Pimpled, single and seedy - who me ? !

The BBC website, which is undoubtedly one of Britain's best known institutions, and arguably exports, has almost 100 blogs attached to it whose readers are invited to comment on a range of different topics. However, Andrew Marr (former political editor of BBC News) has dismissed most of these bloggers as "inadequate, pimpled and single", and so-called citizen journalism as the "spewings and rantings of very drunk people late at night". He goes on to say that "Most citizen journalism strikes me as nothing to do with journalism at all. A lot of bloggers seem to be socially inadequate, pimpled, single, slightly seedy, bald, cauliflower-nosed young men sitting in their mother's basements and ranting. They are very angry people."

It seems to me from my own observations, that he is talking about social networking sites such as Facebook and Twitter more than real bloggers. There I see all sorts of comments, some obviously made by drunks, some yes by angry people, who in the heat of moment lose all social graces and communication skills (assuming they had any to begin with). Andrew is right when he says that people say stupid things online because it is anonymous, things that they often wouldn't dream of saying if they were face to face. Face to face communication though sadly in modern Britain, no longer seems to exist. Instead of meeting up to talk in person, or even talking over the phone, people share important news by text or email, where the words are all too easy to misconstrue. I have had first hand experience of this myself, when I used to moderate and at one time administrate, internet based forums.

This type of communication, to my mind at least is not communication at all. While it may be true that some bloggers are angry, late night uneducated drunks letting off steam,the vast majority are decent uright citizens simply voicing their concerns. Will blogging ever replace professional journalism? No, nothing can ever take the place of in depth news analysis which only a trained journalist can write, but when it comes to other issues, celebrity gossip, the insiders view of particular industries, gardening and everyday issues that are part of all our lives, then yes, blogging can be and often is, just as valid a means, if not more valid, of obtaining information, and I mean real information.

Self publishing, which I am of course an expert on, is a case in point. If you wish to obtain information on this, which source do you feel would be more reliable, a book written by a professional journalist who had not actually tried this method, or a blog written by someone who had? I know which I would prefer and find far more authentic, and I think the majority of other self publishers would agree with me. The same could be said of anything that you wanted to find out more about - which stereo or mobile phone to buy, which hotel to stay at, blogs written by those who have tried these things for themselves are infinitely more reliable and better informed than articles written by journalists who are given these things for free and simply asked by the manufacturer to write a review.

Is Andrew then right to attack bloggers in the way that he does or does he need to open his ears and eyes a little more to the real world - I suspect a bit of both. Yes there are some angry people out there (and most may well have good reason to feel angry), but this does not excuse their behaviour. On the other hand, there are also some very good blogs written by some very good and responsible bloggers. If he doesn't like a blog and the comments that it attracts, then he can always like everyone else, hit the escape key (or maybe the beep should just have better filters so that comments such as these don't appear inthe first place)!

The universe does listen after all

After weeks if not months of agonising over what do with my job, and having finally made the decision to stay and put out to the universe that a solution needed to be found that would enable me to stay, it seems like my request may at last have been heard. While I was cleaning the laundry room earlier this morning, my colleague came in and informed me that another of the housekeepers, has obtained another job. I know she has been looking for a while, as I discussed it with her, and what she wanted to do, and now it seems that like me she has also made a decision, the opposite of mine, in that she needs to go.

This is good for me, since it will now pave the way for me to get the hours and the long term security that I need. Of course I cannot jump the gun and speak to the boss until I have confirmed this with the girl concerned, for the information was after all second hand. Unfortunately I will have to wait a while for that, since as of last week, the full time housekeepers have been changed so that I no longer see her. I used to see her each week when she did her long day, but long days are now not so long, so she finishes at 4.30pm half an hour before I come in. Something tells me however that the Care Home Manager will speak to me about this anyway though, as soon as things are confirmed and she has handed in her notice. Again this may not be for a while, since her new employer will need to obtain CRB clearance, which can take some time. It seems though that all being well, I will be a full time employee by Christmas.

