Wednesday at Moniack...

Dawn arrived with it's usual scenes of moody mountains mixed with red skies and rolling mist in the valleys, as I stood at the top of the drive at 6.45 early on the Wednesday morning almost halfway through the wonderful Arvon writers course in the Highlands of Scotland I looked across the valleys and then to our abode for the week Moniack and sighed a wistful sigh. This was indeed the most peaceful of times I had known in many years, free from phone calls, questions and interruptions, it was truly a pivotal point in my life but as yet I still did not know that fact.

                                           The view across the valley below Moniack Mhor

I took pictures as I stood there of the wonderful still landscape and my eyes couldn't avert from the smoke that drifted out of the chimney of Moniack from the wood burner I had just that few minutes ago brought to life, it was almost hypnotic as it was the only thing stirring in the whole of the valley apart from the rolling mists far below. Quite a wonderful sight and experience.

I walked slowly towards the cottage feeling very content and very much at peace with all around me, something I guess the Arvon courses instill in their students or at least help them to achieve. I opened the kitchen door and Chris was there at the kitchen table eating his morning toast and drinking tea which he always did first thing, I as usual headed straight for the coffee pot as without that first brew I am just a mere shadow of my usual self, I think my coffee fixation is a tad worrying but i guess there are worse habits to have!. I asked Chris how he had got on,
"Oh Ok I guess I am a bit sort of bogged down by some of it but it's coming along"
"Great" says I " I have finished mine ages ago, stayed up and finished it off, only took me a couple of hours".
Yet again the "confident Mr James" popped his head around the corner, but in reality his days were very soon to be numbered!.

Soon we had a full bustling kitchen with everyone laughing, talking, joking and generally feeling the buzz that this course gives you from day one. Magis and I were as usual teasing each other and Hannah was as always her bubbly self while leaning out of the far kitchen door smoking a fag, soon she was joined by Chris and they were soon sat outside in deep conversation putting the world and their writing through the spotlight.
It suddenly dawned that tonight was my turn on the cooking roster, along with my buddy Chris, Olivia and Heidi who was one of the courses oldest students but scarcely looked half her 67 years, whatever that Swiss air is like I think they should bottle it and export it as it obviously does wonders for youthful looks!.
Gazing at the menu and description we were making a Dahl with rice and I for one saw no meat on the recipe so instantly we had to have a vote, the vote was carried and chicken breasts were duly sent out for to appease the meat eating contingent of which we numbered 100%...which was handy!.

10 a.m came very quickly and we sat down around the huge dining table with John Aberdein our second tutor, with baited breath, John was every inch the Highlander with a greying beard and tall as a block of flats a very strong built man yet his voice was the stuff of voice over directors dreams. He spoke slowly but always meaningfully and was great at interacting with the rest of us. John's way of getting his point across was very much different to Morag's but no less as effective. He made us think very much for ourselves and led us to the point he was making, where as Morag spelled it out straight away and then explained the meaning behind it, both ways working very well and in fact complimenting each other as it kept the lesson time fresh and lively throughout the week. John's lesson was very much about the content of what goes into a story and covered many things that the prospective writer needs to know before contemplating putting pen to paper, or at least what you should know if you want to make your story something that someone else would want to read. John's easy manner almost belied the amount we had learned such was the relaxed way we spoke and discussed the merits of word counts and impact, shock, horror etc on your story and in no time at all 12.30 had arrived and it was lunch time.
Having made a cup of coffee in the kitchen and grabbed a bite to eat (pizza, quiche and salad with pate) scrumptious as usual i settled down to read my previous night's work while munching away. This was a turning point on the course.
 I read my work through again. Then again. Then again...oh dear thought I almost straight away, oh dear oh dear. In the cold light of day I read the work I had so confidently written the night before and it was everything it was NOT supposed to be, it was filled with cliche's and was completely self-indulgent, in fact nowhere near the quality that "confident me" had assured the less than impressed "writer me".
I tried in vain to alter what was on the page but alas 3pm was upon me and it was time to go see Morag and show her what my entire 24 hours had been taken up with since we last spoke. I knocked on the door and walked in and there was Morag sat smiling. I handed her my work like a schoolboy would hand over 18 pages of lines when he was supposed to have done 25 and waited for the fall-out.
When it came it was as straight as it was curt but above all it was also fair. She ripped me to pieces and spat me out on the floor and it was all deserved. I had let my cocky self-assured behaviour get the better of me instead of listening and learning and with every sentence she peeled back the layers of comfort I had hidden behind for all these years and threw them straight in the trash. She apologised once more that it was a little harsh but that it needed saying and I agreed with her all along the way.
"You are actually quite an intelligent man" she said making my sheer lack of effort with my homework seem even worse than i thought it already was,
"I know, I just need to have the confidence to write for me instead of an audience" I coyly said still reeling from the fact that my lack of imaginative work would be my downfall if I wasn't careful.
Morag was as usual absolutely right, she had listened to me talking to the other students about the fact that I had taken only 2 hours to 'perfect' my work until today's meeting and she wasn't going to accept second best, I hadn't put enough thought or effort into the work and I needed to get off that band wagon of soft wishy washy poetry and get my head back around what writing actually meant to me.

