Tag Archives: writing

Thoughts of New Recipes

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We’ve not had pilaff for years and I, personally, haven’t made it for probably 40 years. It just faded out of my repertoire and never made it back. A lot of things are like that. At any one time I probably only use about half a dozen recipes, with a few variations to ensure we don’t eat the same thing too often.

We tend to eat a similar menu most weeks, with just a gradual change as the seasons move on. I have just started cooking quiches again now that summer is here, and vegetable stew has disappeared from the menu as root vegetables don’t seem so appealing in summer. We did have carrot in the coleslaw we had with the quiche earlier in the week, but that’s about it.

I’ve been looking up pilaff recipes today, as they seem to be a useful way of making a rice dish that uses stuff up. It’s a bit like Chinese rice, but over the years I’ve finally begun to get bored with it.

One of the recipes involved exotic mushrooms, dried mushrooms and mushroom powder. Another involved whatever mushrooms you had to hand and a stock cube. Guess which one we are trying next week?

Malta

Part of the problem is that every time I try something new, I fail to adopt it, even if it is nice. It’s much easier just to go into autopilot and make the same old thing, or a version of it, rather than doing something new.

Yes, I did make Chestnut and Mushroom Pie, and enjoyed it, but it involves dried mushrooms and chestnut which I don’t normally have in the cupboard. And the Woolton Pie was good, but the stew version is easier.

I really should try to do better.

But then, I should try to improve my blogging and poetry writing too.  They are both more interesting than filling quiches and steeping dried mushrooms.

Cactus hedge Malta

 

Notes from a Small City

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Blossom at Wilford

Got up, cooked breakfast, discovered I have ordered the wrong bacon this week, had coffee from the cafetiere (made by No 1 Son, who is a coffee aficionado), sat, redundant, while he and his mother muttered about wedding plans and played with their phones. Nobody holds conversations anymore.

It took 13 minutes to get to the station, as there were no hold-ups and 19 minutes to get back using a longer route as I try to relearn the geography of the area. If I’m being picky, it actually took 19 minutes to get there, but six of them were spent on the drive waiting as Julia discovered a couple of last minute jobs which, of course, took priority over punctuality.

Blossom at Wilford

There are no trains to Norwich due to work on the tracks so it is down to the good old “replacement bus service”.  Today’s “bus” is a luxury coach, so it isn’t too bad.

It is a pleasant morning, with a plentiful, and varied, supply of blossom and a variety of birds, including a pied wagtail, several lustrous blackbirds and the usual magpies and pigeons. It’s he sort of morning that makes you think you should write a poem. Later, I probably will.

I was reading some William Carlos Williams last night. They are quite short poems and I could probably write a lot of poems that length. I just need to have a range of suitable subjects and something interesting to say about them. That might be more difficult. As I’ve said before, there are plenty of words, and they aren’t the problem. Learning to put he right words in the right order is the skill, and that only be learned by laying down a lot of poorly selected words in the wrong order.

Try this for a poem about plums.

Reflected Plums – Victoria

I’d better get on with that now. Half an hour of poetry followed by getting lunch made for Julia before she goes to work in the tea room, and I will have several hours more to write before she returns home.

New Plans

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10.38.

Last night I decompressed by sneaking in a late night post.

Today I rose unwillingly, took Julia to wood turning, wrestled with my car clock (I always forget how to reset it when the clocks alter)  and sat down at the computer.

A tour of bloggers, a few comments, check my emails and i am about to write a post so it isn’t hanging over my head. I will then make final adjustments to two submission emails and, after sending them off, I will, as I said last night, re-evaluate my life.

I am, once again, doing too many things for other people and not enough for myself. I like writing about coins, for instance, but I don’t want to write something new every week. The idea was that I would assist in filling the Facebook page with content and encourage other people to contribute. I managed the first bit, but the second has not happened.  We have people in the society who could contribute, but they want to pursue their own projects and won’t even do a few hundred words for the society. Well, I have my own projects too.

My first priority is family. My second is my writing. I like writing. I have had ambitions to be a writer since I was about 8 years old.  Sadly, the ambition never came to much, but in retirement I have a small window of opportunity and really don’t want to waste it.

