45/52 2017

Week 45
06 - 12 November

One of our places that we go quite often is the garden centre. They have plants, they have a cafe, they have a soft play, and they also have a lot of tat for sale including this rack of toy vehicles.



Jamie worships this rack. I let him turn it himself (with a gentleness bordering on reverence) and on this occasion, he brought his I Spy Book of Every Vehicle On The Road (yes, it's a real book) so that he could sit there and do cross-referencing. He was so pleased when he found ones that matched!

26/52 2017

Week 26
26 June - 02 July



Jamie is still quite the bookworm and the highlight of any shopping trip is the run around Waterstones. Sometimes he spots a beloved favourite from his own collection, and we have to explain that his copy is still at home. The negotiations required to get him to hand over his chosen New Book for scanning at the counter are delicate to say the least. And the idea of waiting until we own a book before thrusting it at daddy demanding "read!" is just silly - what are parents for?

04/52 2017

I realise this picture of Jamie in his car seat wearing his (ok, my) favourite red jumper and blue bobble hat looks remarkably similar to this picture from November. But the important bit is the little blue teddy bear.

For this is no ordinary bear... This is a Bookstart Bear.

Jamie joined the library at the grand age of 16 days, and was given his Bookstart Bear "passport", which gets stamped every time we use the library, for books or for groups like Rhyme Time. Six stamps gets a certificate. And the tenth certificate, which we claimed this week, has a border of shiny gold, plus one of these exclusive teddy bears. We're quite proud.

51/52

I spent all weekend wondering which of these pictures I wanted to be this week's 52 Project photo but I really couldn't decide, so now it's Monday morning and I'm posting both of them.

First up, we have Jamie's second trip to the German Christmas Market in Birmingham. The first time I took him, he was all of about 7 weeks old and spent almost the entire time we were there snuggled up asleep. This time, he's rather more active... we had christmassy songs in the car on the way there and then let him loose in the toddler section of Teenie Weenies soft play (level 2 of the Moor Street car park; totally recommend it). Gave him lunch there as well, and then set out into the Market - upon which he promptly fell asleep in the sling on my lap. But eventually he woke up and seemed to be very interested in all the lights and sounds and smells.



(Also, I love his reindeer boots. They're warm for him and soft for me.)

The second photo is of Jamie about to read The Shepherd's Crown, the last Discworld book by the late Terry Pratchett.



No, really. He likes me to read out loud. Usually this takes the form of him selecting one of his rather shorter and more age-appropriate books and holding it up to the nearest adult with an expectant look on his face, but now every so often he'll climb up on me and reach for my current book, pulling it off the shelf if I let him. And then I read out loud while he cuddles up and occasionally gives the book a respectful stroke.

47/52

Our days continue to hold lots of trips to parks - or failing that, around and around our back yard - investigating leaves and twigs and mud, and practising walking.

But this photo record of Jamie also needs to include the great love of his life, which is his books.



Jamie adores books and is getting the hang of taking a book to an adult and gazing up hopefully at them so that they'll read to him. But he also likes to spend time "alone" with his books, by which I mean under supervision but without me interacting or interfering. He opens up several all around himself, as if he's cross-referencing. Occasionally there will be some obvious common denominator between all the open pages, like they all show different depictions of the same animal, or they all have similar colours. Other times, if there is a link I can't see it. In this picture,for instance, we have "that's not my badger! Its paws are too rough," Pip and Posy trying on clean clothes after a Little Accident, Mr Horse going clippety-clop, faster faster with Cat and Dog and Pig and Duck riding on his back, and Little Owl falling out of the nest at the beginning of A Bit Lost. Suggestions of what the link is will be welcome in the comments.

27/52

Another Jamie and Daddy week.



We are having rather a bumpy ride these last few weeks, and for Steve that turned into a literal bumpy ride when his car started acting up. It was purchased on price rather than reliability - in fact it cost less than my powerchair, although by now it's cost more in maintenance (to be fair I haven't driven the powerchair several thousand miles so it's not really a good comparison).

Jamie really likes being read to and apparently sees no difference between the Haynes manual for a Honda Del Sol, and Dr Seuss. It's clearly not quite as good as The Very Hungry Caterpillar, but then nothing is nor could be.

DWQ Part 7

Part 7 of the Discworld Wedding Quotes project. This is the final instalment. It would include The Amazing Maurice if I had been able to find anything in there, but I couldn't, so we are simply rounding off with a short and sweet selection from Nanny Ogg's Cookbook.

“They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, which just goes to show they're as confused about anatomy as they gen'rally are about everything else.”

“It is foresighted and useful for a young woman to become proficient in those arts which will keep a weak-willed man from straying. Learning to cook is also useful.”

“When I hear someone say that a husband cooks, I generally reckon it means he's got a recipe for something expensive and he does it twice a year. And then leaves the pans in the sink 'to soak'.”

On Courtship:
“It may come as a surprise that anyone needs any instructions about this, but even I was once a rather shy girl who had difficulty meeting young men. But it wore off by mid-morning when I realised what I was doing wrong.”

“We breed good men in Lancre, but I have to say sometimes they could do with a good ding around the lughole.”

“On long cold winter nights, when the young man may have come a long way, he is allowed to share a bed with the young lady, although both remain fully clothed and a bolster is put down the middle. However, since love traditionally laughs at locksmiths, it probably grins widely at a pillow full of feathers.”

"Lots of people have asked me for advice about this. They say, 'Mrs Ogg, can you just rely on there bein' a fight?' And, yes, you gen'rally can. My advice is to make sure the drink is strong enough and that people are seated right to make it happen quite soon. That way you've got it over with and can get on with things without that naggin' feelin' that something's wrong."



There we go. Thank you for reading, and I hope some brides and grooms to be find this series useful.

For me, the next step will be to shuffle these about in an Open Office Draw file, then print them out and try and do something pretty and papercrafty with them, so that they can be used as additional decorations.

Today is Valentine's Day. Steve and I have been engaged for a year and now have something less than 100 days to go until we tie the knot. We have the registrar, the venue, and the rings, so we definitely meet the basic criteria for a wedding - we even have the dress, the cake, and the full guest list complete with addresses. From here on in it should just be the frantic completion of dozens of DIY projects that seemed like a good idea when our Days Until count was still in three figures.

DWQ Part 6

Part 6 of the Discworld Wedding Quotes project. This covers the Tiffany Aching books: The Wee Free Men, A Hat Full Of Sky, Wintersmith, and I Shall Wear Midnight.


The Wee Free Men

“She'd never really liked the book. It seemed to her that it tried to tell her what to do and what to think. Don't stray from the path, don't open that door, but hate the wicked witch because she is wicked. Oh, and believe that shoe size is a good way of choosing a wife.”

“'We've scrubbed up quite nice, ye ken,' Rob Anybody said. 'Some o' the lads actually had a bath in the dewpond, e'en though 'tis only May, and Big Yan washed under his arms for the first time ever, and Daft Wullie has picked ye a bonny bunch of flowers...'”

Neither Rob nor Tiffany want to get married, but custom dictates that they must be betrothed, and that the bride must name the day...
“Tiffany took a deep breath. 'At the end of the world is a great big mountain of granite rock a mile high,' she said. 'And every year, a tiny bird flies all the way to the rock and wipes its beak on it. Well, when the little bird has worn the mountain down to the size of a grain of sand... that's the day I'll marry you, Rob Anybody Feegle!'
Rob Anybody's terror turned to outright panic, but then he hesitated and, very slowly, started to grin.
'Aye, guid idea,' he said slowly. 'It doesnae do tae rush these things.'
'Absolutely,' said Tiffany.
'And that'd gi' us time tae sort oout the guest list an a' that,' the pictsie went on.
'That's right.'
'Plus there's a' that business wi' the wedding dress and buckets o' flowers and a' that kind of stuff,' said Rob Anybody, looking more cheerful by the second. 'That sort o' thing can tak' for ever, ye ken.'”


