New Experiences

Last week, Him Indoors convinced me to do something I had never done before.

No, not that you dirty muppets.

Go camping!

Now I've never been camping. The Mothership likes her home comforts shall we say. This woman's holiday is not completed until she has completed cleaned the apartment we're staying in and has bought in a month's supply of Mr Sheen (when we're only going on holiday for a week). Funnily enough, camping was not on the agenda. There are some childhood holidays in caravans that I remember but they were done through gritted teeth. Canvas was not a holiday option.

One major reason I dislike the idea of festivals is the camping and potential shared toilet facilities. I like my own toilet. I like having toilet paper available. I like washing my hands in my scented soap and drying them on a nice fluffy towel. Recently I was horrifed to learn that T in the Park does not have showers. Is this true? Can anyone confirm this either way?

However, Him Indoors loves camping and has been away with quite a few friends. I comprised and said we would go camping on a proper campsite with proper toilets. No shitting in the woods for me. He said yes. We would go camping for two days, stay with relatives for another two and spend the rest of the week in Aberdeen. The relatives stay in a village that boasts one primary school, one church, one Spar and two coffee shops all on the same street. So I was going through the stages of gradual urbanisation last week. I've lived in the city all my life. The closest I get to the countryside is getting the train to East Kilbride.

So, yes, we went camping. It rained. We even got hailstones. One night we couldn't set up the stove to make a cup of tea. It was freezing at night. Our sleeping mats were just a little bit thicker than paper. The second night, a group pitched up next to us and didn't go to bed until 1am. It rained.

But, in a way, I enjoyed the experience. The night the sun stayed out and we cooked our instant noodles. The walk we went up the cliff and discovered an abandoned church and graveyard. Watching the tide come in. Tis was nice.

Now we're toying with hiring a VW Campervan for our next venture. The freedom of camping appealed to me. I met one woman on the campsite, part of a retired couple, who were touring the National Trust of Scotland sites. Weirdly it turned out she had grown up around the corner from where I live in Glasgow. It truly shows how small a world we live in (or you can never go far without meeting someone who lives in sunny Glasgow). I envied her freedom a bit. You could spend one day travelling to another area of the country. And the drive up to the campsite on the east coast was wonderful. Both Him Indoors and I remarked that we forget what a beautiful country we live in. And how easily we forget this living in the city.

Another aspect of this holiday made me realise how bored I'm getting of Glasgow. It is highly likely that I'll have to move out of Glasgow once I qualify as an archivist next year. Initially I was relcutant to do so. I've always lived in Glasgow, my family are here, my friends and most of my social calendar. The thought of moving away did not appeal.

But this holiday made me realise there is a big world out there. In my 24 years I have not travelled very far. Most of my work colleagues have lived in various areas due to university or college commitments. Some of them call Glasgow home for the moment, some hope to return elsewhere when they finish their training.

But yes, I would like to try living in another city in the next couple of years. And who knows, by that time I might be able to drive that VW Campervan as well.

Swine/Pig/Talking out the hole of yer arse Flu

I, for one, have been getting peed off with the latest disease outbreak. The news is whipping everyone into a frenzy over something that wouldn't have turned heads if it was merely another bout of run-of-the-mill-flu. And this is coming from someone who lives with a reasonably radius of where the first cases were confirmed in the UK.

The situation was made even more ridiculous by the BBC News (shame on them for adding to this fire). In passing I caught a section of the six o'clock news in which they were interviewing a potential pig flu sufferer. Via a fucking mobile phone and filming him leaning out his window. That's not going to fuel panic is it?

Not belittling people who have died but 149152 people have died in Mexico. Out of an estimated population of 103 million. Plus only 20 of these 152 deaths have been confirmed swine flu cases. In 2007, 2.1 million people died from AIDs. Currently, 33.2million people are living with the condition. Remember the mass panic about AIDs?

Clicky here to see what I mean.

Of course, I could post next week saying I was all wrong and I'm watching Survivors for tips.

Welcome to the real world. It sucks!