I was excused and walked down the stairs with a spring in my step. I knew what she was saying was right and I loved every second of "The confident Mr James" getting his butt firmly kicked into reality. I couldn't be happier. Here is what Morag read and you will see hwy she stated the obvious:

Here amongst the veiled landscapes,
Stairways rise to heaven's gates
Mother Earth's own hump back herd
Inspired from centuries shifting plates

This land of king's an inspiration
beats a heart it calls it's own,
A cauldron spawned from God's creation
Nowhere else could I call home.

Rightly so I was chastised for writing such verse. The cliche's are in there all over the place and a lot of the last few lines make little sense. This is why I came on this course. This was my time to sit and listen to people who knew how to get the best out of the written word that i so considered a friend of mine. I went away so happy yet almost frightened that now it was in my hand's to turn the bad habits I had formed into something meaningful.

I had little time to dwell about that afternoon's eye opening meeting as it was getting towards 4 pm and in my eyes time to start dinner which was due at 7pm. I went into the kitchen and poured 6 tins of tomatoes into a huge dish with seasoning, mild curry powder and herbs and spices, then grabbed another dish and chopped up 6 onions while adding  half a bar of butter and stirring it all up, very enjoyable, though my fellow cookers that night Chris, Olivia and Heidi were a little surprised I had started so early !. None the less i continued and eventually all 3 joined me in the kitchen. Very soon Olivia took charge of the curry while myself and Chris were relegated to him cleaning the pots and pans and myself concocting side dishes and the fruit salad with raspberry sorbet that would follow for dessert.
All was going very well....very well...until the rice.  Now if you are from a Swiss/Japanese background and you come across another Asian female cook in the kitchen that is cooking rice, then trust me, I have seen it with my own two eyes there is going to be trouble. This night was to be no exception. Poor Heidi the Swiss born quiet one of the bunch suddenly turned miniature Rottweiler and the until now so timid Olivia was standing her ground like a Lion protects his pride. It was an immediate battle of culture versus will and it was by far the funniest thing I had seen in ages, much to the frustration of my two fellow cooks. Chris was looking up now and then and we would cross paths with our eyes and do a knowing nod and smile as we watched the two ladies of our team tear into one another about the correct manner to cook rice, this was further confounded when Chris measured out about 4 kilos of rice for the pot which in hindsight would have been enough to feed a small village for a month, all this just made it even funnier and my stifled giggles became a full belly laugh when housekeeper Malcolm walked in to help clear away some of the items we were no longer using and held up the previously huge bag of 8 kilos of rice and his look of horror to see over half of it had disappeared into tonight's menu. I couldn't help myself, it was a free for all and I just kept on and on pulling our two chef's legs until rather soberingly Olivia said quietly " Dave I think I have burnt the Dahl, can you give Magis a shout?.
With that I slipped quietly out of the kitchen and went to Magis's room and tapped softly on the door,
"just a minute!" I heard her cry,
The door opened and Magis immediately smiled "hello Dave what can i do for you ?"
"Magis we have a small problem, Olivia may have burnt the Dahl and there is panic in the kitchen, would you pop and have a quick look for me?"
"No problem Dave lead the way we will soon get this sorted" Magis immediately quipped.
With that this angel of the kitchen and my adopted mother (I had informed her) swept across the floor of the kitchen in a single bound, took control of the burnt bits and captured the rice before it disappeared down the hell that is burnt offerings to a room full of scholars, in reality that woman was only short of a cape and some Lycra with a huge red 'S' on her chest that night, she saved the meal and we subsequently dined like kings that night, I will never forget how she just calmed everyone down and got on with the job, what a fantastic woman, as I said she is now my second mum and she will have trouble getting rid of me !.
During all this time i had continued my trek into the unknown with the fruit salad and it was ready to go at just the right time, i was very proud of my side dish and fruit salad and took it as a compliment that it was all gone at the end of the night. The food was definitely a highlight at Moniack and yet again a very clever way of getting us all working as a team. I for one had the time of my life in that kitchen and will never forget the experience and I hope those who were there will remember it as a wonderful time also.
The food was very well received and we all enjoyed the meal, the thanks and cheers as always were very demonstrative and very well received.  After we had eaten we were introduced to a new member of our little gang for the night, he was Jonathon Farra, the well respected author and he was to be our guest speaker for the week, the night was still so very young, yet we didn't realise it....


