gym belt for the first time for ages ...
... And his ankle became instantly painful and swollen.

He hasn't quite given up hope that he'll be able to compete.
The problem is that if he pulls out now, he would still get a guaranteed place next year, whereas if he took part but failed to finish (or ran a very slow time) that wouldn't be the case.

But the real problem is this: many people have already been kind enough to sponsor him.
My hope is that they will all realise they have donated to a really good cause whether G runs or not.
In fact my real real hope is that people will continue to sponsor him, even though there's a strong possibility he won't compete.

Tell me I'm not wrong to have this faith in human nature by going here and donating to SOS Africa.
Don't forget - 'It is our guarantee that every penny you raise or donate will go straight towards paying for the education and care of the children who need it most." (Matt Crowcombe, UK President, SOS Africa)

Brave new world?

I switched on the tv for a quick glimpse of the news headlines.

First up - concerns re a new website called Miss Bimbo (I kid you not).
In exchange for Bimbo dollars you can clothe and feed your very own Bimbo and even pay for cosmetic surgery.
Apparently, girls as young as 9 have been accessing the site which I'm not going to link to for obvious reasons.

Next up - the NUT is discussing whether to ban the army from schools amid fears that the MOD is presenting a distorted and propagandist view of the realities of life in the armed forces.

What kind of brave new world are we creating for our children?
I despair ...

Just desserts

Planning to cater for a barmitzvah party for 120 people?
(11 weeks and counting ...)

You'll need lists, lateral thinking, lists, teamwork, lists, forward planning, lists, a clear head and some lists.

Here's a guide to how to deal with the desserts.

• Buy ingredients and drive to dad
• Defrost dad's freezer
• Inform meteorological office you've located disappearing polar ice cap
• Allocate tasks
• Crush 10lb digestive biscuits
• Mix with 5lb seedless raisins
  
• Add 10 tins condensed milk
• Melt 5lb butter and 5lb plain chocolate in a bowl over a pan of simmering water
• Add melted butter and chocolate to biscuit mixture and mix thoroughly
  
• Spoon into 15 greased tins and flatten
• Freeze

Right. That's the pudding done ...

Thud ... ouch ... thud ... ouch

That's the sound of my head banging against a brick wall.

You see, I'm starting to think I'm ill-equipped to play this game.

I went to a seminar at the Society of Authors yesterday on how to get the best out of your publisher.
It was full of useful tips and contacts, but it all boils down to one thing -
- if you're not prepared to pimp ... oops, sorry, I mean self-promote ... you don't stand a chance.

Now, herein lie my problems:

• the skills involved in writing and those related to self-promotion are very different and may in some cases (*self-conscious cough*) be mutually exclusive
• you will have to do a huge amount of work in the face of publicists who will tell you to leave it all up to them - which you must on no account do while bearing in mind that's it's crucial not to alienate them
• you have to be self-confident without being obnoxious and assertive without being aggressive
• which means you will need to have the balls of a rottweiller, the hide of a rhino and the soft hand of a seductress
• if successful, you will probably have morphed into someone you won't like very much

Thud ... ouch ... thud ... ouch

Become one of the million

I've just received this email from Avaaz re Tibet.
Please sign the petition and link on your own blogs to spread the word.

After decades of repression under Chinese rule, the Tibetan people's frustrations have burst onto the streets in protests and riots. With the spotlight of the upcoming Olympic Games now on China, Tibetans are crying out to the world for change.

The Chinese government has said that the protesters who have not yet surrendered "will be punished". Its leaders are right now considering a crucial choice between escalating brutality or dialogue that could determine the future of Tibet, and China.

We can affect this historic choice--China does care about its international reputation. China's President Hu Jintao needs to hear that the 'Made in China' brand and the upcoming Olympics in Beijing can succeed only if he makes the right choice. But it will take an avalanche of global people power to get his attention--and we need it in the next 48 hours.

The Tibetan Nobel peace prize winner and spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama has called for restraint and dialogue: he needs the world's people to support him.

Please sign the petition--and spread the word--our goal is 1 million voices united for Tibet.

We will deliver our petition directly to Chinese officials in London, New York, and Beijing.

Hot tip re cold method

Others might already know about this, but I thought it would be useful to share just in case ...

It's the Snowflake method for writing a novel.

I haven't checked it out myself and quite possibly will never feel the need to, but what works for one person won't necessarily work for another, so I think it's good to know about the different strategic options available.

Unlikely combinations

They say you should never judge a book by its cover and the analogy is usually used as a warning against making assumptions about a person from their appearance.

So there I was on the bus.
And there was this young guy engrossed in a book.
He wore a sharp suit, his hair was gelled into spikes and he had a laddish glint in his eye.

And he was reading ...
Daphne du Maurier.

What's the most unlikely combination of reader and book you've seen?

Damn the damp

After my mum died, I filled a small suitcase with some special treasures: her passport, glasses, makeup bag, a couple of floaty blouses, some silk scarves ...
Nothing valuable in financial terms but every item selected for its sentimental value.

It may be over 16 years since she died, but in this time when we're building up to First Born's barmitzvah, I miss her more than ever.
I decided to retrieve the case and share the contents and their memories with the grandchildren she never met.