Holy beejesus, where did the last two months ago? One reason behind my silence was Him Indoors has not been in terribly good health and was admitted to hospital. It almost got to the stage we were considering having his post forwarded to the ward he was on. I went through a reading slump and knew that did not bode well. Some people stop eating when they're stressed out or each too much. Me? I stop reading. This problem has been resolved but it depressed me when I realised I had been reading the same book for two months.

Other news, my journey towards becoming an archivist reached another level (not as exciting as it sounds). I was awarded a place on the course, on the spot. My interview was on my birthday so that was a nice present. Then I went to have lunch with the Mothership and drank a lot of wine. Father turned up with a birthday cake and pretended to be a jakey looking for spare change when I buzzed him into the flat. And now I'm edging towards my quarter life crisis faster than I would like.

There might be some writing in the pipeline. Proper writing with characters and shitz. Got some ideas whizzing about the old grey matter. The thing is, some stuff I produced was pretty good (if I say so myself). And now I'm scared I've lost that talent. Shall keep you posted.

Sunday Salon: A Break

Don't worry, the break refers to my pile of work due in next week. On Thursday it was landed upon us trainees we were having mock interviews on Monday. A list of potential questions were emailed to us to prepare answers for. Thursday was a very busy day at work and Friday is...well....Friday so I only sat down to look at them properly yesterday. I've Googled Freedom of Information and Data Protection Acts and I feel my brain slowing oozing out my head.

So, onto the books!

The first fail of 2009: Twilight by Stephanie Meyers.

I know I am not the target audience for this book. In fact, I don't like to admit how many difference in age there is between me and the target audience. The style of writing reminds me very much of Point Horrors which I enjoyed reading ages 10-14. Trouble is, I'm not that age anymore. The drama of high school is something I find so amusing. It's bad enough without having vegetarian vampires floating around the corridors. And people have to remember: you can make it out alive.

4) The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenerger

My book group has been pushed back to this Thursday so I don't have many comments to blog from that. I may wait to see what others thought before I blog. But, for record keeping purposes, I will still add it to my books read this week. A future attraction, coming soon.

5) The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and other short stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald (in progress)

I remember reading The Great Gatsby when I was a teenager and not being very impressed. But then again, who is impressed when they're a teenager? The point of referring to this work is that it may have influenced my reading of this short story.

So far I have only read The Curious Case of Benjamin Button in this collection. It was a strange little tale with more than a hint of satire. The story is that Benjamin is born an old man. Literally an old man. As he ages chronologically, his body and mind regress. At the age of 18 he looks 50 and is run out of town for trying to register for university. The story does speak of expectations (Benjamin's father insists his son should dye his hair to look younger) and clearly delivers the message of the importance of physical appearance. Which ties in with part of the ideology of the 1920s.

It's an interesting tale and the writing style feels very too the point. This contrasted with my previous read, The Time Traveler's Wife which reveals in the beauty of the written language. The imagery at the end of the story does add a tint of sadness but creates a wonderful picture in the reader's mind. I won't spoil the ending but I highly doubt anyone who reads the story will be surprised by the ending.

Twilight and the shock of going back to work after the festive period has taken up more time than I would like this week. I am aiming to get more reading done next week so fingers crossed that happens.

This morning I did pick up Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell. It looks a worthy tome and I'm hoping it provides a building block to meatier reads such as Les Miserables and War and Peace. So far I'm on page 10 and have been slightly shocked with the scattered racist terms such as "darkie". Though the same thing happened when I read Uncle Tom's Cabin so I shouldn't be too surprised.

Sunday Salon: We're going to party like it's 2009....oh

Isn't insomnia both a blessing and a curse? The curse is that I have been walking around like a zombie for most of today. The blessing is that I managed to keep one of my new year resolutions which is to update the Sunday Salon as much as a can. So far, in 2009 I have read two books. However, they are a slight cheat because both were started in 2008. Last week in fact. So let's see if I can make sense of notes I scribbled down at 5am this morning.