......to be continued..

Moniack Mhor continued...

It is often said that one views past experiences through rose coloured spectacles and it is a fact that as we grow older it always seems that the past was always so much better than the present here and now. Sometimes, this may be the case, in my heart I know that even if I live another 50 years my visit last week to the Highland retreat inspired and run by the Arvon Foundation for new writers will remain one of the highlights in my life.
I sit here now with the rain beating against the windows and the wind howling outside while a small Scotch sits patiently to my left. The fire is crackling and spitting away in the background as it's heat penetrates the coldest of drafts and leaves them scurrying from whence they emerged. In short, it is a night for writing and thinking, both of which just happen to be pastimes I am passionate about.
Anyway, I digress, back to Moniack and Morag's closing talk during our Tuesday morning class.
"In short, believe in YOU and remember that bad writing is better than NO writing"
As she said that i wondered if she had already clasped eyes on some of the work I had submitted, the little voices inside my head doing overtime as usual!. Everyone was inspired after that first meeting, it's fair to say that there was a real buzz from what Morag had said to us, it's always the sign of a good teacher when you can receive critical comments about where you should be yet still be inspired to take on board all that you are being told and then act on it. Morag had that ability and also a passion for the written word and the correct use of it in large quantities, we were lucky to have her here.

We broke for lunch and all headed for the kitchen where a lovely light buffet was laid on for us by the housekeepers, again the food was excellent and the range impossibly good for the time they had to prepare it, I settled down to pate and toast with a side salad which was just perfect. A glass of red followed and that made it even better if that was possible. Our attention was then drawn to a notice board by Morag which had all our names on and a time against it. She explained that when the time against our name duly arrived we were to head down to the cottage where either she or John Aberdein (the second tutor) would duly ask us what our aspirations were for the week and what we were expecting from the course. We all looked at one another terrified and immediately sat down with our lunch and almost to a person grabbed a pen and started writing and making notes!.
 My appointment wasnt until three'o'clock in the afternoon so i took the opportunity to grab a quick shower as it was quite warm in the dining room and it was a great way to freshenen up, when i returned the room was very quiet as all the students had got their heads down preparing stuff that they would share with their tutor, not for the first time in the early part of the course did i feel a little out of it as the 'confident Mr James' had already got lots and lots of things to show his tutor and was sure they would be impressed at just how much work i had done in the past.
Three 'o'clock came around and i duly walked down to the seperate cottage that sat just below the main house, there was a large log store on the end of it with a sheet iron roof with logs stacked up against the house wall like an old stone wall that had been constructed with purpose and thought, the cottage itself was painted bright white with small windows that looked out across the Highlands like a shepherd would cast an eye on his flock, not to hinder, just to check all was Ok.
I knocked and walked in and there was Morag sat there with some of my work and John with some paperwork in his hand,
'so', Morag said calmly, "what do you want from this course?"
"To be honest Morag, I am stuck, my writing has become laboured, boring and I am struggling to get anything moving with any purpose, I want to find something new out of my poetry and then I have a book to write"
"If you want opinion I think you have had success too early and it has clouded the way you think" she said in a matter of fact way.
" I think you are absolutely right" I found myself bleating out almost straight away, "in fact I am almost a little flipant with my attitude and I need to get back to what pleases me not the audience".
Morag smiled a very warm smile, "You have so many cliches in what you have written, it has no edge and although you have an audience, I sense it's not where you want to be or that it's what you want from your writing".
I was overjoyed at what I was hearing, here I was miles from home, surrounded by complete strangers being criticised but also being told exactly what I wanted to here, this is what I had come to Moniack for, valid criticism and an honest opinion. Morag apologised "I am sorry if it's a bit of a hard comment to make but it needs saying", I was amazed that she thought there was a need to apaologise, "far from it Morag" I said still bubbling from the fact that at last I could get the critical honest opinion I had been seeking for so long, "far from it, I am happy that you have seen my work and have told me mostly what I already know, I have become far too comfortable in what i have been writing and i have just been churning out the same stuff time and again, cliches and all".

