Friday 26 March 2021

The Gift of Reading

I'm currently reading a book called The Gifts of Reading; inspired by Robert Mcfarlane and curated by Jennie Orchard. It is a series of short essays on the joys of reading, giving, and receiving books. I have been enjoying the differing perspectives immensely, what most have in common is a 'person'. This person gave them a particular book, this person (who happens to be a librarian in one story) guides the writer to the book or book(s) that inspired them, that started them on their journey of reading and writing and generally loving and advocating for the written word.

One of my favourite places. Barter Books Alnwick


This has given me pause to reflect, do I have a person? Do I even have that one book that started it all?


I recall being around eightish and the girl across the road was babysitting for me (that girl later became my sister-in-law). I don't know how or why it came about but she ended up reading a section of Charlotte's Web to me. I never did finish the book and she didn't read to me again but the warm feeling one gets from being read aloud to has never left me. I dream occasionally of having a man read lovingly to me, Jude Law maybe...I like his voice. Alas, I am not married to Jude Law, nor is my husband one to read aloud to me. I wonder if it is this feeling of being read to that inspired such a drive to build a home library for my children and to read to them every night, even when none of us were in the mood! 


Later in life, say around tenish, I do recall loving the Roald Dahl books and loaning my treasured copy of Matilda to a friend. She kept it for an inordinately long time and when the book was returned it was no longer readable. I was incensed and vowed never to loan another book again, I have since but only to fellow librarians or my Mum both of whom I trust implicitly with the books I give them.


A little later, or maybe about the same time I have memories of visiting the library. Never with my mum, who was either working or otherwise busy with single parenthood. No usually with my cousin or alone. These were the days of Nancy Drew, Point Crime, and Point Horror. The days of devouring book after book and being constantly jealous of my cousin who could always read faster than me and 'graduated' to adult books and a love of Stephen King way ahead of me, even though there are only nine months between us. 


Next came the teenager break from reading. I recall still reading something but nowhere near as much and often my memories are of college or University texts rather than for pleasure. Though I did still manage to amass a stock of books collected from all over the place. John Grisham featured here for a time and soon true crime books made an entrance.


My passion for reading didn't become inflamed until I gave birth to my first child. This was about the time I discovered Harry Potter and the need to have the next book in the series. I also discovered the joys of Julia Donaldson and Alan Ahlberg and Oliver Jeffers whilst reading to the munchkin. I soon became a little obsessed. Junior fiction became a huge part of my life as much for my enjoyment as that of my children. I discovered places like the Seven Stories Centre in Newcastle, the Discover Centre in London, and Bewilderwood in Norfolk. It was a few years after my second munchkin came along that a friend showed me a job advert for a library assistant position at a nearby library. I applied and the rest they say is history. It was like putting a child with a sweetie problem in the literal sweet shop. My obsession was stocked and now my children are teenagers and no longer need my input into what they read, so I read for myself.


Looking back on my brief life in books I can't say that there was one book that outshone the rest, there have been many books that have arrived at the right time and under the right circumstances, that is a post for another day. Nor has there been that one literary person that is responsible for my passion. I doubt I would love books and reading as much as do if it hadn't been for libraries and their openness to take in everyone and let them discover things by themselves, both as a reader and professionally. I also doubt I would love libraries as much as I do if not for my cousin and those trips to the library and sharing Point Horror and Point Crime books. Ultimately I suppose though my passion for books and reading is inextricably linked to my children. Without feeling the need to pass on reading and books to them I doubt my own love would have grown so much.


As for gifting books to others, I don't have a top-five books that I gift, I just give books. Whenever I can I give books. I am that Auntie and I am probably hated for it, but I figure that the more books are under people's noses the more likely they are to read and get the associated benefits from reading. If I can't think of the right book, book tokens it is. It seems like a cop-out sometimes, but then I remember how much I love visiting bookshops (about as much as libraries) and realise that I am probably giving a better gift in some respects.


I still collect lots of books, and I still use the library a lot too (and Netgalley and the library e-book borrowing service and kindle and audible) basically any way of getting hold of books and I'm in! Which is why I have no room on my bookshelves and also why I will never read all the books I want to. In The Gifts of Reading William Boyd wrote:

    "I say to myself as I look at the exponential growth of books in my house that if there is a circle of hell in a notional literary purgatory where the compulsive book buyer is obliged to dwell for a few millennia, then perhaps I will resign myself to my fate. As long as there is something to read."

Although this sounds more like a version of heaven.



Thursday 18 March 2021

The Tea Shop

Hello there. At the beginning of March, I saw a post on Twitter. The gist was that instead of 'The Ides of March' writers could do the 'Ideas of March' and note down daily at least one story idea. So I shared it with the writer's group I am in and we decided to have a bash at the Ideas of March, with no pressure though because that's how we roll.