A Hat Full of Sky

“He hadn't been a husband for very long, but upon marriage men get a whole lot of extra senses bolted into their brain, and one is there to tell a man that he's suddenly neck deep in real trouble.”

“If there's one thing a Feegle likes more than a party, it's a bigger party, and if there's anything better than a bigger party, it's a bigger party with someone else paying for the drink.”


Wintersmith

“'Aye, but the boy willnae be interested in marryin',' said Slightly Mad Angus.
'He might be, one day,' said Billy Bigchin, who'd made a hobby of watching humans. 'Most bigjob men get married.'
'They do?' said a Feegle, in astonishment.
“Oh, aye.'
'They want to get married?'
'A lot o' them do, aye,' said Billy.
'So there's nae more boozin', stealin' an' fighting?'
'Hey, ah'm still allowed some boozin' an' stealin' an' fightin'!' said Rob Anybody.
'Aye, Rob, but we cannae help noticin' ye also have tae do the Explainin', too,' said Daft Wullie.”

“She'd sometimes wondered if she'd get married one day, but she was definite that now was too soon for 'one day'.”

“'This lad Roland who is not your young man,' said Nanny, when Tiffany had paused for breath. 'Thinking of marrying him, are you?'
Don't lie, the Third Thoughts insisted.
'I... well, your mind comes up with all kinds of things when you're not paying attention, doesn't it?' said Tiffany. 'It's not like thinking.'”

The Nac Mac Feegles are debating Romance...
“'So it is like how babbies are made?' said Daft Wullie.
'No, 'cos even beasties know that but only people know aboot Romancin',' said Rob. 'When a bull coo meets a lady coo he disnae have tae say, “My heart goes bang-bang-bang when I see your wee face,” 'cos it's kinda built in tae their heads. People have it more difficult. Romancin' is verrae important, ye ken. Basically it's a way the boy can get close to the girl wi'oot her attackin' him and scratchin' his eyes oot.'”


I Shall Wear Midnight

“Rob Anybody put a finger to his lips. 'Ah, weel, it can be a wee bit difficult with womenfolk arguing, ye ken. Keep right oot of it, if ye'll tak' ma advice as a married man. Any man who interferes in the arguin' of women is gonnae find both of them jumping up and doon on him in a matter o' seconds.'”

“'There's a reason for all the superstitions. The time around weddings and funerals is fraught with stress for all concerned, except in the case of the funeral, for the chief, as it were, player.'”

“'I hear that the lads came back from their stag night fun,' said Nanny, 'but it seems to me they've forgotten where they left the groom. I don't think he is going to go anywhere, though. They are pretty certain they took his trousers down and tied him to something.' She coughed. 'That's generally the usual procedure. Technically the best man is supposed to remember where, but they found him and he can't remember his own name.'”

On the word “buxom”...
“'Yes,' said the bride-to-be. 'I'm afraid I'm not, very, um, large in that department.'
'That would have been a bit unfortunate a couple of hundred years ago because the wedding service in those days required a bride to be buxom towards her husband.'
'I'd have had to push a cushion down my bodice!'
'Not really; it used to mean kind, understanding and obedient,' said Tiffany.
'Oh, I can do those,' said Letitia. 'At least, the first two,' she added with a grin.”

“Weddings can be quite similar to funerals in that, apart from the main players, when it's all over, people are never quite sure what they should be doing next, which is why they see if there is any wine left.”

DWQ Part 5

Part 5 of the Discworld Wedding Quotes project. This covers books 28 - 32 of the series: Monstrous Regiment, Going Postal, Thud!, Making Money, and Unseen Academicals. It also includes the graphic novel The Last Hero and the OOK! Ankh-Morpork Librarians' Award - Children's Winner Where's My Cow?

Monstrous Regiment

“His wife's long illness and Paul's long absence had taken a lot out of her father. Polly was glad some of it was being put back. The old ladies who spent their days glowering from their windows might spy and peeve and mumble, but they had been doing that for too long. No one listened any more.”

“'Sorry, what was that?' said Polly.
'Going to find my husband,' said Shufti, only a little bit louder.
'Oh, dear. How long had you been married?' said Polly, without thinking.
'...not married yet...' said Shufti, in a voice as tall as an ant.
Polly glanced down at the plumpness of Shufti. Oh, dear.”

“'There's a kind of beetle where she bites his head off right while he's exercisin' his conjugals, and that's what I call serious grief. On the other hand, from what I heard he carries on regardless, so maybe it's not the same for beetles.'”


Going Postal

“Would you like to have dinner tonight?”
“I like to have dinner every night. With you? No. I have things to do. Thank you for asking.”


Thud!

“'Lady Sybil sighed. 'I think I shall have to have a word with Havelock about the hours he makes you keep,' she said. 'It's not doing you any good, you know.'
'It's the job, dear. Sorry.'
'It's just as well I got the cook to make up a flask of soup, then.'
'You did?'
'Of course. I know you, Sam.'”

“'And incidentally, tomato ketchup is not a vegetable,' Sybil added. 'Not even the dried stuff around the top of the bottle.'”

“Usually she got her own way and he was happy to give it to her, but the unspoken agreement was that when he really insisted, she listened.”

“Against all common sense, he agreed with Sybil. Home was where they were together.”

“”But it was a wife thing. She took such a... a pride in him. He could never work out why.”


Making Money

“'Do you have a young lady?' she asked, raising the glass.
'Yes.'
'Does she know what you're like?'
'Yes. I keep telling her.'
'Doesn't believe you, eh? Ah, such is the way of a woman in love,' sighed Mrs Lavish.
'I don't think it worries her, actually. She's not your average girl.'”

“Moist drummed his fingers on the desk. A year ago he'd asked Adora Belle Dearheart to be his wife, and she'd explained that in fact he was going to be her husband. It was going to be... well, it was going to be some time in the near future, when Mrs Dearheart finally lost patience with her daughter's busy schedule and arranged the wedding herself.”

“'I think my secretary is, uh, getting sweet on me. Well, I say secretary, she's sort of assumed that she is.'
Some fiancées would have burst into tears or shouted. Adora Belle burst out laughing.”

“'He acted as if he'd never seen a woman before!'
'He's just not used to things that don't come with a manual,' said Moist.
'Hah,' said Adora Belle. 'Why is it only men get like that?'
Earns a tiny wage working for golems, thought Moist. Puts up with graffiti and smashed windows because of golems. Camps out in wildernesses, argues with powerful men. All for golems. But he didn't say anything, because he'd read the manual.”

“'It Does Not Say Anything About Dusting Under The Floor In Lady Waggon's Book Of Household Management.'
'Gladys, a man may be dying under there!'
'I See. That Would Be Untidy.' The beams rattled under a blow. 'Lady Waggon Says That Any Bodies Found During A Week-End Party Should Be Disposed Of Discreetly, In Case Of Scandal.'”

“…the staff had realized what their ears had heard, and closed in on the couple, the women drawn to the soon-not-to-be-Miss Drapes by the legendarily high gravity of an engagement ring, while the men went from slapping Mr. Bent on the back to the unthinkable, which involved picking him up and carrying him around the room on their shoulders.”


