Synchronicity

Synchronicity happens for me from time to time. When it does, I have to chuckle.

So here's the thing. This week my agent asked me if I'd be able to handle a media-interview in French. I thought a minute and answered, 'Yes'.

Many moons ago, I was truly fluent. In fact there was a time when I stood on deck on a channel crossing between France and England, chatting to the person standing next to me at the rail. She said, 'I can't quite tell. What part of France are you from?' Many years later, I've become somewhat rusty. Still, I enjoy listening to Espace Radio now and then, mostly because of the classical music they play.

To add a second element, last night my husband and I watched a BBC production of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' on DVD. We had mixed feelings about it, although nothing can take away from the gasping magnificence of Shakespeare's language. Somehow the play didn't come across as a comedy. Weird. What was interesting was how it depicted the way that mischievous sprite Puck interfered and influenced the humans... he was very upclose and personal!

So this morning I turn on the radio. And what do I hear (in French)? An introduction to and explanations about Purcell's music to 'Dream'!!!

Libraries I have Loved (long post)

One of my current concerns is around the declining state of libraries today. Closures in Britain, lack of funds in South Africa, and so forth. It's sad and worrying.

I love libraries. Yesterday was our 'bookmobile' day and I'm so grateful to have this facility. When we were looking for our previous home, one of my (few) criteria was to be within walking distance of the library in Richmond Hill. And we were. And it was a marvellous place, where I spent many happy and instructive hours, and also discovered new reading treasures.

The library habit was engendered in me by my dad. He had a lifelong love of learning... yes, even when he was in his nineties and his sight was failing. The librarians at both the Johannesburg and the Cape Town reference libraries knew him so well they'd let him take precious books home with him!

Reading about the projected closures in Britain brought back to me one of my favourite library experiences. Once, we lived for six months in Lingfield, a tranquil English village spoiled only by the fact that it was on the flight path to Gatwick. If I happened to be listening to the radio while ironing and a plane flew over head, I'd miss a couple of minutes of the broadcast. Anyhow, there too we could walk to the library. Over a playing field, through a style, across the road, and there the tiled-roof cottage was, complete with a lawn so old it was a national treasure!

The library in Paddington was where I'd go for solace and to find Richmal Crompton William books to cheer me up when I was homesick. Also, I read Mazo de la Roche with no idea the stories were set in Canada! Hah! This was a large Victorian building, as was the library in Ilkeston where we lived for a year in the 'Seventies. Both of these were accessible via Shanks pony, although the former was quite a hike. I must confess, though, cavernous Victorian red-brick is not so appealing to me.

An important scene in my YA novel to be published in spring 2012 is set in the library at the University of Cape Town. Sadly (to me) this had moved from the building I'd used as a student, one with much teak panelling and redolent with that special and magical smell.

And that's where I'll leave it at the moment folks. Maybe there'll be more on Libraries I have Loved at a later stage!

It's a stretch!

Recently, very recently, something wonderful has happened to me soon after I wake up in the mornings (as opposed to after my nap!!). That is, I'm seized by the urge to stretch. And I do. What an amazing feeling! I'm so happy to experience this after a long time. The thing is, making my own decision to stretch and carrying that out simply isn't the same. It doesn't bring that surge of energy and satisfaction, the sense of well-being.

Which is not to take away from the benefits of stretching. Ever since we were taught some back exercises at ballet school I've used various stretches as needed. But somehow the involuntary one feels like a gift. A bit like a good sneeze, I suppose. This, as I understand it, can shake you up in a good way... so rather the opposite of a stretch?

My dad used to get annoyed when I suddenly exploded in a sneeze. "Bren!" he used to chide. "Please!" I never understood what he expected me to do about it because there was no way I could suppress that impulse.

Old typewriters, modern websites

One of these days, before very long, I'm going to up my web presence. This will be in anticipation of publication in Spring 2012. (Yay!!) Expect more, much more, on this in later posts.

So I've been surfing around, looking at various writing and author web sites to get an idea of what's out there. And it struck me how often you find an image of an old typewriter at the top of the page. Is this nostalgia, or have we endowed that out-dated machine with a kind of glamour? As one who actually learned to type on one of those clunkers, I can tell you there was nothing glamourous about it.