It’s like the rugby club. I have just been reading a piece about a junior rugby tour and it has brought back all sorts of memories, some good, but some not. People tell you that you’re doing good work, but when you ask other parents for help you find they all have other things to do.

This is, I think, a good place to stop.

 

 

 

Hard Work and a Sneak Thief at Work

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It was a big day for wring today. My normal bad organisation triumphed in the end and left me in a last-minute panic. Fortunately I was a bit better organised than usual and managed 12 submissions. It won’t be as bad as this all year – there is, for instance, only one planned submission for march.

The upshot was that I ordered pizza for tea as Julia was feeling under the weather and I didn’t have time to stop. We got a good deal and the food will last for two days. I am having salad delivered tomorrow, so we will have it with salad and baked potatoes.

Tonight, however, we had it with garlic bread and onion rings. A piece of garlic bread was missing. I shrugged it off, thinking I must have missed the portion size being reduced on the menu. Shrinkflation is all around us.

However, when the onion rings did not divide equally I knew something was wrong because I’d checked there were ten of them to satisfy myself about value for money.

Turns out we should have had four garlic bread too, so we are one piece of bread and one onion ring down. It’s not ahuge amount but it’s annoying. It also makes me wonder if someone along the line has had his larcenous, and possibly unhygienic fingers in my food. I doubt we will ever get to the bottom of it, as it’s impossible to actually prove we were short but unless I get at least a decent apology I won’t be going back to them.

Modern life is nothing like it was portrayed by Gerry Anderson and Eagle comic, though I don’t actually remember the Tracey brothers having a pizza delivery on the island, and I’m pretty sure dan Dare and Digby never had garlic bread and onion rings. Ah well!

Sorry about the lack of photos today. Julia took some more but by the time I got round to writing this I had only ten minutes to do it and get credit for posting on consecutive days. So I did most of the text, the title, the tags, the category and the single photo and pressed the Publish buton at a minute to midnight.

My paln worked, by the way, I am currently on a six day streak.

Is Writing a Pleasure or is it Publication?

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We woke this morning after hearing moderately heavy rain overnight. The general aspect of the morning was wet, rather than snowy, icy or frosty.  Looking at the choice of words there, I realise that the story of the Innuit and all their words for snow might not be as outlandish as we think. We seem to have a good selection of words for it and some years we don’t get any. This year, I think, we may have a snowy winter. That will be good as it will see a lot of rats and disease off. On the other hand, the birds will need plenty of food.

For the first time in 12 months the rain did not make it inside, the builders having done their job well. I can’t help thinking it may have been more cost effective just to retile he roof with banknotes but hopefully the pain will subside.

The worst bit of the builders being here, apart from having to get up at a time dictated by someone else, is that we had the dining table in the living space and the conservatory contents in the dining area. Two days of living with clutter brought back a lot of old memories and was not pleasant. This morning, as 7pm dawned, I pulled the flannelette duvet cover up to my chin, arranged the coverlet to block any gaps and luxuriated in the warmth. It was good.

I suppose I ought to have used this as the beginning of the last post, but that one seemed to take on a life of its own. I also note that I seem to be a day behind again. This, I think, is mainly due to my lack of routine. The days bleed into one, particularly if I sleep in front of TV and restart late at night. I must get to grips with this for several reasons – health, vitality, writing quality and consistency are ones I can think of immediately.

During the day I exchanged emails with someone who told me I shouldn’t be stressing over the amount I wrote as it should be a relaxation now I was retired. Writing, he said, should be a pleasure. I have never found it to be a pleasure. For me, the pleasure comes from finishing and from publication. The writing is a real grind.

How about you? And, as an extra question,  would you carry on writing if you had nobody to read it?

Two Acceptances and Plans for Writing and a Conservatory Roof

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Tree cutting on the island.

It happened again. It’s now January 3 and I have only published one post. I am now sitting up in the middle of the night trying not to fall too far behind.

I slept in late as a result of my nocturnal writing last night, allied to a late night for New Year. Then I watched antiques on TV, fell asleep in my chair, woke just before Julia returned from the cafe, did enough typing to make it look like I had been working and stopped for tea and cake, a visit from my sister with tarpaulins for tomorrow and watched quizzes. All in all, I did not distinguish myself with industry. Tomorrow? You are probably asking. Tomorrow we are emptying the conservatory and as long as the snow holds off we should have a new conservatory roof by the end of next week.