Unseen Academicals

“'Writing a poem is often the way to the intended's heart,' said Nutt.
Trev brightened. 'Ah, I'm good with words. If I wrote 'er a letter, you could give it to 'er, right? If I write it on posh paper, something like, let's see... “I think you are really fit. How about a date? No hanky panky, I promise. Luv, Trev.” How does that sound?'
'The soul of it is pure and noble, Mister Trev. But, ah, if I could assist in some way...?'”

Nutt has written a poem for Trev to give to Juliet... “Broadly speaking, sir, it carries the message you have asked for, which is to say 'I think you're really fit. I really fancy you. Can we have a date? No hanky panky, I promise.' However, sir, since it is a love poem, I have taken the liberty of altering it slightly to carry the suggestion that if hanky or panky should appear to be welcomed by the young lady she will not find you wanting in either department.”

“'There is to be no sexual congress.'
This did not meet with the reaction he had expected.
'That means talking about it, doesn't it?' said the Chair of Indefinite Studies.
'No, that's oral sex,' said Rincewind.
'No, that's listening to it.'”


The Last Hero

“'How about Pamdar the Witch Queen?' said Evil Harry. 'Now there was--'
'Retired,' said Cohen.
'She'd never retire!'
'Got married,' Cohen insisted.
'But she was a devil woman!'
'We all get older, Harry. She runs a shop now. Pam's Pantry. Makes marmalade,' said Cohen.
'What? She used to queen it in a throne on top of a pile of skulls!'
'I didn't say it was very good marmalade.'”


Where's My Cow?

“Hooray, hooray, what a wonderful day, for I have found my cow!”

DWQ Part 4

Part 4 of the Discworld Wedding Quotes project. This covers books 22 - 27 of the series: The Last Continent, Carpe Jugulum, Fifth Elephant, The Truth, Thief of Time, and Night Watch.


The Last Continent

“'I don't think I'm related to any apes,' said the Senior Wrangler thoughtfully. 'I mean, I'd know, wouldn't I? I'd get invited to their weddings and so on. My parents would have said something like, “Don't worry about Uncle Charlie, he's supposed to smell like that,” wouldn't they?'”

“Wizards lack the HW chromosome in their genes. Feminist researchers have isolated this as the one which allows people to see the washing-up in the sinks before the life forms growing there have actually invented the wheel.”

“'So how exactly does it work, then?' said the Senior Wrangler. 'A female baboon sees a male baboon and says, “My word, that's a very colourful bottom and no mistake, let us engage in... nuptial activity”?'
'I must say I've often wondered about that sort of thing myself,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. 'Take frogs. Now, if I was a lady frog looking for a husband, I'd want to know about, well, size of legs, competence at catching flies-'
'Length of tongue,' said Ridcully. 'Dean, will you please take something for that cough?'”

“On these occasions when he had spent some time in the intimate company of a woman, it was generally when she was trying to either cut his head off or persuade him to a course of action that would probably get someone else to do it. When it came to women he was not, as it were, capable of much fine-tuning.”


Carpe Jugulum

“'It's amazing what a wife can do if she knows her own mind, or minds in your case, course. Look at King Verence the First, for one. He used to toss all his meat bones over his shoulder until he was married and the Queen made him leave them on the side of the plate. I'd only bin married to the first Mr Ogg for a month before he was getting out of the bath if he needed to pee. You can refine a husband.'”

Magrat is teasing Nanny Ogg that Igor has a crush on her...
“'I think he's a bit of a romantic, actually,' said Magrat.
'Oh, I don't know, I really don't,' said Nanny. 'I mean, it's flattering and everything, but I really don't think I could be goin' out with a man with a limp.'
'Limp what?'
Nanny Ogg had always considered herself unshockable, but there's no such thing. Shocks can come from unexpected directions.
'I am a married woman,' said Magrat, smiling at her expression. And it felt good, just once, to place a small tintack in the path of Nanny's carefree amble through life.”

Magrat is musing on married life...
“'But now I understand what your jokes were about.'
'What, all of them?' said Nanny, like someone who'd found all the aces removed from their favourite pack of cards.
'Well, not the one about the priest, the old woman and the rhinoceros.'
'I should just about hope so!' said Nanny. 'I didn't understand that one until I was forty!'”

More vampires...
“The Countess clutched his arm. 'Oh, this does so remind me of our honeymoon,' she said. 'Don't you remember those wonderful nights in Grjsknvij?'
'Oh, fresh morning of the world indeed,' said the Count solemnly.
'Such romance... and we met such lovely people, too. Do you remember Mr and Mrs Harker?'
'Very fondly. I recall they lasted nearly all week.'”


Fifth Elephant

“A marriage is made up of two people who are prepared to swear that only the other one snores.”

“Sam Vimes could parallel-process. Most husbands can. They learn to follow their own line of thought while at the same time listening to what their wives say. And the listening is important, because at any time they could be challenged and must be ready to quote the last sentence in full. A vital additional skill is being able to scan the dialogue for telltale phrases, such as 'and they can deliver it tomorrow' or 'so I've invited them for dinner' or 'they can do it in blue, really quite cheaply'.”

“She was proud of Sam. He worked hard for a lot of people. He cared about people who weren't important. He always had far more to cope with than was good for him. He was the most civilized man she'd ever met. Not a gentleman, thank goodness, but a gentle man.”

“'My husband is a little unwell at the moment,' said Serafine, in the special wife voice which Vimes recognised as meaning 'He thinks he's fine right now but just you wait until I get him alone.'”


The Truth

“'You're not going to kill anyone, are you?'
'Miss, we don't do that sort of thing!'
Sacharissa looked a little disappointed. She'd been a respectable young woman for some time. In certain people, that means there's a lot of dammed-up disreputability just waiting to burst out.”

“William had never seen anyone to whom the word 'harangued' could be so justifiably applied. It meant someone who'd been talked at by Sacharissa for twenty minutes.”


Thief of Time

“Wen considered the nature of time and understood that the universe is, instant by instant, re-created anew. Therefore, he understood, there is, in truth, no Past, only a memory of the Past. Blink your eyes, and the world you see next did not exist when you closed them. Therefore, he said, the only appropriate state of the mind is surprise. The only appropriate state of the heart is joy. The sky you see now, you have never seen before. The perfect moment is now. Be glad of it.”

“'We're having rabbit,' Mrs War said. 'I'm sure I can make it stretch to three.'
War's big red face wrinkled. 'Do I like rabbit?'
'Yes, dear.'
'I thought I liked beef.'
'No, dear. Beef gives you wind.'
'Oh.' War sighed. 'Any chance of onions?'
'You don't like onions, dear.'
'I don't?'
'Because of your stomach, dear.'
'Oh.'
War smiled awkwardly at Death. 'It's rabbit,' he said.
Despite himself, Death was fascinated. He had never come across the idea of keeping your memory inside someone else's head.”

“According to the food standards of the great chocolate centres in Borogravia and Quirm, Ankh-Morpork chocolate was formally classed as 'cheese' and only escaped, through being the wrong colour, being defined as 'tile grout'.”

“Against one perfect moment, the centuries beat in vain.”


Night Watch

“'Oh dear.' The lady gave him a smile. 'You are incorruptible?'
Oh dear, here we go again, thought Vimes. Why did I wait until I was married to become strangely attractive to powerful women? Why didn't it happen to me when I was sixteen? I could have done with it then.
He tried to glare, but that probably only made it worse.”

“'You don't have to ask him, Rutherford, it's his duty to protect us,' snapped the woman who was standing beside the man with an air of proprietorship. Vimes changed his mind about the man. Yes, he had that furtive look of a timid domestic poisoner about him, the kind of man who would be appalled at the idea of divorce but would plot womanslaughter every day. And you could see why.”

“Lord Albert Selachii didn't much like parties. There was too much politics.”