With that, I was set a task to write something fresh and new about a happy visitor to the highland retreat and a sad one also.
 As usual the "confident Mr James" couldnt wait to show his new mentor just how good he was at putting a poem together and I left the room full of hope and confidence that I could more than deliver the goods, I walked up the path from the cottage towards the main house and came across Hannah and Chris having a quick ciggy break.
 "How did it go?" Chris asked inquisitively
"I got my wrist slapped" says I,
"seems my writing has a few too many cliches in it..which is what i wanted to hear uncannily" says I.
"think it's time I had a glass of wine, you up for one?" I reproached,
"Think we will wait until we have seen the tutors!" came the dual reply almost at once, thinking about it that made perfect sense!.
I went almost immediately in to the house and grabbed my coat and slipped out of the front door and unlocked the truck and grabbed my walking boots and had a walk up the drive to the top road, where the view was simply stunning yet always seemed different. I said to Chris during the stay that the Highlands never seem to give you the same view twice, it's either foggy or cloudy or rain storms cover part of the mountains etc it's a continually rotating kaleidoscope of colour and silhouettes that are never still yet always beautiful and continually draw thoughts from your mind like a medium that requires no payment, it is completely without equal. I stood there again and just took in all that was before me, I would usually say at this point I was inspired, but that was not the case, it was a calming influence that filled me with a sense of my own worth and just how small my own contribution to this world really was, but that I still mattered.
It is a rule on Arvon courses that each student cooks at least once while on a course for their fellow students, we would be split up in to groups of roughly 4 and given ingredients and menu's and told to get on with it, the ever present in the background Malcolm however always helped out with making sure we had all we needed, a truly wonderful gent he was and he had the patience of a saint!.
Tonight Mages,Isobel, Nuala and I believe Rachel would cook for us, when I got back in from my walk i had gathered inspiration to write and noticed as i walked in to the kitchen this wonderful smell of baking hit me straight away, it was a wonderful rich smell of home cooked food just like I used to get when visiting my grandparents farm and entering the kitchen area, it took me back to a very bygone age and left me feeling very calm and chilled which in retrospect was not the best place to be when trying to write something new for an acclaimed author, more of which later.
Dinner was duly served at 7 pm and it was a feast fit for any mortal soul, it was fantastic and immediately got a huge round of applause from all of us in the room, we dined like kings and we scoffed on literature for the rest of the evening, truly it was a time of enrichment and great joy just to be amongst so many like-minded souls. During the evening John asked the group what book had we read that we most remembered and at once my lack of reading good books over the past few years again came to haunt me. When asked I spluttered a little and actually said that I was a philistine when it came to reading as my business life had taken so much out of me, but if i was asked which book had i most remembered reading from my childhood i said well, to be honest it was "Worzel Gummidge"... I expected a huge amount of laughter and a look of dismay on the faces of my fellow house guests and especially the tutors but I was forgetting this was Arvon, where you could just be honest, just be you. Hannah blurted out "ooooh I remember that!" and John nodded appreciatively, "well that is what it's all about, it's about what book has left an impression on you or you remember, it's not a contest". Once again I was amazed at being accepted so readily and not being the outcast, John had backed me up immediately and I was just amazed at the honesty and compassion shown by everyone in the room, Arvon had taught me a lesson that humility and honesty are the most important things a person can be granted.
 Our gracious tutors answered question after question that night, about their careers and what made them tick, how they came across subjects for their writing and how they managed to write so very well, it must have been very tiresome for them both but not once did they show it, in fact they stayed up late with us as a group and contributed to the evenings conversation with the patience and understanding that one would normally expect from a parent such was their attention to their new students, yet again I was humbled at just how much this course was teaching me, not just about my passion for writing but also just how good this course was at bringing the real person to the surface.

I retired to my bed a very happy relaxed man, having completed a huge chunk of my homework i took my laptop to bed and continued writing in to the small hours, grasping inspiration from my previous walk during the day, I penned what i thought would be a sure fire winner of a poem and then backed it up with another one that would not only gain me applause from the Nation but also a Pulitzer prize at the very least!...and it had all been done in under 2 hours!..how good was I?.

Tomorrow I would find out the truth...


To be continued...

Moniack Mhor ..The write of passage..cont.