What a huge relief this will be in so many ways - I will no longer have that constant worry about finances and being able to afford things, and will once again be able to save. Neither will be running around going from job to job, working for a few hours at a time doing washing up for minimum wage just to earn a few extra pounds. There will be no more split shifts either of sitting on my bum in the staff room for 3 hours as the Manager in her own words "cannot justify paying me for those three hours in between". I won't be sitting around bored at home anymore either, with nothing to do but play Farmville, yes this make a really big difference to my life, in many very positive ways. All of this goes to show that good things do indeed come to those who wait, and the universe does indeed listen as well.

Anyone want to buy a book?

Today I am going to write about something that I have not written about for some time - my experiences as a self published author, and the problems associated with book promotion. I have not actively promoted my own work, Genesis of Man, for over a year now, in fact probably nearer two years, since after my return to work in retail in November 2008, it became more and more difficult to do so. I found out the hard way that the two things for the most part at least, are just not compatible. For those who work in the service sector, as I did and still do, it is well nigh impossible to concentrate on both your paid job and your book, as at the very time that you should be at home promoting your work, by writing press releases, phoning book shops, arranging book fairs, talks and signings etc, you are at work promoting other peoples wares. Writing, not to mention promoting a book, takes time and costs money. How are you to this on the ever dwindling royalties that authors now earn? The majority of authors, unless that are married to or in a relationship with someone famous, or have other independent means, cannot do this and have to find some other means of making money, which inevitably takes them away from what they love. It is a struggle and a dilemma that authors the world over have to face, and one that spelt the death knell on my burgeoning career before it had even got off the ground.

The thing that has prompted me to write about this today is another anomaly within the writing world that I found incredibly frustrating during the two to three years that I was promoting my work, and which has re-surfaced back into my consciousness again this week, prompted by a link to a free review site for print on demand works which I was notified of my another blogger whose site I used to read on a regular basis. This anomaly is the fact that there are far more resources (and far more of them are free) for fiction writers than there are non fiction.

Think about this for a moment if you will - what are the typical resources that writers use to perfect their craft and promote their wares - writing courses, networking via the Internet (blogs, peer review sites, forums and so on), radio, television and the press. Now some (in fact most in my experience) would say that non fiction is easier to market because the market is more clearly defined, and in many cases this may well be true, but they are assuming that the work in question can be defined in the first place. When that work (as was and is the case with mine) falls into three or even four categories then what do you do? It as my friend described the promotion of fiction, like throwing paint at a wall.

Actually though I disagree with his observation and his views that promoting non fiction is easier. In my experience it is in fact the opposite. It is a fact that the majority of resources that are open and available to fiction writers are closed to those who write non fiction. Peer review sites for example - there is to the best of my knowledge just one that accepts non fiction and even then without a separate Editor, blog sites - again most state fiction only, writing magazines are full of articles on how to write love scenes, how to write thrillers, write for the stage blah, blah, blah, but try finding an article on how to carry out academic research and gain access to the British Library archives or some such and it is nowhere to be found. The closest I have ever come to a writing course for non fiction writers was one in journalism, which is hardly the same thing (although I am an amateur journalist too as Editor of my village newsletter, so the course was useful from that point of view).

It all though leaves a very sour taste in the mouth and makes you think why? And more to the point what is the point, because I cannot see one. Even with forums it is the same, and I find doors slamming shut in my face - one in particular that I joined a few years ago, is a case in point. It is supposed to be a site for book lovers, but the non fiction forum is rarely used at all. When I contacted the owner about getting my book reviewed, I was told "We will get back to you". Two years later I am still waiting, and in the meantime, fiction writers who joined five minutes ago have their work reviewed and heavily promoted by free. It is just not fair.

I suppose though the point I am trying to make is that it is precisely the fact that there are more resources and more avenues for the fiction writer to try that makes it easier to promote. With non fiction, once you have exhausted all the avenues that are open to you (contacting magazines, specialist websites and forums etc, the press and so on) and they have done their piece or more likely not bothered to get back to you, what do you do then?