“'Ah, you must be the lady from Genua,' he said, taking her hand. 'I have heard so much about you.'
'Anything good?' said Madam.
His lordship glanced across the room. His wife appeared to be deep in conversation. He knew to his cost that her wifely radar could fry an egg half a mile away. But the champagne had been good.
'Mostly expensive,' he said.”

DWQ Part 3

Part 3 of the Discworld Wedding Quotes project. This covers books 15 - 21 of the series: Men At Arms, Soul Music, Interesting Times, Maskerade, Feet Of Clay, Hogfather, and Jingo.

Men At Arms

“Sergeant Colon had been happily married for years, perhaps because he and his wife arranged their working lives so that they only met occasionally, normally on the doorstep.”

“It takes a very special and strong-minded kind of atheist to jump up and down with their hand clasped under their other armpit and shout, 'Oh, random fluctuations in the space-time continuum!' or 'Aaargh, primitive and outmoded concept on a crutch!'”

“She vaguely suspected that Carrot was trying to court her. But, instead of the usual flowers or chocolates, he seemed to be trying to gift-wrap a city.”

“As for Gaspode, he was resigning himself to a life without love, or at least any more than the practical affection experienced so far, which had consisted of an unsuspecting chihuahua and a brief liaison with a postman's leg.”

“The service itself was going to be performed by the Dean, who had carefully made one up; there was no official civil marriage service in Ankh-Morpork, other than something approximating to 'Oh, all right then, if you really must.'”

“'And the best man?'
'What?'
'The best man. You know? He hands you the ring and has to marry the bride if you run away and so on. The Dean's been reading up on it, haven't you, Dean?'
'Oh, yes,' said the Dean, who'd spent all the previous day with Lady Deidre Waggon's Book Of Etiquette. 'She's got to marry someone once she's turned up. You can't have unmarried brides flapping around the place, being a danger to society.'”

Soul Music
Strangely, I couldn't find anything at all in Soul Music.


Interesting Times

“It was, as always, a matter of protocol. Of discretion. Of careful etiquette. Of, ultimately, alcohol. Or at least the illusion of alcohol.”

Maskerade

“Of course, it was nothing but an old superstition and belonged to the unenlightened days when 'maiden' or 'mother' or ... the other one ... encompassed every woman over the age of twelve or so, except for maybe nine months of her life. These days, any girl bright enough to count and sensible enough to take Nanny's advice could put off being at least one of them for quite some time.”

“And pretty soon now young Mildred Tinker's mother would have a quiet word with Mildred Tinker's father, and he'd have a word with his friend Thatcher and he'd have a word with his son Hob, and then there'd be a wedding, all done in a properly civilised way except for maybe a black eye or two.”

“While kissing initially seemed to have more charms than cookery, a stolid Lancre lad looking for a bride would bear in mind his father's advice that kisses eventually lost their fire but cookery tended to get even better over the years, and direct his courting to those families that clearly showed a tradition of enjoying their food.”

“Agnes's life unrolled in front of her. It didn't look as thought it were going to have many high points. But it did hold years and years of being capable and having a lovely personality. It almost certainly held chocolate rather than sex and, while Agnes was not in a position to make a direct comparison, and regardless of the fact that a bar of chocolate could be made to last all day, it did not seem a very fair exchange.”

“Nanny enjoyed music, as well. If music were the food of love, she was game for a sonata and chips at any time.”

“They say that Queen Ezeriel of Klatch had a squint, but that didn't stop her having fourteen husbands, and that was only the official score.”


Feet Of Clay

“Good old Sybil - although she did tend to talk about curtains these days, but Sergeant Colon had said this happened to wives and was a biological thing and perfectly normal.”

“Words In The Heart Can Not Be Taken”


Hogfather
I couldn't find anything wedding-related in Hogfather, but I did like this computer-related one which resonates to any computer user who has been designated as their family's tech support...

“Hex worried Ponder Stibbons. He didn't know how it worked, but everyone else assumed that he did.”


Jingo

“'You will try to look dignified, won't you?' said Lady Sybil, adjusting his cloak.
'Yes, dear.'
'What will you try to look?'
'Dignified, dear.'
'And please try to be diplomatic.'
'Yes, dear.'
'What will you try to be?'
'Diplomatic, dear.'
'You're using your “henpecked” voice, Sam.'
'Yes, dear.'
'You know that's not fair.'”

“'Sam?'
Vimes looked up from his reading.
'Your soup will be cold,' said Lady Sybil from the far end of the table. 'You've been holding that spoonful in the air for the last five minutes by the clock.'
'Sorry, dear.'
Belatedly, his nuptial radar detected a certain chilliness from the far side of the cruet.
'Is, er, there something wrong, dear?' he said.
'Can you remember when we last had dinner together, Sam?'
'Tuesday, wasn't it?'
'That was the Guild of Merchants' annual dinner, Sam.'
Vimes's brow wrinkled. 'But you were there too, weren't you?'”

DWQ Part 2

Part 2 of the Discworld Wedding Quotes project. This covers books 11 - 14 of the series: Reaper Man, Witches Abroad, Small Gods, and the one everyone thinks of as the wedding book, Lords and Ladies.

Reaper Man

“'And you're a vampire too, Countess Notfaroutoe?' Windle Poons enquired politely.
The Countess smiled. 'My vord, yes,' she said.
'By marriage,' said Arthur.
'Can you do that? I thought you had to be bitten,' said Windle.
'I don't see why I should have to go around biting my wife after thirty years of marriage, and that's flat,' said the Count.”

“Bill Door was no good at reading faces. It was a skill he'd never needed. He stared at Miss Flitworth's frozen, worried, pleading smile like a baboon looking for meaning in the Rosetta Stone.”

For some quite complicated reasons, Death, as his alter-ego Bill Door, is taking Miss Flitworth to a dance. Not being experienced in these matters, he falls back on clichés...
“'Bill Door? You gave me quite a start-'
'I have brought you some flowers.'
She stared at the dry, dead stems.
'Also some chocolate assortment, the sort ladies like.'
She stared at the black box.
'Also here is a diamond to be friends with you.'”


Witches Abroad

“When Desiderata Hollow was a girl, her grandmother had given her four important pieces of advice to guide her young footsteps on the unexpectedly twisting pathway of life. They were:
Never trust a dog with orange eyebrows.
Always get the young man's name and address.
Never get between two mirrors.
And always wear completely clean underwear every day because you never knew when you were going to be knocked down and killed by a runaway horse and if people found you had unsatisfactory underwear on, you'd die of shame.”

“The coachmen and footmen were sitting in their shed at one side of the stable yard, eating their dinner and complaining about having to work on Dead Night. They were also engaging in the time-honoured rituals that go therewith, which largely consist of finding out what their wives have packed for them today and envying the other men whose wives obviously cared more.”

“It is a universal fact that any innocent comment made by any recently-married young member of any workforce is an instant trigger for coarse merriment among his or her older and more cynical colleagues. This happens even if everyone concerned has nine legs and lives at the bottom of an ocean of ammonia on a huge cold planet. It's just one of those things.”


Small Gods
Not strictly wedding-related, but excellent life advice.

"The Turtle Moves!"

“I. This is Not a Game.
II. Here and Now, You are Alive.”

Lords and Ladies
Sorry about all the introductions. So many of these had explanations that were several pages long and references buried in the opening sections of the book. I've done my best to condense.

King Verence has just proposed to Magrat, leaving her rather nonplussed as it was not the proposal she had hoped for...
“Perhaps that was normal. Kings were busy people. Magrat's experience of marrying them was limited.”