Yes, I took a 3 month secretarial course between leaving ballet school and starting at uni. Typing was brutal. Apart from having to wham those keys down with a force at the opposite end of the gentle stroke we need today, we also had to type blind i.e. with a kind of green apron covering the qwerty etc. At that time, people who were starting to wake up to the women's movement used to advise: never admit you can type! But the skill has stood me in good stead over the years. I'm only sorry I lost the ability to take shorthand notes!

I suppose a photo or drawing of a computer doesn't carry much cachet, and the image of the old typewriter conveys a certain romantic notion of 'the writer'. I can't imagine there are many of us today who use those machines, although I have to admit I like using an even older method of putting words on paper, and often pick up a pen or pencil.

And come to think of it, I have an image of a quill-like feather on my business card!

Home from the hills

Here I am, back home after almost three weeks vacation, and feeling renewed. To me, California is a little bit like a mix of the Johannesburg and Cape Town of my youth, mostly because they have much of the flora in common, plus the warm, dry air, which does me good.

I have a friend who always asks, 'What was the highlight of your trip?' Sometimes I have a hard time replying. But now this is easy to answer. Setting aside being with family, I was thrilled by the Getty Villa in Malibu. We were lucky enough to catch the last day of a special exhibit about the art of Ancient Greek theatre, and spent a couple of hours examining and admiring large black vases decorated with figures from tragedy and comedy. There was also a huge wall map showing where all the open air theatres were... so many!

It's a special pleasure to visit such beautiful surroundings and see an exhibition put on so well. I almost felt transported to that era, that I could slip into a different experience and see with different eyes. Very inspiring!

But sitting on the beach watching the waves wasn't so bad either.

Found one! A New Year resolution, that is

I have to confess, I haven't as yet put much thought into what I need to resolve for this year. However, this morning, something came to me, alighting in my mind just like that butterfly, the one that flutters by.

I was busy with a soft eye-pencil, lining the top lid of one eye, and I thought, 'Oh, I should try my agent again.' Yes, I'd been trying to reach her but the line was engaged. But then I thought, 'Come on, Brenda, finish this activity first!'

I'm happy to report I didn't walk around with one eye lined. Instead I completed my make up and then picked up the phone. With good, reinforcing results, because there she was, on the line.

The thing is, I'm inclined to be sanguine when it comes to small tasks like that. I suppose my mind wanders. Often I'll be in the midst of making the bed, for instance, when something will pop into my head and off I'll go... So I think this is a good, simple resolution for me, and one that will be strengthening.

A Clever Hat

Over the holidays I acquired a beret from dear daughter. I'd forgotten what an excellent thing a beret is... easy to squish in your purse, warm on your head and you can wear it at different angles according to mood, and even pull it down over the ears if you need to.

The last time I owned a beret was back in my ballet school years, a very long while ago. We wore a uniform of loden green wool blazers, skirts, cardigans, berets, with deep eau-de-nil blouses and dresses for the summer.

As far as uniforms are concerned, I'm not certain whether to be for or against. Certainly, knowing exactly what you had to wear each school day had many advantages -- egalitarianism being one of them. I see the Labour Party in the U.K. is advocating once again for schools to adopt uniforms. On the other hand there's the whole question of, well, uniformity.

I never minded wearing a uniform myself. Perhaps this was because the colours were acceptable to me, and the styles comfortable. But I always remember how my younger brother hated the grey of his first school. When he moved to green he felt much better.

So now I have my perky red beret to wear. If I were a man it would make me look much more French! That would be fine by me. In any case, I'll enjoy the convenience and the memories of my clever hat.

Christmas time is over

Time is such a puzzling phenomenon, don't you think? Or maybe, better said, our experience of time. Over the past week I've been content to just enjoy the days and nights going by, not feeling compelled to engage too much with work and the world. Slowly, this is changing as I turn my attention towards the month and year ahead.

I suppose that's what a vacation is all about. First you go through the process of letting go, then (if you're lucky enough to have the time) you can just 'be' for a bit, and after that you start picking up the threads again. Just as well, or I'd be lying around in sloth for ever!!

It's interesting (confusing?) how the past, present and future intermingle in my mind though. I find it amazing how a long-forgotten memory can suddenly pop up. Sometimes there's an outer stimulus for this, but sometimes not. Weird really. And I find it fascinating how people I've shared experiences with often remember quite different aspects and incidents, reminding me how we all see the world somewhat differently, according to the particular lenses of our souls.

One of the perks of being a writer is that we're given the chance to view the world from the points of view of our protagonists. It's a good exercise, I think.