Friday comes all too soon. Moniack Day 5.

Sitting in the lounge area of the old cottage that is Moniack, I reached across for my coffee, book in hand, sat cross legged on the sofa, feeling very happy with myself, not in a smug way but more in a self belief way, I had learnt so much in the last few days and my writing had improved along with my attitude towards it. I suppose I felt more humble as I had been brought down to earth with a bump on the back of Morag's words at that first meeting and it really was the catalyst for the rest of the week, it grounded me and helped me take a step back from what I was doing and re-evaluate the way I approached my work, this is something I now carry with me and is a great game plan in everything you do, not just writing.
The dinner was being cooked and I decided that maybe a stroll would be a great idea so I headed up the driveway once more and looked back at the wonderful view that always greeted me. I stood there a while and studied the little village across the valley and watched the cars going backwards and forwards and people coming in and out of their houses and driveways, I felt completely detached from my normal way of life and felt intrigued and almost guilty at watching people go about there normal working day while i was stood miles away, just watching. It was a very strange yet calming experience, to be up there looking down while people busied themselves with life, I felt very privileged. I lent on my five bar gate at the top of the drive once more, foot on the bottom rail as always, the air was by now becoming cooler and the wisps of steam from my breath could clearly be seen as i slowly exhaled. A mist was rolling down in to the valley and i could here people's voices, tractors and dog's barking miles in to the distance, their voices and noises being carried along the sloping edges of the valley though by now the tips of my fingers had started to feel the cold and I thought it better to retreat to the warmth of the cottage, this was a magical time and even better, I knew it was. I have never appreciated what I have in many ways but at just that moment on that very day at that very place and time I was rich beyond my dreams.

The Dinner.
It was to be salmon tonight, I must admit I am not the world's greatest fish lover but now and then it's quite refreshing. Rosie and Gemma and Hannah were already wading in to the cooking by the time I had reached the warmth of the cottage from my walk, the smell of dinner was fantastic as i walked in and I headed for the lounge with the usual cup of coffee. I opened the wood-burner door and piled two logs on top of one another and let it draw for a while so that it would heat the room a little quicker, soon there was a bright orange glow as the dry logs burst in to flames so i backed the burner off a little, the heat was so good, so soothing, the sound of the logs crackling away as i sat there engrossed in my book was enough to make me feel quite sleepy. At that point Chris came in and offered me a glass of wine, which was very much appreciated, we chatted for a while, I really got on well with Chris, he was very laid back and we always had something in common to talk about.
Tonight the tutors would read from their own work straight after dinner, we were all very much looking forward to that, over the past few days it was fair to say that we had grown to respect their work and their judgement in most things and we all hoped that we had not been too much of a disappointment to them in what we had produced or gotten from the course. The dinner was, as always exceptional, Arvon's idea of getting people cooking together is a sure fire way of getting everyone involved in the course at some point and it works perfectly. We raised a glass to the night's chef's and retired ourselves to the settees strung around the lounge with a glass of wine apiece or water as was our poison and settled in for the night.

Morag was first to read, she had chosen an extract from a new up and coming novel and we sat with baited breath as she started. As expected it was executed brilliantly and was so full of detail and suspense that we could have sat there and listened to the whole story from start to finish, she isn't just good, she is very very good, her talent in putting you right there in the middle of the action is incredible and when she had finished we applauded loudly and for a long time, deservedly so.  John was up next and he read from his book that is based about some of his upbringing, it's an insight into the hard way of life he knew as a lad and was absolutely stunningly delivered. His wonderful broad Highland accent giving the reading that extra credibility that was the icing on the cake, again we could have listened to him all night, if you get the chance to buy some work by these two greats of the literary world then please do it, you will not be disappointed.
A huge round of applause rang out for John after he had finished and again it was heartfelt from us all and very much deserved, we had been treated to a wonderful evening's entertainment that was twinged with sadness as we all knew tomorrow was our last full day at Moniack and we would all be parting on Saturday morning.

Friday. Day 5. The last Full day.

The alarm went off on my iphone as it had the last few days here at Moniack but this morning it was more poignant, I knew it would be our last full day here and it was very much tinged with a sadness. I jumped out of bed and slipped across to the bathroom, the old oak floorboards in the lounge creaked away under feet as i tried desperately to be quiet, it was still only 6:30 so I didn't want to wake anyone up. Duly washed i went to the kitchen and poured some hot water into the coffee pot and left it to brew as I went into the lounge and lit the log burner. I grabbed my coffee out of the kitchen afterwards and came back into the lounge, I just sat there for a few minutes in the silence, coffee in both hands staring at the log burner and appreciating the warmth of it's fiery glow. I have to admit i had a small lump in my throat at the thought of this being the last day, the sadness only brightened by the fact that I would soon see my wonderful family again very soon and the thought of a few hugs warmed me through even further. As usual Chris wasn't far behind me getting up and even apologised for not getting to the log burner more often during the week, something i assured him he didn't need to do as i had actually quite enjoyed lighting it each morning !.
As everyone woke up and arrived in the kitchen there was a different atmosphere, one of the realisation that this would be our last full day together and we had all enjoyed it so much the sadness was not easily hidden.
I grabbed my boots and headed up the drive, once again I got to 'my' gate and slipped my one foot on the bottom rail and folded my arms across the top rail and just stood there in the cold morning air gazing across the mountains. From the cottage a lone figure in a blue shirt came out from the kitchen door and started walking up the drive towards me, from the distance I could just make out it was John Aberdein, he slowly walked up the drive with his hands in his pockets, stopping now and then to turn around and look at the view.
"g'd morning Dave" he said in his usual Scottish drawl as he approached me at the gate,
"Hi John" I said, "it's a fine morning for a walk and taking in the view"
"Aye it is that, we could be in trouble now we' given a poet a gate ta lean on"
"Hahahaha I guess you may just have a point John, perhaps i am looking for that extra bit of inspiration"
"Well it's a great place ta git it from"
John went on to tell me about his exploits in the highlands and how he had walked to the source of the river that ran through his home town,
"I may ne'er get ta tha source of tha Nile or tha Amazon but a'hve been ta the source of tha river that i was brought up nixt ta, that's good enough fa me"
I sensed I was in the company of a very thoughtful, very deep and very principled man with a great sense of right and wrong, a very proud man with strong values, I was indeed fortunate in this life to have made his acquaintance.