“'Nanny, would you like to be a bridesmaid?'
'Not really, dear. Bit old for that sort of thing.' Nanny hovered. 'There isn't anything else you need to ask me, though, is there?'
'What do you mean?'
'What with your mum being dead and you having no female relatives and everything...'
Magrat still looked puzzled.
'After the wedding, is what I'm hinting about,' said Nanny.
'Oh, that. No, most of that's being done by a caterer.'”

On the difficulties of arranging a royal wedding...
“It's different, for royalty. For one thing, you've already got everything. The traditional wedding list with the complete set of tupperware and the twelve-piece dining set looks a bit out of place when you've already got a castle...”

On the difficulties of arranging a royal wedding...
“And then there's the guest list. It's bad enough at an ordinary wedding, what with old relatives who dribble and swear, brothers who get belligerent after one drink, and various people who Aren't Talking to other people because of What They Said About Our Sharon. Royalty has to deal with entire countries who get belligerent after one drink, and entire kingdoms who have Broken Off Diplomatic Relations after what the Crown Prince Said About Our Sharon.”

Granny Weatherwax and Archchancellor Ridcully, once teenage sweethearts, meet again for the first time in decades...
“- there should have been violins. The murmur of the crowd should have faded away, and the crowd itself should have parted in a quite natural movement to leave an empty path between her and Ridcully.
There should have been violins. There should have been something.
There shouldn't have been the Librarian accidentally knuckling her on the toe on his way to the buffet, but this, in fact, there was.
She hardly noticed.”

It's the evening before her wedding, and Magrat has locked herself in her room and is refusing to talk to her groom-to-be...
“'Tell you what,' said Nanny, patting him on the back, 'you go and preside over the Entertainment and hobnob with the other nobs. I'll see to Magrat, don't you worry. I've been a bride three times, and that's only the official score.'
'Yes, but she should-'
'I think if we all go easy on the “shoulds”,' said Nanny, 'we might all make it to the wedding.'”

“Nanny Ogg was an attractive lady, which is not the same thing as being beautiful. She fascinated Casanunda. She was an incredibly comfortable person to be around, partly because she had a mind so broad it could accommodate three football fields and a bowling alley.”

Magrat tries on the wedding dress Verence has ordered for her...
“It fitted. Or rather, it didn't fit but in a flattering way. Whatever Verence had paid, it had been worth it. The dressmaker had done cunning things with the material, so that it went in where Magrat went straight up and down and billowed out where Magrat didn't.”

“'That's the thing about the future. It could turn out to be anything. And everything.'”

“Nanny said, 'Funny to think of our Magrat being married and everything.'
'What do you mean, everything?'
'Well, you know - married,' said Nanny. 'I gave her a few tips. Always wear something in bed. Keeps a man interested.'
'You always wore your hat.'
'Right.'”

“'I thought the wedding feast was very good, didn't you? And Magrat looked radiant, I thought.'
'I thought she looked hot and flustered.'
'That is radiant, with brides.'”

DWQ Part 1

Part 1 of the Discworld Wedding Quotes project. This covers the first ten books of the series: The Colour of Magic; The Light Fantastic; Equal Rites; Mort; Sourcery; Wyrd Sisters; Pyramids; Guards! Guards!; Eric; Moving Pictures.

The Colour of Magic

“Hrun met her gaze. He thought about his life, to date. It suddenly seemed to him to have been full of long damp nights sleeping under the stars, desperate fights with trolls, city guards, countless bandits and evil priests and, on at least three occasions, actual demigods - and for what? Well, for quite a lot of treasure, he had to admit - but where had it all gone? Rescuing beleaguered maidens had a certain passing reward, but most of the time he'd finished up by setting them up in some city somewhere with a handsome dowry, because even the most agreeable ex-maiden became possessive and had scant sympathy for his efforts to rescue her sister sufferers.”


The Light Fantastic

“'What is it that you look for in a woman now?'
Cohen turned one rheumy blue eye on him.
'Patience,' he said.”

“'This is, uh, serious?' he said. 'You're really going to marry her?'
'Shure thing. Any objections?'
'Well, no, of course not, but - I mean, she's seventeen and you're, you're how can I put it, you're of the elderly persuasion.'
'Time I shettled down, you mean?'”

Equal Rites
I didn't find anything in Equal Rites. If you can, tell me!


Mort

“His mouth opened and shut. Mort wanted to say: thirdly, you're so beautiful, or at least very attractive, or anyway far more attractive than any other girl I've ever met, although admittedly I haven't met very many. From this it will be seen that Mort's innate honesty will never make him a poet; if Mort ever compared a girl to a summer's day, it would be followed by a short explanation of what day he had in mind and whether it was raining at the time. In the circumstances, it was just as well that he couldn't find his voice.”

“'Obviously we shouldn't get married, if only for the sake of the children.'”

“The Disc's greatest lovers were undoubtedly Mellius and Gretelina, whose pure, passionate and soul-searing affair would have scorched the pages of History if they had not, because of some unexplained quirk of fate, been born two hundred years apart on different continents.”

“Look, how about this? Let's pretend we've had the row and I've won. See? It saves a lot of effort.”

“'To be frank, I thought you were going to marry the princess.'
Mort blushed. 'We talked about it,' he said. 'Then we thought, just because you happen to rescue a princess, you shouldn't rush into things.'
'Very wise. Too many young women leap into the arms of the first young man to wake them after a hundred years' sleep, for example.'”


Sourcery

“'They'll throw you into a seraglio!'
Conina shrugged. 'Could be worse.'
'But it's got all these spikes and when they shut the door--' hazarded Rincewind.
'That's not a seraglio. That's an Iron Maiden. Don't you know what a seraglio is?'
'Um...'
She told him. He went crimson.”

“The world had suddenly separated into two parts - the bit which contained Nijel and Conina, and the bit which contained everything else. The air between them crackled. Probably, in their half, a distant orchestra was playing, bluebirds were tweeting, little pink clouds were barrelling through the sky, and all the other things that happen at times like this. When that sort of thing is going on, mere collapsing palaces in the next world don't stand a chance.”


Wyrd Sisters

“The best you could say for Magrat was that she was decently plain and well-scrubbed and as flat-chested as an ironing board with a couple of peas on it.”

“The Fool held his breath. On long nights on the hard flagstones he had dreamed of women like her. Although, if he really thought about it, not much like her; they were better endowed around the chest, their noses weren't so red and pointed, and their hair tended to flow more. But the Fool's libido was bright enough to tell the difference between the impossible and the conceivably attainable, and hurriedly cut in some filter circuits.”

A nervous Magrat has spent a couple of hours trying to improve her appearance...
“In a certain light and from a carefully chosen angle, Magrat was not unattractive. Whether any of these preparations did anything for her is debatable, but they did mean that a thin veneer of confidence overlaid her trembling heart.”


Pyramids

“He glanced down involuntarily and saw that every toenail was painted. He remembered Cheesewright telling them behind the stables one lunch-hour that girls who painted their toenails were... well, he couldn't quite remember now, but it had been pretty unbelievable at the time.”

“Deep in the duffel coat of his mind he hoped to one day find a nice girl who would understand the absolute importance of getting every detail right on a ceremonial six-wheeled ox-cart, and who would hold his glue-pot, and always be ready with a willing thumb whenever anything needed firm pressure until the paste dried.”

“'There you are, then. I knew the two of you would get along like a house on fire.' Screams, flames, people running for safety...”


Guards! Guards!

“'It's not that they don't like you, you're a steady lad and a fine worker, you'd make a good son-in-law. Four good sons-in-law. That's the trouble. And she's only sixty, anyway. It's not proper. It's not right.'”

