I mostly write on my laptop. If I'm taking notes I may scribble thoughts on paper but the writing is done on keyboard to screen.
Sometimes though, when the words are given, when they flow fast and furious, capturing mood and moment then I write with pen on paper.
I write in a battered and old notebook. For ten years it has held some of my more creative work. The work that is not suitable for polite company. Work that is uncivilized, dark and a little dangerous.
It is never planned and always a surprise and tonight I've sat for hours at my kitchen table with mugs of warmed spiced cider and like a wild woman poured forth a poetic rant of a story.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
George Owen my paternal grandfather was a fascinating man. I know very little about him but his influence on my life is visible.
When he retired from being a Mental Health Nurse he started a volunteer job and then set up a whole project run by volunteers. Long before community transport was a thing and before health and safety and insurance curtailed such things he had a 'gang' of retired gentleman with CB Radios* in their homes and cars. People who wanted a lift to the hospital, day centre or the shops would ring my Nana and her or one of us grandchildren would get on the CB and put a call out.
As an aside Mr P now works two days a week doing exactly the same job - the only difference is these days it's managed by the council - although I gather a CB Radio and a bunch of kids could possibly improve things!
That was my very first experience of being a volunteer and it kindled a life long commitment to volunteering. So after the CB apprenticeship I did shifts at the local hospital shop with my Nana. When I was 13 I volunteered at the local swimming baths in the changing rooms. You were given a strange hanging basket to put your shoes and clothes in. You handed that in to the volunteer attendant and were given a rubber bracelet with a number on it so you could collect your belonging after your swim.
My next significant volunteer role was as Hospital Radio DJ at Harrogate Hospital Radio. That was 23 years ago and it's where I met Mr P who was also volunteering. My fondest memory of that time was the day after Calum was born. Mr P went to do his radio show while all the mums and Midwives on the ward gathered round to listen. He opened his show with a touching tribute to the Midwives and his newborn son and then played Moon on your pyjamas by Paul Weller. It still makes me cry to think of it.
Since then I've had three roles - I worked at a shelter for the homeless in London, was an LEA school governor in Birmingham and for the past 10 years my volunteer work has been an overspill from my NCT role as an antenatal teacher.
I mention all of this not to say 'look how wonderful I am' but to share something that is part of who I am, who my family were and are and to share part of my approach to life - to serve. It's an uncomfortable concept, at least it is for me. I am not servile by nature or inclincation. But it's an important part of my approach to life.
I see it as a tithe, except instead of money to a government or religious organisation I am tithing my time. My commitment for 2015 is to volunteer one day a week (excluding NCT overspill). Yesterday I picked up a shift at the local Oxfam shop. On Friday mornings I will be upstairs in the boutique and craft corner, where I have been actively encouraged to knit and sew and teach customers crafting skills - what a perfect role for me.
"....Without volunteers many of the statutory services would be overwhelmed. Voluntary work gives the sense of being able to give something - whether in time, money or expertise - and that is precious to the person doing the giving. The feeling of having contributed, the satisfaction of a job lovingly done, is the reward. We should not regard voluntary work as of less value because it is unpaid and the rewards intangible, nor should we exploit the goodwill of volunteers...."
* This was the 70s and strictly speaking CB Radios weren't entirely legal - that happened in 1981.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
One of the biggest changes this year has been the loss of routine. For 25 years, Monday to Friday, I got up at a certain time to go to work. The jobs changed (17 times) but the routine was familiar. Home at 6ish to cook dinner and grab an hour or two to knit or sew. Saturdays were all about chores and Sunday whatever was left over got attention and that included family, friends etc.
I was working until 10pm last night and I'll be doing the same tonight. It took me a while to realise that if I didn't pace myself and rearrange my expectations of time then I would be working all the time - and to be honest that's not what I want.
Becoming self employed was as much about me as it was about being able to focus more time on the work that matters to me. It was about creating my reality, a reality that sustains, fulfills and allows me to nurture my own health and wellbeing - physically, mentally and spiritually.
Twice this week (and it's only Tuesday) I have felt criticised because of some of the choices I am making. Apparently I need to be an activist and I need to market my 'business' more. On both occasions I was challenged to explain and justify my decisions and approach. I didn't respond well. I need to find grace and let go of my ego in order to articulate my sense of self, passion and purpose.
When I was working five or six days a week in a job that was easily understood, in a routine that was recognisable I was only ever challenged to justify my approach to life by one person.................me.
I have lost the safety net of routine and have yet to find comfort in the rhythm.
Posted by Dalesgirl at 9:15 am