K is for Knee-jerk

Have you ever given a knee-jerk reaction?

One of the skills I’ve learnt as a writer is to be patient and edit what I say. It’s a valuable skill as a writer. But it’s made me more cautious about expressing my opinion or giving knee-jerk reactions and I’m not sure that is always healthy. Sometimes, I’ve written out emails and texts which get right to the heart of what I want to say quite bluntly. But fearing the consequences, nine times out of ten, I leave them in draft until I’ve calmed down, sometimes for days and a lot of the time I never send those emails even when I have every valid reason to press “send”.

Primarily, this is because I’ve realised over the years it is often a complete waste of my time and energy corresponding with people who can never see someone else’s point of view, who have zero empathy.

You might as well invest your time in doing something constructive. Like putting out the bins.

However, there it is quite satisfying about giving an honest, full-frontal reaction. And letting go of pent-up emotions can be a good thing because keeping them in can make you seriously ill.

I have had a few situations lately where my intensity of emotions was so great I have given knee-jerk reactions.

And on reflection, I still think they were the right reactions. I was brought up with a strong sense of what is right and wrong and fair and my parents were kind, generous people.

And I realised I should stop consenting to these person’s poor behaviour by not speaking up. Because often these people are bullies. Bullies in relationships or bullies in the workplace. They rely on people’s fear and good nature to get their own way. And if I don’t speak up I am allowing them to continue riding roughshod over myself and others.

So maybe less thoughtful editing from now on. And more shooting from the hip is what’s needed.

Yes, I think so.

So, a question. If you’ve given a knee-jerk reaction, how did it work out for you?

J is for Jane Who?

Over the last week, I have written 18,000 words of a new book. I plan to finish it in the next 28 days. I’m on track though as the as the average novel is only 90,000 so I’m already a substantial way into it. If I continue at the rate I’m going, I will have more then enough material to whittle away anything superfluous.

I’m not sure if I’ll publish it. It may be a bottom drawer book. Most writers have several of these: Books where they learnt their craft or books that didn’t work out as planned. I have one too. This may or not be another one. It is too soon to tell.

However, it is not comedy. Although there are glimpses of my humour. Life would be dull without humour...

I have spent ten years building a writing career which has, sadly, stagnated due to the difficulties in my personal life. But no more. I have decided I shall continue to write comedy under my present name. However, when I step outside of comedy I will write under a pseudonym.

In the course of time, I will probably reveal this name to those of you who have become my friends and long-term readers. I haven’t decided on my name yet so if you’d like to particpate in throwing some ideas around now’s your chance.

All suggestions greatly received!

I is for Ignoramus

I wonder how many people know what “ignoramus means”?

I looked it up just to be sure.

Basically, it’s a posh word to describe a stupid person. It’s the sort of word quarrelsome academics or posh folks who went to public school would use to describe each other...

“I read Charles’ paper on Lichtenstein. Pompous twaddle. He really is an ignoramus.”

“I was at the Club the other night and bumped into Wally. Total ignoramus. Wally by name, Wally by nature I’m afraid. I heard his father was Master of the Hounds. Can’t believe it. Surely, must be the son of a grocer.”

It’s also the type of word historians use:

“The Prime Minister had a penchant for pigs and referendum. In all likelihood, history will not look kindly on such an ignoramus.”

“When he turned his attention from Britain to Russia, Churchill knew Hitler was not just evil, but an ignoramus of stupendous proportions and, ultimately, Britain would be victorious.”

So to sum up, ignoramus is not the type of word you’ll find on this blog. I’m pretty blunt so I think someone’s an idiot I just tend to come out and say it. That said, I’m going to make “ignoramus” my word of the week and try and say it as much as possible now.

If  I say enough, I might get offered a job in banking or Westminster so I can work with other ignoramuses.

Hmm. The future looks rosy. I love the idea of dining out on expenses. Awesome.

H is for Homeless

Since I have been working back in London, I have been appalled by the number of homeless people I’ve seen. It is so much worse than twenty years ago when I first worked in the capital.

In Oxford Street there are homeless people begging every few yards. It is awful.

In Euston station the other night I had my worst experience. I was approached by a young girl, a blanket over her head, her face pale and drawn. Desperation in her eyes. She was only about the same age as my youngest son. She was like a zombie. The living dead. I stepped back. In fear maybe. Perhaps distaste. I don’t know. I had no money on me to give her and within a few moments, she moved on.

