changeling67: (Default)
Quite cross, as I posted this in LiveJournal, only for it to refuse to post.  Hence the posting from Dreamwidth, which doesn't seem to like picture being loaded. Bottom line was that I have been able to pass my lesson two test and am on lesson three. Didn't score as well the first time round; first rule of a proofreading course is to READ THE QUESTIONS and realise that some of these questions have two marks because there are two answers rather than one. Lesson learnt.

What's the weather like where you are? It's hovering on -1c here (far south west UK), but has been colder at night and we've had ice right up to the back door. The Cornish are more used to horrendous gales and losing part, if not all, of their roof. Or in our case, a three foot chimney post crashing through the flat roof of our kitchen, or in one case, a 4x3ft piece of ceiling that dropped on my late father's side of the bed during a blackout.  He sat up, because he felt a sandy substance pour into his ear, then WHOOMPH - chaos. Over the last decade or so, we have seen less gales and more crispy morning and courtesy of 2018s 'Beast From the East', a few more instances of snow. We've had more flooding, too - possibly from the fact a lot of farm land has been sold on to housing developers.

Anyway, it's onwards with lesson 3 which is a 29 page document.  I will divide it into two documents, so I can staple the leaves together.  I will skim read most of it tonight and then put in the hours over the next few days.

changeling67: (pic#10889158)
 

Come, come a little bit closer
So I can see what you have done

I said come, come a little bit closer
Let me get a look at you

Don’t you know you want it too?
I said do, do I make you uneasy?
I bet you’d like to take a step back
I said do, do I make you uneasy?

I’ll follow even if you look back
Don’t you know you want it too?
Don’t you know you want it too?

Come a little bit closer…
Come a little bit closer…





 

Certifiable

Oct. 2nd, 2019 08:39 pm
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Image result for food standards certificate


I have spend most of this evening trying to complete my Food Standards Agency cert (which I should have done back in July, but didn't have the time or inclination to do).  I knew the basics, like storage, cross contamination etc - but wow, talk about an introduction as to how to poison members of the public.  I am on unit five of seven and I will complete tomorrow, as the deadline finishes on October 7th.  At least three out of the next five days will be on the road, so I had best look busy - choppy chop (but use a separate knife to reduce risk of contamination haw haw haw).
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No photo description available.

I don't post here often - hell, I barely track my LJ page, just load a bunch of amusing and beautiful things into the preloader and sit back for a week or three.  It's my way of saying "I'm still here, I'm still alive", but with minimum effort.  Some know I am down here, but most not - it is like I am further down the rabbit hole, which in some respects, is fine by me.  Hidden in plain sight etc.

I need a reason to stay here, or it will return to being a repository of LJ entries when the site is down.  Maybe I will post less crap and ponder more - who knows?

Here is a picture of a rainbow kitchen window.  Have a nice day :-)


 
 
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Mr Gaiman looking quite a fox in this photo. I have seen a few pix where he has seemed the wrong side of seedy and distinctly unwashed - this photo makes a pleasent change. His appearance never detracts from his wonderful writing.  Full The Guardian article under the cut.
 
The delights of being terrified ... Neil Gaiman.

                                    The delights of being terrified ... Neil Gaiman. Photograph: Tim Knox for the Guardian

O
nce, during an on stage discussion of the type literary festivals go in for, I frightened Neil Gaiman by channelling the voice of the Wicked Witch of the West from the film The Wizard of Oz. “And your little dog, too!” I cackled. “No! No! Don’t do that!” cried Neil. He then explained that he had been petrified by this green-tinted witch as an eight-year-old. Behold: a literary influence had been discovered!

The best children’s writers are, somewhere deep in their psyches, still eight years old. They know what is scary. They remember what it was like to have your hand plunged into a Halloween bowl of peeled grapes in a darkened room, having been told they were eyeballs. They relish the delights of being terrified in song and story. They understand the benefits of imaginary horror: yes, this is frightening, but ultimately it can be dealt with, at least in fictional form.

Gaiman brought himself up right. He read a great many books proper to his future calling, and absorbed their memes and lessons. When advised to direct his feet to the sunny side of the street, he did – he does not write tragedies – but he also directed them to the shadow side; for, as Ursula K Le Guin so memorably put it: “Only in silence the word, / Only in dark the light, / Only in dying life: / Bright the hawk’s flight / On the empty sky.” Or as Beatrix Potter demonstrated, no fun robbing the radishes from Mr McGregor’s garden unless the rabbit-pie dish hovers as a threat. What’s the point of being “Alive, alive, oh” unless you also risk being dead as a doorknob? (Though we must reserve judgment about those doorknobs, in view of A Christmas Carol.)