Black Headed Gull

Finally, 12 months after taking possession, we should be water-tight and fully repaired. We would be 100% functional if it wasn’t for the fault on the light switches in the hallway that started over Christmas and the back gate which is starting to fall apart. Annoyingly, in the old days, although I never meddled with electrics, I could have built a new gate in a day. Now I will have to pay someone to do it. Is there no end to household repairs?

Meanwhile, back with the writing, I have heard back from one of the editors I submitted to on 30th December. That’s fine service, and two more acceptances to add to my 2025 tally. That takes me to 53 for the year. It’s also means I have a number of rejects to form the basis for my submissions this month. I may well junk my haiku, as I very rarely manage to sneak one in but the returned haibun and tanka will all do for resubmission.

Mandarin drake at Arnot Hill Park, Nottinghamshire

Little and Large!

I have started a couple of new haibun too, having listed my work for the month ahead. It’s on an archaic spreadsheet – or “written on a piece of paper” as we used to call it, and I am feeling more organised. When I feel organised I always seem able to do more work. I won’t list my calculations, but I’m going to need to be organised if I have any chance of improving on last year, particularly as I want to improve my quality and increase my range.

The Heron is back again. Arnot Hill Park

 

 

A Lost Week!

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Golden key (actually silver-gilt, used by Sir Arthur Blake KBE at the opening of the Nottingham savings Bank branch on St Ann’s Well Road, Nottingham, November 23, 1926

I just looked at the date on my last post and received a shock. I knew it had been a while, but was amazed to find it was a whole seven days. So, what have I been doing?

Not much.

From the point of view of colour rendition this shows I stll have a lot to learn. Taken only seconds apart under the same light

I have become addicted to writing articles about junk. I have now done four for the research page of the Peterborough Military History Group, a couple more for the newsletter and nineteen posts for the Numismatic Society of Nottinghamshire Facebook page. I’m never sure if these really count as “acceptances” as they are short and they are submitted to people I know.  On the other hand, poems are short too. I became obsessed with “The Golden Key” as I started writing it. I’ve had it about 30 years and never really got on with it, so it was about time. I can’t set a link directly to it but it’s currently at the top if yo use the link above.

Even better if you can leave a “Like”. It’s part of my crusade to strike back against traditional coins. There’s a place for kings and stuff in numismatics, but for every King there are thousands of commoners and they all have stories too.

Sir Arthur Blake KBE JP – a photograph taken later in life – courtesy of the national portrait gallery.

Talking about acceptances – I had a rejection this morning. It means that my record for April is 100% rejections. Not one single acceptance. It’s a strange month, as there was only one journal open for submissions, and that was only open until 15th April, which is why I can tell you, by the 24th, that I have a 100% rejection record. I’m sure I’ll get over it.

That’s it for now. I will have some cracking photos for you over the next few days as we have been going through some old boxes. However, for now,

 

The Worm in the Apple

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Arnot Hill

It’s a very pleasant day today. The sun is shining, birds are feeding and the house is quiet. At a time like this I should be able to write tremendous things.

However, there’s always a worm in the apple and, as usual, I am failing to capitalise on my good fortune. I’m worrying about all sorts of things. They are all minor and they will all be resolved in time, but they seem to take the edge off things. On top of that, I don’t really have a plan, just a huge disorganised pile of things in my head with an imaginary notice that says “To Do”. It’s not much help.

Arnot Hill Park, Arnold, Nottingham

Then, of course, there is the feeling that I should just sit down and sort myself out. I’m in the same position as the hypothetical coach who offers his team the advice “score more goals” from the sidelines. It’s right, I do need (metaphorically speaking) score more goals, but I actually need help with the nuts and bolts rather than the grand picture.

You can’t just shout “score more tries” from the sidelines (note I’m reverting to rugby as it is a more comfortable place for me than football. It’s about the 101 ways a team does all the small things better – I once read an interesting piece about the effects of simply trying to gain a yard in every tackle, not just stopping the opposition but gaining a little ground each time.

Tufted Duck – Arnot Hill Park

There are around 700 tackles in the average Rugby League match. Assuming even distribution that means one team, if it can make an extra yard per tackle , can gain 350 yards per match. That’s 3.5 lengths of the pitch, giving you more chances to score, and keeping the opposition further out.