1) Tis by Frank McCourt

As I mentioned a few posts ago, I read Angela's Ashes when I was ill with a heavy cold a few weeks ago. This lead me to re-read Tis which follows Frank as he travels to America and tries to pursue his dreams of becoming a teacher, despite his own lack of education. In some ways I feel this book embodies part of the American Dream. Frank comes to America, works where he can and attends college at nights and at the weekends so he can become a teacher. Immigrant makes good. As he admits in some pages, he views his Protestant wife from New England as a ticket into this world of good teeth, hot water and education.

McCourt is very self-aware about almost everything: his bad teeth, Irish accent, bad eyes and guilt over things he has no control over. He makes so many attempts to get away from being Irish but this is like Gordon Brown trying to get away from being Scottish. It's impossible. He seems unsure of himself and his ability to teach. At one stage it appears he has gained enough confidence to be a teacher, confident in his abilities. Then his students discover his own lack of a high school education and this facade crumbles down. Instead of demonstrating to the kids how much education matters, he falters.

I have got Teacher Man, McCourt's book about his teaching experiences, lying around somewhere in the Mountain Range. His teaching stories are hilarious, if a tad repetitive but perhaps this is what he's trying to achieve, and do show that, regardless of the social status of the catchment area, you are always going to get kids who hate reading Shakespeare.

2) Beyond the Narrow Gate by Leslie Change

Again, this is a bit of a cheat because I started this book in 2008 and only finished it this morning. And it is another cheat because I have written about it on this blog. But let's see if the 4am thoughts bring anything new to this book.

Chang is conducting a mircostudy into the lives of four Chinese women who emigrated to America in the 1950s. The connection between these four women is that they all attended a high school in Taiwan. Other relationships become clear such as some individuals who sit uncomfortable between East and West. Chang cites a term attached to this generation of Chinese immigrants - the bamboo generation. They appear strong and supple but are hollow inside. This is certainly true of these four women. None of them seem content inside. Chang's mother, one of the four women, rarely seems satisfied and is always pushing herself to perform better at work. And frequently puts her work before her family. Leslie herself refuses to learn any form of the Chinese language. In the final chapter she admits she can never order her favourite meals in a Chinese restaurant because her parents have always done so for her.

All in all, not a bad read but it did take me a while to get into it. Sometimes I'd want to put the book down after four pages but I pushed with it. This morning I was surprised when I hit the last page in what seemed like no time at all.

And what's next? Well, my book group is discussing one of my favourite books of all time The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenerger. At 5.30am I had finished Beyond the Narrow Gate and had started on The Time Traveler's Wife. Now I'm at least a good quarter of the way through the book.

Other books on my bedside table include:
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and other stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Twilight by Stephanie Meyer

So, here's to a good year of reading. My goals (reading wise) this year include:
*Keeping a list of books I've read
*Try to read more books than I did in 2008 (aprox. number read last year is around 60)
*Write my thoughts in my paper journal or, at the very least, make notes

These goals might be added to as time goes on!

American Man with an Opinion

I always seem to attract people who like to talk. Maybe I have one of those faces. Once I spent three hours chatting with an Israeli tourist in a Pret A Manger in Glasgow about, well, nothing in particular.

On Friday I was meeting a friend at the bus station. It being the first 'business as normal day' post-New Year the place was mobbed and full of people either returning to Glasgow after the festive period or getting the hell out of this crazy city. I managed to find an empty bench and a few seconds later an elderly gent sat next to me. Elderly, I'd say he was in his early sixties. We got chit chatting and he asked me what I was doing at the bus station. I explained I was waiting for a friend and we were going to the cinema to see The Reader. For those that don't know, part of the plot is concerned with war crimes in World War II.

The gent nodded and said "You know, people talk about war crimes as if they never happen anymore. But what is going on in Gaza at the moment...to me that's a war crime. And on both sides may I add. Hamas ain't innocent but the Israelis are just as bad."

War crimes are the de jour phrase at the moment. This morning I read in the paper that a Rwandian singer called Simon Bikindi was sentenced to 15 years in prison for using his music to incite violence during that fateful time in 1994. Not a politician, not a member of the military. A mere singer. Could the actions of Robert Mugabe be classed as war crimes? He seems locked in conflict with his own people, officials from neighbour states, the United Nations and just about anyone else who disagrees with the suffering and pain he is inflicting on his country.