....As the introductions continued I realised what a wonderful diverse group we were, all of us from such different backgrounds and levels of ability and an age gap from 17 to 67!, however seldom if at all, did this come to the surface during our week together, in fact I think it actually helped us all bond.
As the evening wore on and the introductions continued we discovered amongst us an English teacher an IT marketing consultant, retired executives an ex soldier etc, all with such wonderful tales to tell and all keen to share their own experiences and tales of writing or beginning to write, I was enthralled at how easy going everyone was and how well we all got along so quickly, something I am sure that Arvon Foundation design into the course from the outset, you are continually prompted to get involved without undue pressure and continuously asked for input and no-one is ever left behind.
After the wonderful colourful introductions were over we all had a glass of wine that loosened us all up a little more and the way the course would operate during the week was spelt out. It entailed a class that started at 10 am prompt taken alternately every day of the week by each tutor, our first session would be alongside Morag and would finish at 12.30, after which we would have some lunch and then have time to write and read and walk, before a 10 minute meeting with either John or Morag in the afternoon. We all had a great chat in the evening and enjoyed listening and talking about writing and books we had read etc, I myself had very little input in this last subject as, to my utter shame and disgust I have read very little but snippets since Animal Farm was first cast upon my attentive ears many years ago. I suddenly felt a little uneasy as I realised I was a long way behind my fellow students due to my continuous excuse of being 'too busy' to read books of quality, but if this was the case my wonderful new friends never let it slip, instead they would describe the plot to me and talk with glee about their own favourite bits of the classics, I truly came to realise just what wonderful people i was amongst.
All too soon bedtime came around and we bid each other 'goodnight' and sloped off to our beds. I myself am always a light sleeper and seldom require hours of sleep but this first night would be a little less full of sleep than even I usually like!. I turned the light off and dozed casually with my heavy eyelids just hovering over each other like a venus flytrap being teased by the juiciest of flies just millimetres from it's grasp, they clasped then opened, clasped then opened and for some reason my usual immediate 'hit the pillow' kind of sleep eluded me. It must have been about 2.30 am and i was still just lay there staring unconciously into the room when suddenly i felt a tingling sensation the likes of which i had felt before, it was all too obvious to me what it was all about and i froze for a few seconds, the feeling is similar to that of your pet cat or dog i guess when it's hackles raise at something they are unsure of and i had felt this many times before in old houses where there was a prescence, my heart sank, I thought 'oh no not here I don't want this' but almost as soon as those words had entered my head a calming influence at once put me at ease, call it stuff and nonsense if you like but I firmly believe if you open the doors of your soul to the world then open doors work both ways and you allow some other souls to enter yours. This was seemingly however, just an introduction from a spirit to say 'hi, i am here, i am glad you are too' and as quickly as it had let itself be known it was gone and uncannily almost at once, I fell asleep almost straight away.

The alarm went off at 5.30 am and i was already awake, so reached over and switched it off. Once dressed i slipped across the large dining area and lounge and got myself washed and ready for the day, I lit the wonderful log burner almost straight away with some of the smaller sticks sat in a wicker basket to the side of the fire, i struck the match and lowered it to the firelighter and instantly it burst into life devouring the smaller kindle sticks almost as quickly as i could load them, then i grabbed two rather large round dry logs and put those on top of the kindling and hey presto! one very warm real fire. Next was a cup of coffee all freely available in the kitchen with hot water always on tap via a worktop boiler, now, if there is something most people know about me then that is my love of THAT first cup of coffee!...heaven was there as i sat in front of the now crackling and spitting log burner and it's wonderful orange glow as it warmed my feet on the hearth, complete with caffeine, it couldnt get better could it?.
With coffee drank and spirits raised (no pun intended) I stepped out for a walk in the cool September morning air, the view was like nothing i have ever witnessed, red sky lying across mountain tops that reached for the disappearing stars like a forlorn lover leaps towards her doomed partner, so close yet so far away, the scenery was as breathtaking as the air was cold but the two seemed to co-exist in this place as if to remind you of the harshness of such landscape and it's embattled history. I put one foot on to the bottom rail of the five bar gate and crossed my arms and lent on the top rail and there i stood for almost half an hour. This indeed was a very special place.
Back in the cottage the next to rise was Chris, he and I enjoyed each others company very much over the course of the week, hardly surprising in a way because we were the only two guys out of the other 11 students but I think if even that had that not been a factor myself and Chris would have still gotten on very well, he had a wonderfully dry sense of humour, something we all saw much of during the week!. Hannah was usually up next followed by the effevescent Magis whom i had informed was my new adopted Mum, which made her warm face light up every time i said it and she would chuckle away while disappearing back in to her room.  Hannah disappeared for a quick cigarette along with Chris most mornings as the rest of the group appeared for breakfast, Heidi, who was from Switzerland and the eldest of the group would be the last to appear but that was because she was in the tutors cottage just below the main house, she had such wonderful stories to tell and was very attentive to everyone's plight but that didn't mean she would not put her own case across when it was called for!.
 Reluctantly, to a point, I had mentioned my little spiritual visit to Chris while we had a coffee and as is always the case in such a great group of close knit people it soon became common knowledge during breakfast, it got the usual raised eyebrows from many but not the ridicule that mostly greets such dispelled information, in fact tutor John exclaimed 'ya've had a wee visitor in tha nit ah hear?' which made me chuckle a little and i replied 'yes John, but it was merely a nudge to say 'hi I am here' though to this day i think he believes it was an over active imagination....maybe, maybe not.
The next hour or so went by and at 10 am we were all gathered and sat round the long table in the dining room with our pens and note books at the ready. Morag came in and sat at the table and we fell silent as she introduced herself again and gave us an insight in to our lesson for the day. This was indeed an eye opener as she commenced to dispel many myths and sayings that accompany the writing profession such as 'writers block' and the fabled 'inspiration' excuse.  It had us all captivated and keen to put in to practice what we were being told, so much of it made perfect sense when actually explained in detail and I remember thinking to myself just how much more there was to writing a book than just sitting there typing aimlessly to suit yourself.
The second half of the tuition was to involve something that is very close to my heart, it focused on our own self belief and told us despite our own reservations 'we were enough'. This last part of the sentence is something I have always chased down as i have never believed I  have ever been good enough at anything, my own worst critic with bells on. But here was a famous well published author saying simply that 'we are enough, don't let those adult thoughts sabotage your child-like free thoughts'. At once I could see freedom from so many restrictions that my own 'adult self' had put into place unconsciously. It was the spur we would all carry with us for the rest of the week..