“Sergeant Colon owed thirty years of happy marriage to the fact that Mrs Colon worked all day and Sergeant Colon worked all night. They communicated by means of notes. He got her tea ready before he left at night, she left his breakfast nice and hot in the oven in the mornings. They had three grown-up children, all born, Vimes had assumed, as a result of extremely persuasive handwriting.”

“This morning I went for a walk with Reet and showed her many interesting examples of the ironwork to be found in the city. She said it was very interesting. She said I was quite different to anyone she's ever met.”

“And then it struck Vimes that, in her own special category, she was quite beautiful; this was the category of all the women, in his entire life, who had ever thought he was worth smiling at. She couldn't do worse, but then, he couldn't do better. So maybe it balanced out. She wasn't getting any younger, but then, who was? And she had style and money and common-sense and self-assurance and all the things he didn't, and she had opened her heart, and if you let her she could engulf you; the woman was a city.
And eventually, under siege, you did what Ankh-Morpork had always done - unbar the gates, let the conquerors in, and make them your own.”


Eric

Eric wants to meet the Discworld equivalent of Helen of Troy. Rincewind objects...
“'Listen,' he said. 'We're in the middle of the most famously fatuous war there has ever been, any minute now thousands of warriors will be locked in mortal combat, and you want me to go and find this over-rated female and say, my friend wants to know if you'll go out with him. Well, I won't.'”


Moving Pictures

“'You know, this place looks familiar,' he said. 'We did our first click here. It's where I first met her.'
'Very romantic,' said Gaspode distantly, hurrying away with Laddie bounding happily around him. 'If something 'orrible comes out of that door, you can fink of it as Our Monster.'”

“'The boy isn't doing anything.'
'He's useless,' said the mouse.
'He's in love,' said Gaspode. 'It's very tricky.'
'Yeah, I know how it ish,' said the cat sympathetically. 'People throwing old boots and things at you.'
'Old boots?' said the mouse.
'That'sh what's always happened to me when I've been in love.'”

“She don't know what she wants. I do what she want, then she say, that not right, you a troll with no finer feelin', you do not understand what a girl wants. She say, Girl want sticky things to eat in a box with bow around, I make box with bow around, she open box, she scream, she say flayed horse not what she mean. She don't know what she wants.”

Fantastic Mr Fox

Last night, Steve and I went with some friends to see Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs. Synopsis in a can: amateur scientist invents machine that makes food from water, greed, lack of forethought, it all goes horribly wrong, amateur scientist and friends discover hidden depths to save world. It was predictable, with all the family-values schmaltz and barely disguised moralising that you have to expect from a kids' movie. But nevertheless it was fun, with lots of gags, silliness, and bits that fly over the heads of the kiddies in the audience while making the adults choke on their popcorn. All the nerds and geeks will feel their toes curl as they empathise with Flint (even while they shout at the screen about the dodgy science and how water doesn't have a "genetic code" - remember guys, it's a kids movie), and there are no prizes for identifying the charcter voiced by Mr T.

But the thing that is still bugging my brain today is one of the trailers, for a film version of Roald Dahl's Fantastic Mr Fox. There are many things you can say about Roald Dahl, but "his writing is really compatible with predictable Hollywood formula" is not one of them. He was a dark genius, and the glory of his writing is that it is often highly disturbing and that the "winner" is not necessarily "the good guy".

What I recall of the storyline of Fantastic Mr Fox is: a family of foxes who steal their food from nearby farmers find themselves in trouble, when the farmers decide they've had enough and start to take some extreme pest control measures. But with skill and daring, Mr Fox manages to not only evade the farmers, but finds a way to steal even more food than he was stealing before, enabling all the vermin in the surrounding area to "eat like kings" for the rest of their lives. With the notable exception of the Rat who lives in the cider cellar, who Mr Fox and Badger, big bullies that they are, threaten to eat if he attempts to stop them stealing the booze for their party.

Mr Fox is not and does not claim to be anything other than a thief. That the farmers are upset by the constant thefts from the businesses that are their livelihood is quite understandable. However the reader is encouraged to be firmly on the side of the criminals, and against the farmers who are protecting their property. Where's the moral? Who knows? It's quite likely there isn't one. Dahl never claimed to be guiding or educating children - in fact he quite liked the idea that he might be just a little bit corruptive, a little bit wicked.

However I can't see a celebration of breaking rules for purely personal gain cutting the mustard with a Hollywood focus group. There must have been changes, and big changes at that.

Which makes me wonder. Do I go and see it, because I am a Dahl fan and it is a film version of one of his books? Or do I avoid it like the plague, because I am a Dahl fan and I don't want to see his work smashed to pieces with a saccharine hammer?

Book Review

At the beginning of June, Tom Reynolds of Random Acts of Reality fame released his second book, More Blood, More Sweat and Another Cup of Tea (also known as BST2 for ease of tagging).

I eagerly ripped open the Amazon package, started reading, almost joined gentleman blogger extraordinaire Scaryduck in a typo-spotting spree, and announced my intention of doing a quick review just as soon as I got to the end...

... and suddenly lost more or less all of my ability with words. Seriously. In the last two months Steve's finished working, he's been off on holiday (biking/camping in Scotland), I've been off on holiday (back to Lowestoft to see friends and family), I've finished several knitting projects, I've enjoyed weekly excursions with my PA, been to a couple of parties and generally been living a pleasant and stimulating life, yet all I've managed to blog are a couple of half-baked rambles about my disability-enhanced shopping skillz0rs and a G1 app that I wish existed. I've also had difficulty reading, which is why it's taken me until now to finish BST2.

I'd be ashamed to admit that and probably would have brushed my intent to review under the carpet as "no longer relevant" if it wasn't for the fact that Tom is probably wondering why it has taken me so long to notice that he's been lovely enough to namecheck me in the acknowledgements as one of the regular commenters on his blog, and I'm therefore even more ashamed that I have not in fact been commenting at all since then.

Still. The book is now finished, and a review was promised, and so a review there shall be, half-baked ramble or otherwise.

The first thing about this book is that it's available for free online as well as for cash from Amazon and regular high-street bookshops. I quite like having a tangible copy, myself.

The second thing about this book is that it isn't really a "read it all in one go" kind of book - it's a series of self-contained blogpost-length entries with very little by way of continuity or story arcs. This makes it rubbish as a novel, but fantastic as a book for looking at for ten minutes at a time, while you wait for the bath to run or the oven to preheat. It would also be a good book for the bathroom (insert obligatory joke about soft pages) or to take on holiday, because it doesn't take an hour to "just finish the chapter" or "just see what happened to this person" while someone else is tapping their foot and waiting for you.

It is quite similar in many ways to the first book, as you would expect for an autobiographical account of the same job with the same company by the same person during the same decade. There is a slightly different feel to it though. The first book Tom was quite "angry young man", whereas in this one he seems more cynical, but also more stoical.

That said, if you haven't read the first book or the blog, then odds are you will start to get angry about some of the nonsense that Tom and his colleagues have to deal with day in, day out. I'm sure most of us could put forward a few stories about out-of-touch management, irrelevant targets, and clueless customers, but for most of us, there aren't lives hanging in the balance.

It's not all doom and despair, though. Tom's dry sense of humour provokes more than a few quiet chuckles, and there are plenty of positive encounters, often when least expected. So although you get caught up in the writing and grind your teeth about the morons with the inflated sense of entitlement, you also feel gratified when people's humanity shines through and absolutely jubilant when a life is saved.