I am not even going to pretend I know enough about the Middle East situation to comment. All I shall say is that it is ordinary people that are getting hurt, being killed. And surely that makes it a war crime and, if it doesn't sound too pompous, a crime against humanity.

Last Post of 2008

I hope you all had a good Christmas/winter festival/Cuthbert day this week. Failing that, I hope you had a good week. Alas, I had to work on Christmas Eve which was a weird occurrence. My previous jobs have been connected to retail so Christmas Eve has usually been busyish. In the end we did end up getting away 90 minutes early so all was not lost. Oh and we had cakes at the morning tea break which lasted for an hour. Huzzah!

Due to being ill last week I was rather behind in Christmas preparations so this week was rather quiet on the book reading front. I did continue with Hogfather but it doesn't seem to be doing it for me. Many of my friends adore Terry Prachett but his writing seems to leave me a little cold. I do marvel at the amount of books he can churn out (in my copy of Hogfather his biblography covers two pages - and is presented in small print) but Discworld does not do it for me. However 2008 was the year of tackling books I had previously abandoned so perhaps 2009 will continue in the same vein.

The Boyfriend bought me three books for Christmas this year:
La's Orchestra Saves the World by Alexander McCall Smith
Watchmen by Alan Moore (influenced by Justanothersheeldz)
Tales of Beedle the Bard by J.K. Rowling

which I have managed to keep my mucky paws off this week. The Mothership got me a grammar book to help with my Latin which was muchly appreciated.

Since Christmas Day I have existed in a waste-of-space continum and have alternated reading books on the comfy sofa, reading books in the bath and in my bed. Notice a pattern developing here? I picked up a bookring that has been kicking me for the past few weeks (i.e. get a bloody move on!) called Beyond the Narrow Gate by Leslie Chang. Leslie's parents are Chinese but emigrated to America in the 1950s. Leslie appears to have a distant relationship with her mother and explores this relationship by examining the lives of three of her mother's schoolfriends. All four women went to a school in Taiwan after fleeing from Chairman Mao in various capacities. Leslie's mother, who Anglicised her name to Mary, fled because her father was part of the Old Regime's army. I am enjoying this book but it does repeat itself an awful lot. For the third time I am told Mary did not excel at school or that one of her schoolmates was the daughter of a government official. Perhaps this serves to reinforce the links these women have but the repetition is getting on my bloody nerves. It's still a good read though and provides an insight into the Chinese immigrant population in America post-1950s.

My, now rather soggy, bath book is The Sisterhood by Emily Barr. I love Emily Barr for writing such dark chick lit. Her characters always seem to err on the unhinged and rarely are any of them likeable. The Sisterhood follows three women: Liz, Mary and Helen. Liz is a women in her late thirties who discovers her partner of ten years is having an affair. One night stand later Liz is pregnant and facing bringing up a baby on her own. This raises some confusing emotions because Liz was abandoned by her mother as a baby. Helen is a girl in her late teens who lives in France. Snooping through her mother's things one day she discovers her mother, Mary, had been married before. And had a baby called Elizabeth. It wouldn't be dramatic if Helen decided to track Liz down in an attempt to turn her family into a perfect one. You just know this book isn't going to end well. I picked it up a few days ago and have been racing through it. A very good holiday read and with a decent plot that keeps you gripped. Despite the (intentionally) weak and unlikebale characters, I still want to keep reading, find out more and the resulting conclusion when Helen's motives become clear to Liz. If you like your chick lit with a bit of bite then Emily Barr is yer woman. I thoroughly reccomend Baggage and Atlantic Shift as well.

Before I sign off, I must say I've really enjoyed sitting down the past couple of Sundays with a cup of coffee and hammered out my thoughts on books. So part of my New Year's Resolutions is to try and keep this blog more up to date. The Boyfriend's mother gave me some lovely paper notebooks for Christmas and I am determined to record my thoughts about books in a more coherant manner. Better than "This book wuz guid. Read it." Every year I try to keep a list of books I've read but usually I fail. Plus I don't start my new course until September (and possibly have a spell of unemployment between finishing work and starting the course) so that should leave more time for reading. And all other manner of self improvement.