I am ashamed of myself. I keep thinking it over and over. What I might have done to help her. Maybe I should have taken her home for the night. I’ve tried to make excuses to myself that I have more than enough problems to deal with at the moment with break up of my marriage, financial worries and a crap job but it doesn’t ease the guilt. I failed another human being. And a child too.

I have decided I am going to write an article on homelessness. I have asked a friend who is a photographer to take some pictures for me and I will see if I can sell it to the papers to raise awareness. It is shameful that in a country like the U.K. people should be so poor they have to live on the streets and in the alleyways.

I have one month left in London. In that time I intended to interview some homeless people and let them speak for themselves. Use my writing ability to do some good. Hopefully.

Since the breakup of my marriage, my constant worry has been not knowing if I can keep my children’s home. And I know, at the very best, I am only a few months away from losing it. There are more living expenses to pay than just a mortgage. Something my husband hasn't seem to have had a grip on for many years.

And so I know what the threat of losing your home feels like but, ultimately I could down-size my house and the boys and I could squeeze into a much smaller property. It would be tough and yet another kick in the teeth but at least I'd still have a home. Others have lost their homes. They have no place to go for warmth and shelter except shop doorways and rubbish strewn gutters.

It breaks my heart.

G is for Ghosting

Now if you are an oldie like me you may thinking “ghosting” is what happens at midnight in a spooky old house.

Apparently not. It is a term now used for when people you’ve dated just disappear on you. No email, no text, no letter or last minute call. They just disappear and you never, ever hear from them again.

I believe it’s actually a term derived from David Cameron’s departure from 10 Downing Street.

I fancy to do some political ghosting too. I’m planning to write to Tony Blair and say I’d like to donate 5 million to his foundation if he’ll drop his trousers on Horse Guard’s Parade during a live TV broadcast.

I reckon he’d actually do it for less but 5 million is a nice round figure.

Then I’ll ghost him. Obviously.

Maybe I’ll do it to Tom Cruise too. Tell him I’ve discovered an elixir for growth. And when he’s transferred me the cash I’ll slip off to the Caribbean in my yacht.

Ah sweet dreams.

F is for Forceps

I don’t think men know enough about forceps. But it’s about time they did. So I’m going to explain what the fear is like when a midwife holds up the forceps and says “I’m afraid I’m going to have to use the forceps.”

It’s like a irate women holding up a pair of nutcrackers in front of her partner and saying:

“I’ve always had a penchant for nuts. And your’s look ripe for cracking.”

Oh there’s another F I liked to talk about and that’s “Freedom”.

For the last 6 weeks or so I have been working in the most hellish job I have ever had with a level of toxicity and venom I have never encountered before in all my working life. Today, I made the decision to leave. It was a shame as it was a job I really needed and I will have to work even harder to get to where I want to be now when I thought I was finally on track. But I am old and wise enough to know that some battles aren’t worth fighting. And tonight when I left knowing my time there is limited I felt freedom in my veins.

And it felt good. I will sleep easy tonight.

E is for Erogenous Zone

Okay, I’m not going to beat about the bush. Contrary to what some young people seem to think, people over fifty still have sex and still have erogeneous zones.

We are not dead. Some of us might look like it (I’m thinking of Rupert Murdoch) but we are alive and we occasionally still think about sex.

And if we’re lucky we actually get to have it with someone who is alive and not a blow-up doll or, if you’re a woman, a giant vibrator which came free with a month’s supply of incontinence pads from Amazon.

So what I’m saying is us oldies still have erogenous zones. However, instead of being based mainly in our pants they are based in our brains.

That’s why I know that fantasying about having sex with Georg Clooney would actually be better than having it. I know this as he has twins. Which means he probably hasn’t slept for a year and he has less chance of getting it up than I do have of losing half my body weight before Christmas.

This is the good thing about getting old - you don’t actually have to have sex to have it. If you get what I mean.  For example, the other night I had sex with Tom Cruise. It was a far-out experience. Especially when the little green man arrived and we went all out for a threesome.  And you know what the best bit was folks?

I didn’t have to change the sheets.

Awesome.