The fiction writer however has endless opportunities to play with, new sites and new avenues are constantly springing up to cater to their needs and help them with whatever it is they need, and all this despite the fact that at least two thirds of the books published in the UK are not fiction at all! Surely it should be the other way around and the the resources should be directed at us, but no, not a bit of it. Oh well, I guess I can't change people's attitudes, so maybe I should start a site of my own to try and address these issues. The trouble is I am too busy earning a living. Anyone want to buy a book ? !

Back from Cornwall

On Friday the first day of October, the south of England received around a quarter of its usually monthly rainfall, and this was the day that I chose for driving back from Devon - as it turned out, not a wise move, as it took 8 /12 hours against the usual 5. I thought I was never going to get home. As soon as I thought I was getting somewhere, the traffic seemed to slow again, and by the time I finally got in, I was tired, miserable and thoroughly fed up.

Still, it was worth it. The weather up until the day before had been fantastic. In fact it is hard to believe now that just last Wednesday I was sunbathing at Bedruthan Steps, one of the more stunning North Cornish beaches that I was lucky enough to be able to visit.

To try and keep costs down, I stayed at youth hostels. There are plenty in this part of the country to choose from, and the three I chose were Boswinger, which is in the south near St Austell, Tintagel and Westward Ho! which is just across the county border in Devon.

The drive out was long and tiring, along for me, an unfamiliar route, but now I have done it once, I will remember the way for next time. I usually find that I only have to go a place once in order to get my bearings, and remember my way around sometimes years after that initial visit. Boswinger is a small village near Goran Haven in the south of Cornwall, not far from the Lost Gardens of Heligan, which is of course the main reason I chose to stay there. Sunday then was spend exploring the different routes around the garden, and eating a delicious lunch of baked potato brushed with olive oil, salt and cracked black pepper with Cornish Yard (a Brie type cheese made with nettles), coleslaw and salad, all of which (apart from the cheese) was grown on site. When I returned to the hostel later on that day, I drove to nearby Hemmick beach, which is less than a kilometer from the hostel along a very narrow and very steep road. It was a a beautiful beach, but on the way back I met two cars trying to go the other way. Reversing round all those bends to the nearest passing place on a road barely wide enough for one car proved hairy to say the least, and is not something I would do again - I have a mental note to walk to the beach next time.

Monday was spent driving across Bodmin Moor via Golitha Falls and the village of Minions, which is the highest point on the Moor and close to the Hurlers Stone Circle and various other ancient artefacts. I had lunch in a lovely little tea room in the village and went back to the car to read before continuing the journey on to Tintagel. It was a lovely day, the scenery was stunning and I was in no hurry to get the hostel, which didn't open until 5pm anyway.

The directions said that it was perched on the cliffs near the south west coastal footpath at the end of a very rough track, and they weren't kidding. The track turned out to be a path strewn with rocks and gravel, and I found myself wishing for the first time, that I had a four wheel drive. I managed though, navigating the hairpin bends to arrive at the most beautiful location imaginable. I knew I was going to have an amazing few days and I wasn't wrong.

The weather was variable throughout my stay in Tintagel, but I managed to see all the sites - King Arthur's Castle, The Old Post Office and of course the various shops around the High Street. On one wet and windy lunch time, I treated myself to a delicious plate of scampi and chips. I then drove into Port Isaac, where the television series Doc Martin is filmed, in the company of an Australian lady named Barbara and bought some geranium flavoured Turkish Delight and a CD by local group, Fisherman's Friend.

The following day I went to Bedruthan Steps, around a hour and a half's drive from Tintagel, and not far from Newquay. There are probably quicker ways to get there but I was not confident at finding my way through all the small villages and so chose to stick to the main roads going, through Padstow. It was an amazing day and so warm - I removed the legs form my convertible trousers and walked up the beach for around an hour, stopping every now and then to take pictures of the surf and the huge boulders littering the beach, and supposedly used as stepping stones to the sea by the giant Bedruthan, hence the beach's name. It really was a beautiful day and probably the highlight of this trip.