Edited 12:08 12/07/09 to update link

Urrrrgh

I have Extra Lurgy. Yep, on top of the usual, I've caught one of the glorious bugs that are floating around at this time of year, and I'm feeling crap. Coughing, wheezing, feverish, glandular, snot-ridden Crap. The last couple of nights have been increasingly bad in terms of sweaty-shivering unpleasantness, and last night in particular was just short bursts of sleep in between painkillers and needing another drink of water.

Luckily (although I'm not sure that's precisely the word I'm looking for), it's the weekend, so I'm able to be mostly in bed. I have a good supply of various strengths of painkillers (advantage to chronic illness), I have plenty of Strepsils, I have some Olbas Oil and I have a couple of boxes of tissues. I also have a Steve, who is slightly concerned and fussing a little - but mostly in terms of running me a bath and making me cups of tea, which, you know, I'm really not complaining about.

What is worrying me is tomorrow, when I am supposed to be at work for four hours. Usually when I've been bug-ill on top of everyday-ill, it's been a case of curling up in bed until it's gone. Now I'm working, that's not an option.

I really, desperately don't want to take time off sick.
I really, desperately don't want to make myself iller again in the long-term sense by not allowing myself a chance to recover from this virus (that's the most likely thing that made me long-term ill in the first place).

I don't want to let down the people I work with by being unavailable at the busiest time of year, making them do my share of the work.
But I also don't want to turn up at the shop, do half an hour's working, then pass out, and make people not only have to do my share of the work, but also make them have to spend time fussing over me, making sure I get home safely, writing it in an incident book and god knows what else.

Hopefully I will have intensive rest today, a much better night tonight, and feel better enough in the morning that I can dose up at lunchtime, go to work and just say "look, I'm going to have to be a bit careful today," but still be more or less functional for those four hours.

----------------------------------------------

In other news, Reynolds at Random Acts Of Reality is having a competition to win some books. I've had no ideas as yet.

Cooking

I got myself a new cookery book the other day. It's called Just like mother used to make and it's by a guy called Tom Norrington-Davies. On the back are a couple of quotes from reviews, and the one from The Times says that "the recipes are simple to follow and comfortingly delicious to eat." Marvellous, thunked Mary. This is the book I need.

Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear.

I should have looked at the name, really. This book is written by a man, who has access to many varied London shops, and above all, can afford a dishwasher. This is speculation, of course, but if he washes all his own dishes I will be very surprised.

I'm on page 82 now and I am stunned with the amount of faffery this guy suggests. It's the sort of cooking that's probably fun a couple of times a week if you're the sort of person who enjoys cooking and gets a kick out of accomplishing a meal (and you have a dishwasher).

A particular area where Tom and I have fallen out is over the issue of soup. He describes several "comfort soups" which according to him are "low maintenance" and "great food for those times when we are under the weather." Under the weather, that's me, let's take a look. Tomato soup, great.

First, he wants me to peel and chop onions, garlic (actually this should be "bruised" whatever the hell that means), a leek, and some carrots. Washing-up count so far, at least one sharp knife and chopping board, and a bowl to put the chopped veg in, plus it's taken me four hours due to keeping needing to sit down, the odds are I've cut my fingers, and we've not even got to the recipe instructions yet. You're then meant to stand at the cooker for ten minutes "keeping an eye on" the veg while they sweat in a little oil in a covered saucepan (washing-up count: saucepan, lid, wooden spoon). Next, we add some sugar and some tinned tomatoes (tinned? Tom, I'm shocked, you mean I don't have to grow them myself?), whack the heat up, and stand at the cooker for at least five minutes, "stirring constantly". Add some water (he prefers stock but he can stick that up his jumper) and allow to simmer, uncovered, for about an hour, because I always wanted to turn my flat into a tomato-scented sauna. Finally, we chuck it through the blender (washing up count: one blender which he doesn't tell you must be washed before the soup sets on the blades - handwashing blenders is Not Good) and add milk, salt and faff to taste. Serve (washing up count: bowl, spoon, and he also wants nice fresh bread but we're just not going to go there).

Total washing-up: two bowls, one spoon, one wooden spoon, blender, saucepan and lid, sharp knife(s), chopping board(s), and I bet the work surfaces and cooker hob got splattered too.

Tom. Mate. If you ever feel really under the weather, here's what you do.

Get the bowl you intend to eat from, the spoon you intend to eat with, a tin-opener (I know you have one because of those tinned tomatoes) and a can of Heinz Cream of Tomato soup. Open the can and empty it into the bowl. Put the bowl into the microwave and nuke it for one minute. During this minute, assuming you recycle, peel the label off the can and rinse the can under the tap before chucking it in the appropriate bin. Rinse the tin-opener too and leave it on the draining board to air-dry. Get the soup from the microwave, stir it with the spoon, and then put it back in for another minute. Have a little sit-down. The microwave will beep but don't get excited, just in your own time get up and get the soup. The bowl will be hot, be careful. Give it another stir and eat. If it makes you feel better you can put a sprig of freshly plucked basil on top, or an artistic little swirl of cream.

Total washing-up: one bowl, one spoon.

I'm not even going to talk about what he expects me to do about mashed potatoes. Still, I have another 106 pages to read and hopefully there will be some genuinely simple and easy thing that I can serve up with microwave mash and instant gravy.

I don't want to be a domestic goddess, I just want simple easy food!

Internet Addiction?

On May 9th I mentioned a number of half-written posts I had and asked which ones I should make into full posts. The answer seemed to be "all of them, why not?" so here's the first. I'm not entirely happy with it, but it's the most complete one of the lot, and I'm not having a great time for concentration at the moment so bah, it'll do.


While aimlessly reading through the BBC Magazine Monitor's "100 things we didn't know last year", I came across this article.

Apparently more than one in eight adults in the (US) study were internet addicts. Signs of addiction include:
- Finding it hard to stay away from the Internet for several days at a time
- Often staying online longer than intended
- Having seen a need "at some point" to cut down on Internet use
- Attempting to conceal Internet use
- Using the Internet to escape problems or "relieve negative mood"
- Relationships suffering from excessive Internet use

Lists like this cover most forms of addiction. Just read the list above substituting "alcohol" or "heroin" or "gambling" or "bingeing on chocolate" for "Internet".

For the record, I freely admit to finding it hard to stay away from the internet for more than a day or two, and I come online to "relieve negative mood" - it's something I enjoy doing, in the same way as I enjoy a nice bath, or a cuppa with a friend. I'm "online" most of the time, most days, but while the computer and msn and so on are "online" I'm quite probably curled up on the sofa snoozing, or filling out a form, or tidying up around the flat. I do my computer-stuff in many short bursts rather than one long stint. I've never tried to conceal my usage, and I'm pretty certain my relationships haven't suffered - quite the opposite! I'm hazy on the idea of "non-essential use". If I order groceries online because it's easier for me than going to a shop, is that essential or not? If Steve plays an online game for half an hour to relax after a crappy day at work, is his relaxation essential? Is reading the news essential? Is contact with long-distance relatives essential?

Even if we get an idea of what is essential use and what is non-essential, but reasonable use, we then still end up on the same old cycle of trying to figure out at which point the use is defined as an addiction. Where's the line that makes it a problem, or possibly even a pathology?

It may partly depend on what the activity is. I know many people who like to read books. They wouldn't want to spend several days without reading a book. They become immersed in a book at bedtime and then realise it's 4am and they've been reading much longer than intended. They have realised they have more books than shelf-space and decided to get rid of a few. They read books to "escape from reality" or because it relaxes them, or cheers them up. But no one would dream of telling them they are addicts, or that they have a problem, or that they must empty their houses of books and from now on they can only read road signs. You just don't do that with Reading Books. Is it reasonable to do it with Using the Internet? Writing diaries is another one. If Samuel Pepys was alive today and writing his memoirs in daily blog form, would he be castigated as an internet addict with "compulsive behaviour issues" as these researchers put it?