More of The Guardian article HERE

POSTED VIA DREAMWIDTH AS LIVE JOURNAL WAS THROWING A HISSY FIT !!
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It's been a week since I walked away from the agency and now I am unemployed.  I do not regret the walking away, but I am finding it hard to get work.  Any work.  It appears that securing permanent work is a luxuary or even a super power down in the sticks.  I have a small amount of retail experience in an electrical wholesaler and then a general store, but not enough (it seems) to secure a shop job anywhere.  It is also nearly a year since I got my results back for my final BA award; a very tidy 2:i, but since I have not been able to secure employment that reflects this, or indeed, very patchy employment all round, I tend to feel that the five years study was a Pointless Intellectual Exercise.  It just feels like I have a huge student loan bill just to chase down some ghosts and lay them to rest.  I know I need to turn this around, but the truth is that the only time I felt vindication was briefly after I had handed the major dissertation in and I had a cup of coffee on top of the Roland Levinksy building.  I didn't feel joy or validation when I got my results (my beloved cat had just died) and I certainly felt hollow when I got my scroll.  A very necessary rite of passage, but it felt like 30 years too late.

The thing is, since the end of my degree, I have barely read anything.  Not even a magazine, chic lit - anything.  Also, since the creative writing module, I have not written a thing.  Throughout the course, my English became progressively better, but my creative streak has run dry.  I was talking to an old friend of mine today, who has known me since we were teenagers together in that God forsaken hole that was our secondary school.  She wrote the following words:

"I can't imagine that anything you write would not be good, you were made for it."

Any old friend could have written that, but she is a woman who is blisteringly truthful and would tell me if she thought my writing was crap.  i told her it was courage, not to mention inspiration that I lacked.  She told me not to be so bloody stupid and just get on with it.  I had also said that I am trying to find a job, because waxing lyrical won't put bread on the table etc.  She said to keep on looking, but meanwhile - GET WRITING!!!

I need reminding to do just this, so this is the reason that I am going to pin this to the top of my journal.  It is not only for me, but any other like-minded individuals who have lost their creative way.
changeling67: (Default)
 

Problems posting on LiveJournal - for some reason, the buttons have been whitened out.  This has been going on for a couple of days.  It clears briefly, then reverts to farting about.


 
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 No automatic alt text available.

 
I am pleased to say that I am very much better - thank you all who sent messages for me to get well.  I am walking without crutches now and next week, I am hoping to drive again (us Brits use stick shift cars, so I need my left foot for the gear change).  The bacterial infection has gone, fingers crossed and I feel that I am back on the path to normal living.

I have just received my final mark back from my satire essay on 'Nightmare Abbey,' only to find that I have got 65% for it and the module earned me over 64%.  I am stunned - falling down concrete steps must have sharpened my wits! Hubby (who is the number cruncher of the family) has calculated that my overall mark for the entire degree is 64.74%, which is a decent 2:1 award.  Obviously, the final year's marks have to go out to be externally marked, so I cannot celebrate until July 14th.  

Still - thrilled :-)
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Two weeks post my accident and I am feeling fairly ok.  I can just about make it downstairs without crutches and limp around the house unaided.  The swelling in my ankle has gone down a bit and the bruising is finally coming out.  Outside terrain is a bit dodgy, so I still need assistance, but on the whole, I think I am improving. The temperature has dropped and it is not so humid, though I have had to take a migraleive as I have a heavy duty sucker of a migraine that is trying to show up for the second day on the trot.  Think it's because the light reflected off of the clouds makes it very bright out there at the moment - brighter than if it was mere sunshine.

 
Instead of feeling crabby and sorry for myself, I am taking this as time off and recovery that I probably wouldn't have granted myself if I hadn't fallen A over T downstairs.  The cats are keeping me company and it is cool in the front room.  Nothing more to add for the moment - I can feel myself getting better and that is all that matters :-)

Clear Out

May. 19th, 2017 01:26 pm
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A week ago, I was kinda hoping to be out and about, driving over best part of Cornwall and taking photos.  The ankle has screwed up that idea.  So today, I am attempting to clear the office, donating some of my Angela Carter reference books to a feminist trust, some of my Gothic books to a fellow writer, who writes in this genre. I have a stack of paperwork to shred, but there are some key things I am keeping for future reference.  It's amazing what you collect over time.