to be continued.....











 

Moniack Mhor, the write of passage.

Well, here I am back after my visit to Moniack Mhor, venue for an Arvon Foundation writing course.
 I wasn't sure what to expect on arrival, in fact after a 9 hour journey from Shropshire I think I was a little travel lagged anyway so this just made me all the more sceptical.
I turned the Range Rover off the well beaten track alongside the ever formidable Loch Ness and headed along an unclassified road that just seemed so steep it could be a launch pad for the space shuttle, such was it's gradient, on top of that i chanced to look down while ascending said mountain and found it somewhat uncomfortable to see more of Loch Ness than I had wished to all in one go, considering I normally get vertigo on a shag Pyle carpet.
Despite all this i kept my foot on the accelerator and glided effortlessly upwards along the narrow single track road until on one bend (the sharpest of them all) I met a local farmer with his ubiquitous Land Rover and trailer, doing what all locals do...going rather too fast for my poor interloper reactions, needless to say, said farmer (obviously used to us townies wandering these roads in a state of confusion) mad a suitable swerve for the ditch and slipped past me with absolutely no expression on his face whatsoever.
Having survived the worrying view and the Formula 1 farmer i graced the top of the mountain with my presence, a full 1000ft above sea level or so i was informed and revelled in the wonderful views that accompanied my endeavours.  Such was the beauty of this wonderful vantage point that I scarce could drive any further, like some view starved tourist I jumped out of the truck and reached for my camera, taking pictures of such wonderful scenery of Lochs and wooded areas until i had the little red battery symbol turn up in the viewfinder to curtail my efforts.
 Getting back in the truck i sloped along the top of the mountain with now just my thoughts at what really was before me, did I really need to do this? surely no-one will take me seriously?I know i can write already, what could they teach me?... like a petulant little school boy who does not want to visit his old aunt or grandma, I was trying to use every excuse under the sun to convince myself to just turn around, go grab a local hotel for the week and just go enjoy the scenery.
 Fortunately, my right foot was braver than the doubting Thomas's in my head and I turned down the driveway towards the cottages at Moniack Mhor full of trepidation maybe, but found my growing need to answer the questions that have been in my head for so long allowing me the confidence to stride up to the door and walk right in.

"Hi" I said rather nervously to 4 women sat at the kitchen table, all chatting away happily having a coffee, for a minute I thought I had stumbled into a neighbourly cup of coffee between housewives and i was in the wrong place such was the warmth of all the smiles around and the ease at which everyone seemed to be chatting, but my fears were soon laid to rest when a lovely smiling face came towards me with her hand out, "you must be Chris?"
"err no I am Dave"
"oh I am so sorry we were expecting a Chris"
"Well I am Dave, Dave James" i commented rather sheepishly.
"Do come through and I will show you where your room is" she said with a lovely broad Scottish accent that just filled the room with as much warmth as the log-burner that glowed away in the corner could muster, little did I know but myself and that log-burner were to get very well acquainted during the week, but more of that later.
I was led through the main lounge area where a huge dinner table was all laid out for what looked like an upcoming banquet, the wooden oak floors made all the expected creaking noises that only they do as we traversed this long room towards a wooden painted door in the corner next to the fire place.
"You are in here" said my ever smiling guide, "it's rather a large room so you are very lucky" she said matter of factly. I thanked her and dropped my heavy bags on to the floor on entering and looked slowly around me, the room was very sparse, no carpet, no alarm or radio, definitely no TV and just a few 'dressing table like draws' with a loose mirror perched on top of one of them against the far wall. It was a typical old style farmhouse bedroom and I must admit to tentatively looking under the beds to see if the authentic chamber pot went along with it, thankfully there were 5 toilets in the house just across from the huge lounge so civilisation was here in some respects !.
I shook myself down and freshened myself up and then wound my way through the lounge around settees and chairs and made my second entrance in the kitchen, a cup of coffee was immediately offered to which my reply of "does the Pope have a Balcony" attracted a few giggles from one or two but not the full house I was expecting so as a little note to self I thought it would be best to be on my very best behaviour, although as it transpired that would be very much far from the case.