I went to find the suitcase in the cupboard but it seems a certain person who shall remain nameless had seen fit to move it to the garage.

As soon as I saw it and gasped at the side eaten away with damp I knew what I would find inside.
The contents were almost unrecognisable, disintegrating into dust as I tried to prise them apart.

'It's OK,' said wise FB to his howling mother. 'It's what you carry inside of you that matters.'
He's right of course, but it's hard to let go altogether.

I've managed to retrieve a few pieces that aren't visibly damaged, but they smell foul.
These are not the kind of things you can bung in a washing machine.

Anyone have any ideas how I can get rid of the smell?

I'm weary of conversations like this

The other day I was introduced to someone as an author.
The conversation (not the first of its kind) went like this:

Him: Published?
Me: Um yes. I've had two books published.
Him: How many copies sold?

At which point I go into mutter mumble waffle mode about sales being ok but given the state of the publishing industry ... etc etc.
And then you watch the other person's eyes glaze as they turn away, clearly dismissing you as unworthy of further attention.

Of all the questions you could ask when introduced to someone who writes books, why is it that the one that so often comes first is related to sales?

I need to come up with a standard response in situations like this that doesn't leave them feeling justified in writing me off and doesn't leave me feeling like a two-headed twat with an unpleasant dribbling habit.

Any suggestions would be gratefully received.

(On a brighter note, I met someone else yesterday who said how much she'd enjoyed both my books and that she'd passed them on to her sister-in-law who had also loved them and had now loaned them to another friend. Those readers won't have registered as sales, but are the kinds of responses every author craves.)

Who said bloggers ain't powerful?

The Guardian has published a list of the world's 50 most powerful bloggers.

How did they manage to limit themselves to 50???

DIY for authors

Given the current state of publishing (see here and track back all the links to previous posts for the full picture) it's no wonder so many writers choose to self-publish.

On the one hand, it's never been harder to get a traditional deal ...
On the other, there have never been so many alternative ways of getting your words out there yourself.

Here's an example:
YouWriteOn had formed a partnership with Legend Press offering packages for self-publishing writers, covering editing, text-setting, cover design, registration, sales and marketing.

See here for details.

Debi and her Dad. Part 11

So off I went to dad, looking forward to seeing him for the first time for ages without him having toothache.
(I took him to have some major dental surgery at the hospital last week which was traumatic for him to say the least.)

Aaaaggghhh! His face was covered in livid bruising and swelling down one side and across both lips!
And it wasn't connected to the dental extractions ...

He thinks he fell in the street yesterday.
At least this time his nose and glasses remained intact - and I suppose he doesn't have as many teeth left now to knock out ...

'Did you have your stick with you?' I asked, knowing that he's recently lost two of them.
'It was probably the bloody stick I tripped over,' he replied.

Yes, he still has his wicked sense of humour in spite of everything ...

LG came home from school and said they watched this video today and it made the kids really sad.
It feels appropriate to post the link here.

I had intended to try to fiddle with my template and get it back to how it was (don't like change!).
If I'd got it right, I would have been afloat on the sea of ultimate smugness.
Somehow it doesn't seem important now ...

That'll teach me

Bah! I thought I'd just nip in to update my links to include the lovely new bloggers I've recently met and I've only gone and changed the appearance of my whole blog!

But while I'm here - just a teensy mini meme.
This came in before I made the decision to back off and anyway it's from the lovely Lucy Pepper.
More importantly - it's short.

So I turn to page 123 of the nearest book to hand - Pomes by John Ahearn.
I'm supposed to go to the 5th sentence and then transcribe the next 3, only I'm going to do this as lines not sentences.

anyone would wish, given a choice,
propped on clean pillows, the family close,
framing their last thoughts, in their last voice.

And now I have to pass it on (at which point shouldn't a meme become a youyou?).

Shouting to Sharon at her brand new, stripped down sparkly blog and to Leslie, because I've never zapped her before.

Right - off to dad now, editing on tube with right hand and making lists with left.

Back seat blogging

Big changes are afoot and they're going to impact on my blogging for the next few months.

We're now 14 weeks away from First Born's barmitzvah (which I mentioned in passing here).

We're utterly overwhelmed with the amount that needs to be done - mostly by li'l ole me.

Poor FB has to learn his huge portion to read in Hebrew - particularly challenging for a kid with dyslexia.
Little Guy also has to learn a significant portion.

And I have to:

• teach them both
• design and send invitations
  
• organise the procedures for the service
• organise the party venue
• shop
  
• do all the catering
• juggle lists
• panic
  

G's main function is to do the driving including the part where he drives me up the wall and round the bend.
This is actually valuable as it's a sort of pressure cooker role - enabling me to freak out occasionally and let off steam.

The point is that I'm going to have to drop some of my other commitments for a bit.
Obviously dad remains a top priority.
Homework will still need to be done.
And I'm working extremely hard on freelance editing, which is essential.

But many other things - including this blog I'm afraid - are going to have to take a back seat until mid-June.
I'll still post here and let you know what's happening, but with regret my visits to other people's blogs are going to be rare.
And please please please don't tag me for memes etc!

Hope you understand!
If there's anything you think I might miss but really should know about, please leave a comment here or email me.