Unfortunately it was over all too soon, as the following day I headed off out of Cornwall and back towards North Devon, en route for home. The last night was spent in the very cosy and by youth hostel standards, luxurious hostel at Westward Ho! I was the only guest and so had the place to myself - what luxury and how nice to was to sit in the conservatory watching television while listening to the rain, and to go upstairs afterwards for a long hot soak in the bath (the only hostel I have ever stayed at that actually has one). The following day it was back in the car for that long drive home.

It was a tiring week in some ways, with lots of driving (around 800 miles) but one that as ever stretched the boundaries and blew away the cobwebs of the preceding weeks. Of course now I am home, things continue pretty much as before - thankfully none of the residents at work died during my absence, but it is coming up to that time of year, so you do start to wonder who might be next. I would rather not think about it, but the thought is there.

My next time off now will be in November, this time just for five days, and then again in January, before I hopefully head off back to Lundy at the end of February. I need the wide open spaces and the solitude and sense of familiarity that only the island can bring. At the moment the cottage is free from Valentines Day onwards towards the end of March, so Is shall probably book as soon as the next credit card statement is processed, around 15th.

Early to bed, early to rise

When we got to the hospital on Monday after my last post, we were told that could do the scan on Coran's lungs there and then while we were there, so off we trotted and duly waited and waited for the results, which eventually came back clear. What a sense of relief that was. We were asked however to return the following day for an ultrasound scan on his left leg, which as it happens also turned out clear. So, all as they say, ended well.

What a difficult and traumatic few days it was though for both of us, not just because of the uncertainty of it all, but also because of the implications it may have had, and may still have, for Coran's hormone treatment. If the hormones that he takes have been responsible for this scare, then it does throw up all sorts of doubts as to whether he should continue to take them, and if it is really worth the risk. This is a decision that only he can make, in consultation with his Doctor at the gender clinic and his own GP. I am happy with whatever he decides, as long as he is happy and makes that choice for himself based on up to date information and honest, genuine advice as to the likelihood of this recurring. The risks do increase as you get older, but then again, so do most risks. You cannot go through life without taking some risks, but you have to weigh things up carefully and make an informed decision based on the information you have to hand.

So, things are gradually getting back to normal (whatever normal is) for both of us - I was back at work last night and again tonight to try and make up some of the hours I lost. I have a long day tomorrow of 11 hours and then 6 hours on Friday. I would normally work again in the evening, but have arranged for the evening off, as I have so much to do before I go to Cornwall on Saturday - food shopping, packing, collecting my new glasses and of course, completing the village newsletter, the prit deadline for which is Friday. I have to get that done before I go away, as otherwise it will be a week late, which I don't think the villagers would appreciate, not to mention our printer. For the moment though, it is off to bed. I have an early start tomorrow and need my beauty sleep.

It had better be worth it!

This morning we have been sitting and waiting for what seems like eternity for that phone to ring, for someone to put us out of our misery and offer us an appointment at the hospital for the scan that Coran needs to confirm whether or not he has that clot. While we wait everything else also hangs in the balance - whether he can continue to take the female hormones that he has been on for the past 2 1/2 years to femininise the body and balance his emotions and feelings, whether I can go to Cornwall at the weekend, or for that matter, even whether I can go to work tonight. I hate this waiting around and this not knowing, yet I also realise that we are not the only ones, and someone (in fact lots of poeple) somewhere else is also playing that same, the game of waiting and not knowing, and the game of uncertainty.

The trouble is of course, for those affected by this, it is no game, but very serious indeed. This is their lives and our lives. I spoke to one of the residents at work yesterday about what had happened, and she helped to put things in a little more perspective, as she has the exact same condition. She is the youngest resident in the home at just 56 and has a category 2 brain tumour and colonostomy, and as it turns out a blood clot in her leg for which she also has daily injections. This in many ways, despite her own problems, put her in a ideal position to offer the solace that I needed. I am ashamed to say that she brought tears to my eyes, as I realised just how much this has and continues to affect both of us. It is like I say the not knowing and all the waiting around.