The rest of the afternoon will be spent with my foot up - I still have bruising a fluid to get rid of.  I haven't watched daytime television since I was ill 5 years ago - and let me tell you, it's dire.  Talk shows where people are slinging the furniture at each other. Bad soaps etc.  What was that, Juvenal? Bread and circuses, you say?  I think I will use my rest time to get some reading done, lest I will go crazy LOL :-))))
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Today is my last day at the essay and the end of my degree. I cannot describe the physical pain I am in. There is no guarantee I will get extenuating circumstance sorted and I can't live on those variables.  I just have to get on with it and submit.  Right now, I am looking forward to my freedom and never, ever having to write an essay at this standard ever again, plus reading books that I don't have to dissect.  I will be back at some form of college at night school for a couple of other qualifications, but nowhere near the level of strain that I have been under.  Mostly, I look forward to spending time on seeing people and doing some arty/crafty stuff.  When I get back to writing, it shall be for the pure enjoyment of it.

Right now, I am angry, but am using it to fuel my last 24 hours on this turkey.  I can guarantee that it will be a crap essay in comparison to what I am capable of (I am 'Update Draft' Queen), but I would prefer to take a punt and get over fifty rather than get it capped at forty or fail the degree at this stage!
 
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I don't know what is wrong with me.  I just don't have the impetus anymore.  It is like I submitted my diss and now I don't care.  I have written a bit on my last satire essay - but it is mostly bound with quotes rather than an actually argument.  Thing is - I'm done.  Done with the course, education etc.  I have been locked away for so long, it is literally a culture shock each time I go out further than 3 miles.  It's spring.  I've seen precious little of it.  I am surprised to see leaves, rain, shadows - like WTF?  Yet I don't to bow out with possibly the crappiest mark ever.  That's not good or me or my lecturer (who is a great lady and an absolute hoot).

I just have no drive and instead of stepping up to the challenge and finishing like a pro - I am dragging my heels, cussing all the way and just want to crawl across the line and f**k the results.  I need a good kick up the arse.  I would be most embarrassed to get such a frighteningly low score.  So I am going to offload onto dictaphone, give myself a bit of a kicking and get back to working it out properly.

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If Cornwall had underground stations - personally, I love the idea :-D

 
 
 
Well, I have managed to substantially edit it bringing it down from 2,000 of mess, to 1,859 of fairly understandable train of thought.  A third of it is comprehensible, the other two thirds are bitty.  Yet, I feel there has been progress made, it is just I have to fed in the theory and tailor the argument a bit.  Well, quite a lot, but i will need to motor on tomorrow.

Which might be difficult as I have a houseful tomorrow.  Friends are down from Norfolk and Prodigal 2's girlfriend is due over.  I, however, am to be locked into my ivory tower magnolia office and will leave the entertaining to Hubby and Son.
changeling67: (Default)
 animal-7
 
 

Bingley had been thinning out around the base of her tail and assumed that it was mange or fleas or whatever, so we gave our vet a call.  Now Bingley had been a timeshare cat for a fair while, but because she had moved in with us on a more permanent basis, we assumed that Bing was a stray.  She needed medical attention.  Imagine the horror that we turn up there hoping to get her treated - only to find that she is tagged and is noticed as missing.  I was absolutely shocked and heartbroken when the vet called Bingley's actual folks, who we have found lives down the road from us.  And that slinky Bingley with the girly soft fur and cuddly demeanor was actually MISTER Bingley - very definitely a 'blue toothbrush' cat..  Anyway, we walked away from the vet minus Bingley, I was absolute inconsolable.

Bingley's folks gave us a knock and returned him to us, saying he is happier here and gave him over. I was blubbing and doing my best 'puss, puss' and we have their number etc.  It's all worked out in the end and Bingley is now crashed out in the other room.  It has taken a dent out of my research for today and I think I will do the Roger Allam skit in The Thick of It.  I am early on the train tomorrow for my last ever lecture and am in lock in all weekend so I can finish the bloody thing.

Juvenile humour at it's best.

 
 

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I find your lack of kitty treats somewhat disturbing.
 

Today is basically been about researching M.M. Bakhtin's philosophy and I have been redirected to his book which has been most interesting.  I will feel better when I have substantially copied notes from that and have cited and merged them with my work.  It is a work in progress :-)

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