A cup of coffee always puts me at my ease, I guess it's the caffeine or the fact that it always reminds me of home, a warm fire and good company are the other factors to ease away any worries I have in new surroundings and here i found I had all three almost immediately.
Gradually as time wore on through the afternoon the other 'students' starting arriving from their far flung lives and families the world over, from Malaysia to Switzerland from Glasgow to West London, as diverse as any ensemble ever thought of, but all with the one desire and that was to sample life as a writer, selfishly and unequivocally for a whole week. The scene was most definitely set.

That evening we sat down for a meal, our first meal cooked by our wonderful house assistants who were always there in the background to answer any questions that may come their way, of which I suspect Malcolm was remembered more prominently, being the one who was mostly in attendance, he compered the evenings and was always just there when needed. The first evening meal was cooked by the staff of Moniack and we soon tucked in to a wonderful salad with roast vegetables, so welcome that it simply danced across our baying taste buds like a butterfly first released from the darkness of it's cocoon, it was indeed a delight, all the ingredients of a wonderful week had been put into place now, apart of course from one remaining item, an introduction to our tutors and of course an introduction from ourselves.
Our tutors, the renowned authors Morag Joss and John Aberdein welcomed us to the fold of writing with Arvon at Moniack Mhor with a reassuring talk that opened the doors of confidence in all our abilities almost straight away, they cut through all the usual inspirational jargon like the sharpest knife devours a juicy steak to it's respected size and weight for our consumer driven acceptance, not for these two giants of the literary world to sit smugly on their accomplished thrones and preach down to the 'infidels', far, far from it. They were gracious, fun, intelligent and above all else we could see they were passionate about what they did. We listened intently to what the course entailed and not a sound was made around the table as we all devoured our new 'masters' every words, they assured us along the way that though it may now seem daunting, they would be there to help and assist us in every way possible.
 Then, the moment came where John pointed around the room so that we could introduce ourselves, though this being Arvon it too was inspired as we were given pieces of paper and a pen and had to write about the person next to us to introduce them, we were asked our names our occupations and something extraordinary about ourselves. John sat slightly to the left of me the other side of the room and pointed to his left and said in a wonderful deep Highland accent,
'Tell yi wat, lit's ga roond tha tible tha sim wiy as the sun'
and with that he pointed to Magis on his left hand side, Magis was a Malaysian and was one of the more senior students, she had seen many things in her life, she was a wonderful woman with a heart made of the purest gold ever wrenched from mother earth's tough grasp, she was all things to everyone and an inspiration to me while i was on the course. She read out,
'This is Dave, he comes from Shropshire and he has already had a small book of poems published'
This statement was greeted with a round of applause that was so warm it brought a lump to my throat, I soon realised that whatever prejudices i had experienced back home when people were told 'i write' were completely irrelevant and not to be repeated up here in the land of the Moniack Mhor and the Scots.
Blushingly I accepted the applause, then I introduced the wonderful Magis to the rest of the class,
'This is Magis, she is from Malaysia and she has been a practising Dr for 37 years'
again the round of applause was as inspiring and warm as it was heartfelt, I soon came to realise that this was going to be a very special time for me and as the week panned out I wasn't to be disappointed.....


.....to be continued.

Believe in you..

I believe that beauty lies within,
That life can still be lived it's not a sin,
That hearts though broken mend in different ways,
And tears still write the tune the piper plays.

I know that thoughts can make or break a mind,
And love is better seen than taken blind,
That feelings make the man as he grows old,
And secrets should remain just that, untold.

For duty that requires a soul of steel,
Can leave you void of all that life can deal,
So stand your ground be mindful of your task,
A life's not lived if your behind a mask.

Write or run?

How strange life can be sometimes. Recently my writing confidence has grown in stature due in no small way to the lovely comments received from all over the world about my musings. That has been a very steep road to climb due to my inability to accept compliments for what they are.
So, it seems entirely fitting to my inner ever-blaming self that from a high of 250 hits a day my blog has received 0 hits in the last 2 days. Lots of soul searching and claims of 'I was robbed' later I actually came to a conclusion that surprised the hell out of me because i just thought  'who the hell am I writing for?.'

Truth is, I am writing for me, for my enjoyment and my relaxation, everything I write is my opinion and my view and if no-one wants to read it then that's really OK with me, the important thing is it's my statement and my views and my work and it isn't written for waves of appreciation from adoring fans, it's because i feel the need to write. That in itself is reason enough to continue and enjoy what I do. I read that Google has altered the parameters in some way as to the popularity and search priorities of sites and it has something to do with penguins.. well this is one penguin that won't be losing any sleep about less visitors outside his cage!.