It also depends to what extent the activity is taken. For instance, it is normal, even desirable behaviour to keep one's home clean. I also know people who like to take pride in keeping their houses neat and clean. Rather than "oh no, housework, it's got to be done but I wish I didn't have to do it," they actually quite enjoy tidying a room, putting things in the proper places, polishing the surfaces, fluffing the cushions and looking at the results with a sense of deep satisfaction. Then there are those who feel distinctly uncomfortable in an untidy room - people who come to your house for a cup of tea and can't help themselves from lining up your remote controls in order of size on the coffee table, or even say "I'll just rinse my cup out," and then start washing up your breakfast things from that morning. And then there are those who compulsively and constantly deep-clean everything. A friend of mine got burns on her legs at someone's house because she hadn't been warned to wipe the bleach off the toilet seat before sitting down - the householder in question reapplied the bleach several times a day. Few people would argue a statement that this last example shows signs of a problem. But at which point along the spectrum does the "problem" status apply?

I think perhaps the line between a hobby or interest, and an addiction, is when it has a real impact on other people. I'm having trouble imagining someone shoplifting their food and mugging people so that they can pay their line rental or get another couple of gig of bandwidth... but I can, for instance, imagine a child with a full nappy and an empty bottle sticking their fingers in sockets while their parent is at the other end of the house having "just one more f5", so maybe internet addiction isn't such an outlandish concept.

Hopefully someone will prod me before I get too sucked in.

Still Here

My levels of energy, pain and ability to concentrate have been all over the place the last few days and I don't know if I'm coming or going half the time. However, I am happy to announce that the knitting continues to go well. Having finished the scarf for Dominocat, I started looking for another project. A look for basic knitting patterns or learner's patterns online revealed that I could (a) make another 6ft of garter-stitch scarf or (b) attempt to decipher a "pattern" which looked like someone had randomly squashed their hand onto their keyboard, and after decipheration, involved such voodoo concepts as "cabling" and "ribbing" which I have no concept of.

This led to a bit of "oh my god, I'll never be able to do this..." but that was over pretty quickly as with the help of the lovely Jiva, I determined my plan of action thusly:
(a) get a book about learning to knit, and follow its handy instructions bit by bit until on top of basic stitches.
and
(b) cast on another scarf with some wool I already had, to give me something to work on and that I would be able to pick up and know I could do it easily, even when frustrated at the learning-bits going difficult-ly.

(forgive my vocabulary today. It's all there somewhere.)

So, I'm working on it, I have nailed garter stitch aka knit stitch, and also purling, and also stocking stitch where you knit stitch a row and then purl stitch a row. Next in my handy book is increasing and decreasing the number of stitches on a row, which should be entertaining. And then that's it for the book.

God knows what happens next.

Activity, cost, and Spoon Theory

One of the trickiest things to keep on top of is calculating the costs of each activity I do, prioritising the activity, and figuring out if I can do it or not.

The beginning and end of the spectrum is easy. There is "rest", which is lying down or sitting very comfortably, in a warm, safe and quiet place, with my eyes shut and no distractions. It may or may not involve actually falling asleep, but the important aspect is making the time as uneventful as possible for both my brain and my body. Rest helps me slowly gain some energy.

At the other end is "impossible activity". A few years ago it was perfectly feasible for me to rollerblade along the seafront with an ice-cream in one hand and be chatting on my mobile phone in the other. These days, I simply do not have the capacity to do that, which is something I've come to terms with. It was fun, but hardly a life skill.

The bits between "rest" and "impossible" are tricky though, and they vary for every person with ME/CFS and similar illnesses. For everything I do, I have to think about how much it will cost me, and whether that will prevent me from doing something else that may be more important or more enjoyable.

Let's take reading as an example. I've enjoyed reading from a very early age and it used to be one of my top things to do to relax. Now I can't read any whole book at one sitting any more, fair enough, but there's more to it than that. These days, reading isn't just reading.
Low-cost: Reading a book from my personal collection which I have read many, many times before.
Medium-cost: Reading a book I have not read before, but by an author I am familiar with and whose style of writing flows well for me.
High-cost: Reading a book by an author who is new to me.
Near-impossible: Reading a non-fiction book which requires the reader to keep up with concepts that may be new to them. For instance, I've had The Science Of Discworld for about a year and I am still less than halfway through it.

The same sort of thing applies to everything I do during a day, fun or not, essential or not, productive or not. It applies to getting up and having a bath and getting dressed and washing my dishes and buying a pint of milk, and it also applies to knitting, using the computer, shopping (yes, even online), watching a TV programme, cooking, seeing friends, chatting on the phone or playing a game.

Some people have the idea that anyone who is off work long-term must be sitting around all day doing the sort of thing they would love to do if only they weren't at work. It's not the case. Not only would I need to be having a good day to attempt half the "day off" things I used to, but as soon as we've factored in stuff like housework, forms for several different benefits, and family commitments, it's an almighty mess.

The best explanation I have ever encountered for this is Spoon Theory. I really recomend you click that link, but if you don't want to, here's the summary:

People with illnesses like mine start each day with a limited number of energy credits, represented by a handful of spoons. Some days it's a good day and you have more spoons than usual (although still not as many as a healthy person might) and some days it's a bad day and you've only got half the spoons you're used to having. Doing things costs you spoons. Resting may make you a spoon or two if you're lucky, but it's not guaranteed. If you spend all your spoons by lunchtime then that's just tough if there's something else you want or need to do later in the day.

Physically do this. Get your handful of spoons (or pens, or knitting needles, or whatever - just one handful though!) and go through your day. Waking up and forcing yourself out of bed? Spoon. Having a bath? Spoon. Washing your hair as well? Another spoon. Getting dressed? Spoon.

Of course, this is what happens to healthy people when they get a bad cold or something. They drag themselves into work wearing an unironed shirt and brushed but not styled hair, get frustrated because they can see that they are performing at a level of less than 100% and are making mistakes, go home, and collapse into bed with a cup of lemsip and some takeaway food. And that's okay, because for a week while you have a cold, you can let things slide - the washing up doesn't HAVE to all be done every day, you can catch up on the laundry when you feel a bit better, your friends will understand that you've had to cancel on a planned get-together, you'll absorb the £5 charge for late payment of a bill in order to not have to worry about getting to the bank this week.

Chronic illness is different. You can't simply skip the vacuuming for three years. Your friends will stop inviting and including you if you never join in, and as a human being you need some social contact. The clean clothes in your wardrobe will all be used up after a few weeks. If you don't get yourself into town, go to the bank and pay your bills, you go past Final Demands and bank charges and into the realms of baliffs at the door. You have to stay on top of everything that needs doing.

So you have to get on, and calculate every activity every day. You have to balance and you have to decide if the fact you have no fresh clothes to wear is more or less important than the fact your cups and dishes have almost invented the wheel. You have to decide whether to read a few pages of a new, interesting book, or to read a familiar book and thus be able to chat to someone on the phone for 15 minutes. You have to be able to tell your friends that you don't have the time or energy to see them, because you've got to use all of that day's spoons on eating three basic meals and filling in a couple more pages on a poxy horrible benefits form.

I can deal with the pain, and I can deal with injuring myself when I fall over, and I can deal with the poor sleep and nausea and fits and all these physical things. But I have real trouble keeping positive while dealing with the constant comparing and choosing and juggling and never being able to forget for even a day about being ill.

And THEN some bugger tells you that you'd feel ever so much better if you just went jogging for an hour each morning... I think that's another post though.