Sure we joke about it with friends, but inside, it is a very different matter, both of are very fearful as to what it might mean and how it may affect our lives. This may sound melodramatic, but it is no small thing to be given news such as this. I know it is treatable, but the treatment is intrusive and affects both of us our lives. We have enough stress at the moment, with all the changes that are going on, both emotionally and energetically, and don't need anymore.

I have the added stress at the moment of preparing the October edition of the newsletter for which I have just realised I have no centrespread. This afternoon then I should sit down and write something - probably about my recent trip to Iceland in the absense of anything else, but somehow I do not have the heart. I think I would much rather switch on my phone and go and sit in the sun, but instead we have to the hospital for yet another injection. Perhaps we can go for that cuppa on the way back before I have to head on out again for work.

All I can say is that it bloody well better be worth it, or otherwise when I pass over God will be getting an alimighty kick up the backside!

What a clot - not the best weekend

When I got home from work on Friday evening, with a bag of chips, I was greeted by a rather concerned Coran complaining of pain and swelling in his left calf and requesting that I take him to hospital to have it checked out. So I rather hastily gobbled down my chips and off we went, both of us wondering what it could be about.

Luckily it wasn't too busy when we got there and we were seen pretty much straight away. It was while Coran spoke to the triage nurse that I realised just how serious things might be, for what he hadn't told me was the fact that for the past two days he had been experiencing what he termed as a 'stitch' in his shoulder muscle and heart palpitations, both of which even with my limited knowledge I knew could be indicators of something far more serious.

Anyway, the nurse evidently agreed, for he ushered us inside where we were seen by an array of Doctors and Nurses. Coran had to endure an ECG, a chest Xray and no less than 4 different blood tests, for which we waited an eternity for results. When they finally came back all was normal except for one blood test which indicated that he may have a blood clot on the lung.

Well, I must admit that this knocked me for six. The thing with Coran is that although he is very much in tune with his body and knows instinctively when something is wrong, very often these are stress reactions. He does have an awful lot of fears about medical procedures in general, and in particular needles and the slightest ache tends to give rise to these fears and make them worse, exaggerating his symptoms. Both of us then thought that this was one of those reactions. When we were told otherwise if felt surreal as if it wasn't happening to us but to someone else.

It seemed to be a mirror of what happened almost exactly two years ago on the night that we went to see Stevie Wonder at the O2 and when we spent the night in Mayday Hospital, Croydon, in that 2 armed Police Officers came in as escorts to a young girl who had taken a drugs overdose. We had to sit and listen through closed curtains while the nurse pumped his girls stomach, and it was not a nice thing to hear. At least this time there were no refugees muttering to themselves in foreign tongues (understand that I am not being racist here, but when you are ill this is not what you want or need to experience).

We were finally discharged just before 1am, with Coran having been given (in the stomach) an injection of blood thinning drugs. We were told that he would have to have these daily until the diagnosis was confirmed following a scan which will hopefully be tomorrow. The department that does these is not open at the weekends and so we will have to wait for them to call us with an appointment tomorrow.

This has really knocked for me six and left me feeling really very low, emotional and tearful. It has brought into sharp focus just how much I do love him and take him for granted as I suppose we all do with our partners. Needless to say I didn't make it to work on Saturday. I made it in today though, despite the tiredness, only to find that I was the only housekeeper on duty (well I suppose Sue was the only one in yesterday due to Corans illness). Somehow though I managed and got most of the work done in time for Coran to meet me (having been given a lift by our neighbour) to go to the hospital, which isn't far from where I work for his injection. They did say that he could do them himself if he wanted, but not surprisingly he didn't feel able to, and I can't say I blame him. We both just hope and pray that he doesn't have a clot and this is a false alarm, but if it does prove to be true, well we will have to cope with it the best we can.

All in all then not the best weekend.