Anyway, so far I have actually managed to come up with a new idea each day and today I thought I would take an idea and play around with it a little and see what happened.


The idea I chose was "It's just an ordinary tea shop...or is it?" so here is the little flash of a thing for you, including my nod to the Bard this Shakespeare Week.



 A little Youtube music for you while you read.
Drink Me - Anna Nalick




The Tea Shop


The brass handle on the door squeaked a little as it moved to open, seemingly disconnected from the shadow you could see through the frosted glass. The bell above the oak door tinkled announcing the customer’s arrival.


Cary emerged through the beaded curtain that led to the private quarters. The owner of this establishment was not what one would consider to be conventional. Today she wore her standard working boots, a victorian style of heeled boot with button fastenings running up the side, combined with purple tights and a multilayered skirt. This was paired with a crisp white shirt and waistcoat, in the pocket of which she kept her pocket watch. Cary was never seen without one of her amazingly designed hats and today’s number was a purple top hat with a tulle bow and cascading tails down her back.


“Good morning, how may I…” Cary started her bright and inviting welcome as was customary for all visitors to the shop but stopped dead when she saw Julie before her. 


Rushing around the counter Cary caught Julie as she stumbled to the floor. Her clothes were torn and under the grime blooms of blue and purple were starting to rise on her face with a dribble of blood coming from the corner of her mouth.


“Harelson” Cary all but screamed, “Harelson, it’s Julie.”


“Oh, sweet Apothecary.” Julie sobbed into Cary’s arm. 


Harelson, Cary’s assistant, burst through the beads in his tweed slacks and waistcoat with his shirt sleeves rolled up and collar missing. A sure sign the delivery had already arrived.


“Get her in the back,” Cary ordered as she transferred the now unconscious form to Hare. Rising to action Cary flipped the closed sign on the door and twisted the lock before Hare had even had time to stand with Julie in his arms. Cary then yanked all of the blinds down on the door and the two windows of the double-fronted high-street store, if you could call it a high-street anymore, but not before glancing down the street looking for anything she needed to worry about.


In the comfort of the back room, dressed and designed like a Victorian ladies parlor, Cary knelt in front of the prone figure on her couch. “What was she playing at?” She mused under her breath.


“Hare I need some boiled water and clean rags.” 


“Already on it mistress.” Hare bobbed his head before backing away to finish gathering supplies.


“And Hare. Send a runner to get Rome, we don’t need him starting a war over this,” She sighed. “I’ll put a pot of tea on,” Carey said to no-one in particular. “I have a feeling we are going to need it.”




Say hi, let me know you're still around after this crazy crazy year.

Thursday 11 March 2021

2020

 The year that was awful on so many levels, in so many different ways, for so many people. I have really struggled when it has come to writing recently because writing means slowing down, looking inward, and exploring feelings...and since March 2020 I haven't wanted to look at them at all!


Generally 2020 made me feel useless. I couldn't tell my youngest why the Government thought it safe for her to go to school with hundreds of other kids and teachers but that she hasn't been able to see her Nana in over a year. I haven't been able to ease the depression that various aspects of the lockdown has exacerbated in my eldest. Due to my own disabilities, I was unable to care for my husband during an operation and recovery as I would like to. I have been unable to help a friend during the toughest experience of her life. And as for me, self-care was almost been impossible. I haven't wanted to slow down and take time to recover; I needed to stay busy, remain occupied, keep 'doing'; just so that I didn't have to notice the feelings creeping up inside.


As 2020 ended and 2021 started and things didn't seem to be getting better with the wider situation. I was facing turning 40 and to be fair I wasn't dreading this as much as turning 30, I have had ten years to come to terms with the fact I was seen as an adult. For me mentally things started to shift and I started to enjoy the things lockdown has forced: Family time, a slower pace of life, a focus on what is actually important. I have become quite thankful for the focus that I have developed over the last few months and I have this weird zen-like feeling, home-schooling aside!


The positives for me; my reading has almost tripled compared to previously, I finished my crochet jumper (a project about two years in the making), and I am well on my way with my 40 in 40 challenge (a challenge to complete 40 things during my 40th year).


I am looking forward to lots of things when life starts to re-open: I want my hair cutting (desperately), I can't wait to go to the cinema to see a great film, I want to sit in a cafe and have a brew with my mum. But equally, I don't want to lose the lockdown life feeling, I want to keep things slow and focus on the important things in life.

 

I won't call this post literary brilliance, but for the sake of the 'Life' part of the blog title, I really couldn't skip this chunk.


How has lockdown impacted you? Are you itching to get back to 'normal' life or will you be trying to maintain some of the lockdown life as things re-open? What have you achieved during lockdown that would probably still be sat waiting if Covid had never happened?


Keep safe folks xx