Same goes for Rugby Union. They make around 170 tackles per team per match, which is still nearly two pitch lengths, and it’s still an advantage worth having.  They do, of course, have other areas of the game missing from Rugby League, where they can employ similar small improvements.

The Heron is back again. Arnot Hill Park

So, my new list, which I am going to start working on as soon as I post this, will be about the nuts and bolts of writing. Picking the high value targets and cutting out distractions (like computer games and losing my notes).

However, by the time I have posted this, Julia will be home from her stint in the tearoom, and I will be distracted by making her lunch. Some things just can’t be avoided. Happy wife, happy life.

Greylag Goose Arnot Hill Park Arnold

By a great feat of organisation (I sometimes get it right) I have found the picture I need to match the title. The rest of the pictures are others from Arnot Hill Park which don’t show worms in apples.

Arnot Hill Park, Arnold, Nottingham

Note that the worm/apple, being an older sculpture, is treated with preservative. The newer ones are left to decay naturally. This old man/tree spirit sculpture shown below no longer exists, nature having taken its course.

Arnot Hill Park, Arnold, Nottingham

 

 

 

Cutting It Fine

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It is done. After another mad struggle I finally submitted my last of my ten submissions for the month. A while ago I was happy with my position, then it all slipped away. I lost my focus and my ability to write and it took the prospect of failure to kick-start my brains again.

This morning, having submitted only three lots, I ws seriously thinking about giving up. Then something took over. I got everything done, apart from two submissions to a magazine that hasn’t accepted anything from me since a change of editor  Then I had tea and watched the quizzes on TV. That left me with a couple of hours. So I watched The Yorkshire Auction House for a while.

Then I sang a song to myself and started again.

Every bursted bubble has a glory!
Each abysmal failure makes a point!
Every glowing path that goes astray,
Shows you how to find a better way.
So every time you stumble never grumble.
Next time you’ll bumble even less!
For up from the ashes, up from the ashes, grow the roses of success!
Grow the roses!
Grow the roses!
Grow the roses of success!

Yes, it’s the song from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. It seemed to work, because I managed to write 10 passable haiku, edit a couple of haibun and get it all sent off with four minutes to spare.

Next month I have only one submission in the plan, but will look for some more places to send stuff to. I my also have to start counting those other submissions I make. I know I’m not really competing for publication, and it would have to be pretty bad to get rejected, but it all takes time.

Photos from Julia.

 

 

The Pitfalls of Contentment

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Although I have a lot to look forward to and a lot to be grateful for – a new house, someone paying me not to work (or a pension as it is also known) and the ability to see Julia all day rather than just for a rushed breakfast and an evening of preparing for the next day, I am at a low ebb in other ways.

I am, for instance, just days away from the end of several submission windows, with nothing ready and, currently, no interest in writing poetry. It’s actually worse than it sounds, because I haven’t even done my list of planned submissions for the year. I’m sure it was only about a month since I said I was going to aim higher this year. So far I have done nothing.

Contentment, it seems, takes its toll.

My Orange Parker Pen

My plan is to improve by writing more. And to write more I have to submit more, because it doesn’t count as writing unless somebody judges it. For instance – my first paragraph uncoiled as one sentence. And that sentence is 65 words. Now, it’s well known that sentences over 30 words are difficult for most people to understand, the British Government style guide specifies a 25 word maximum and many authorities on writing suggest 15-20 words as being ideal, though James Joyce, who was probably a better writer than most Civil Servants, once wrote a sentence that was 4,391 words long (I knew I had a good reason for avoiding Joyce), so it’s fair to suggest that one of the benefits of submitting writing to editors is that they will curb these tendencies (though note how J K Rowling’s books got longer as she became more successful and no editor dared tell her to cut out half the words). I think that was 113   I am a mere amateur compared to Joyce. But you probably already knew that.

I’ve been getting complacent recently – submitting pieces for the Numismatic Society Facebook page does not involve a lot of competition as there are only two of us writing the posts, and that fell to one for a while over Christmas because the other writer was ill.

Time to start testing myself, I think. The only way to improve is to get a few rejections. That will wake me up.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com