Finding time to write is increasingly difficult for me these days, there are many things going on around me and they all demand my attention, I guess it's the curse of the self-employed. I have been self-employed for 22 years now and it's the toughest I have known it, people are shopping around and looking for bargains and using their money wisely, although that said there are still people out there that can and will spend without too much thought.  I try not to get involved in politics as the whole industry depresses me, I hate lies and politicians have made lying in public a recognised occupation. It would be so refreshing to hear the truth that 'they think we can't handle' a little more often but i guess the pattern is set.

So, that off my chest I will sit back and grab my coffee cup after writing this, swill down my last few gulps and head for my office and with no fear of anyone opening this document i can confess to all my sins and be released of all my burdens in life with no fear of them ever being discovered, even though it would make Christian Gray blush.
 Then again, if someone DOES read this it may be more prudent to just say thank you for bothering and please do slip by again... or should i just make a run for it while no-one is looking and take those secrets along with me forever ? !

No chance for me.

Weekends gone and work it beckons
Like the film in 60 seconds
Wife is making packed up lunches
Son's upstairs he's doing crunches

Daughter's holed up in her room
itunes blaring favourite tune
God her ears they must be ringing
Mine are from her bloody singing

Cat has gone to walk it's round
And see what food is to be found
Dog is curled up on the mat
He's missed his stroll the lazy twat

Wife sits down with glass of red
And magazine she's mostly read
Reflecting on her tiring day
And wonders where's her Mr Grey

While I am sat just contemplating
Why this life i've started hating
Dreary dull and without spice
A life long shift that's not so nice.

Dare i dream of far off places
Different scenes and different faces
Not a chance I have to say
There's no such thing as Mrs Grey.

The start of another week, Monday is always faced with trepidation, but on the whole I guess it's reputation is far worse than the reality.  I am facing a step into the unknown in 2 weeks by sloping off to Scotland for a week on an Arvon course, it consists of a cottage in the middle of nowhere with 3 published authors who will guide you through your literal ambitions.
I am looking forward to the challenge it brings and even more so the opportunity to step from life's treadmill if only for a brief period. There is also the real fear that I may find out that writing is something of a small hobby rather than something I am committed to, the question mark is there, though my sheer enjoyment from putting pen to paper is blissful.
I hail from a background where praise was something you gave other people, never something you received. I am and never will be good enough in my own eyes and that is inbuilt regardless of ability or lack of it. To people who have the confidence of knowing their abilities and accepting them my comments must seem very immature or at the very least ridiculous but the truth is it's a habit and as we all know habits are hard to break.
Once back from my course I hope to be able to edit and finalise my first attempt at a novel called 'a sense of duty' which is a story that has semi-biographical parts and the rest artistic licence, so i hope i can do it justice. As for my poetry, well i love writing it and it needs only one nice comment to make my day so i will continue with it and hope that you the audience like at least some of the work.

Enjoy your Monday and remember not to take life too seriously, after all none of us get out alive ;)

Dare?.

So what am i to write today upon this canvas bare?

That I am fine, OK with life?,  as if you really care,

String sentences profound as such, that tell you all is well.

Whilst heart is shouting dare it might, in truth I am in hell.


Be still my demons for a while,  bring forward silence hence,

They prey upon my very soul dispel such innocence.

I stumble through this sorry life as if caught in a spell,

Revolving faster evermore no exit can't you tell? .


No sanctions thus am I dispensed, no respite so allowed,

And stand I broken many times before the baying crowd.

But deep inside the angst of life that haunts my waking hours,

A flicker of what I could be, a glimpse of different powers.


Though life it tells a sorry tale such glimpses glow then fade,

For paths that I must follow hence have clearly so been made.

I would complain and rightly so, a noise to wake the dead,

But fear i walk amongst them now so live with them instead.


So dreams that wane upon the dusk eternal in their truth

Will haunt this life through chances missed as i lived out my youth

Life takes the forms of challenge thus to push me to my limit

If I'd been born with all those facts... would heart dare to begin it? .

The Angry Crowd.

Peck, peck, peck,
Judges all
A chorus of tuts
The stoniest of wall.

I told you so's
A squadron of guilt
Shaking of heads
Scorn to the hilt

Inside I hear nothing.
Just faces around
Fingers all pointing
Without any sound

For I am away
To hill's in the mist
To tallest of grasses
That dew slowly kissed

Warm summer's sun
The scent of the Earth
My world complete
Regardless of worth

So look on with anger
Crush me at will
Massage your conscience
.....I am here still.