With that John carried on with his walk across the top road  and I walked slowly towards the cottage down the drive. Today's classes would be starting with a tutorial at 10 a.m with John. We were looking forward to the class as he was an excellent teacher with great insight and was always very understated.
We sat around the table with our books and pens and John sat in the middle of all of us, as usual his lesson was lively, interactive and a mine of information, his passion for teaching and writing as obvious as it was profound, he was an inspiration to us all and as always the lesson was over all too quick.
At the end of the lesson John reminded us that it was tonight that we would read from work we had completed and drawn up while at Moniack, a thought that filled most of us with dread, but before we broke up for dinner Kelsey was to read her work as she was off to a wedding later tonight and would miss her opportunity to address us all as a class, so we settled down and listened intently.
Kelsey's story was based around the evacuation of a family to a storm shelter as a Tornado headed their way, it was compelling and written beautifully, you could have heard a pin drop, when she had finished, a resounding cheer and round of applause rang out around the walls of the cottage, John broke the applause by saying "Da ya see hoo far ya've all come in only 5 days?.. that was jist brilliant Thankya Kelsey" he was clearly pleased with the progress we had all made and indeed we as a group were astounded at how much we had learnt and how well we had all gotten on.
After lunch a few of us did some reading while listening to some classical music we had managed to find in the CD collection in the lounge, Heidi in particular enjoyed every minute of it, but as it got to around 3 pm we all decided to utilise my vehicle and head for Loch Ness for a mini-break for an hour or so...

.....to be continued..

The after dinner guest..Moniack 2012

Full bellies, log burner glowing in the corner, good company and the prospect of listening to a talk from acclaimed author Jonathon Falla, no wonder the word contentment is the most used up here in the Highlands, especially when you combine it with the Arvon experience for first time writers.
The food was a hit and we had all ate very well, the curry and fruit salad combination hitting the spot first time. As we cleared all the plates and dishes from the table the four of us on dinner roster smiled and laughed with each other when the subject of rice was mentioned, which it was, time and again!. The previous few hours in the kitchen trying to get the rice just right and then Mages intervention is still even now the stuff of legends.
We all congregated in the long dining area and lounge and loaded ourselves with drinks so that we could sit back and listen to what promised to be a wonderful night in the company of John Falla about his intrepid journey's and writing. Malcom stood up and introduced John who was sat at our end of the long dining table facing us all as we sat on the loungers and settees.
"It gives me great pleasure to introduce John Falla to you, a man who has written plays for the BBC and even wrote a comedy, the only one to date about famine in Africa, he has trained as a Dr and has worked  in all the far flung places of the world and also been inspired enough to write books about his experiences..."....this went on for about ten minutes, I must admit I was astounded at just how much this guy had done, inspired even, so I thought this really was going to be a very special evening.
John sat there and said the usual thanks and said how good it was to be with us all. He started the evening by reading some of his latest book and we were quite enthralled by his style of writing and his anecdotes. he was most definitely a character and seemed very self assured, it did go on a little bit and then just as we thought he was wrapping it all up John grabbed another book and exclaimed,
"This little excerpt will take about 15 minutes"
You could almost hear a pin drop and it wasn't for the reason John was thinking. You see, to carry off a long speech and keep the audience satisfied and attentive you need to do one of two things, either give them a break time or involve them. Unfortunately for John he was so engrossed in what he was saying he lost complete track of time and we were to all intents and purposes bored. Terrible I know and I feel bad even saying it, but he had lost the audience. On top of that he then proceeded to give us a sure fire way of how to write a book in 3 easy steps.. you could almost feel the sighs from our guest authors one of whom John Aberdein had already fallen asleep..
So there we were all sat down and cornered by our guest speaker who didnt know where the 'off' button was and one of our tutors fast asleep on the settee as he spoke, to borrow a well known phrase, you really couldnt write it.   After what seemed an eternity John finally wrapped up and it was down to the dutiful Malcolm as ever the gentleman to say thank you and raise the obligatory round of applause from the audience, who by now needed the toilet and the bar, in that order!
I stood up and threw another log on the log burner and was aware all of a sudden that John was busy signing copies of his books which he had conveniently brought along with him and immediately i thought what a nice thing it would be to actually buy one and get it signed and i duly joined the queue. Surprisingly John didnt say hi to me in the book he just signed his name which i thought was a bit odd but no matter. We then all sat on the settee and grabbed our poison, be it Scotch or wine and talked to John about much less mundane stuff like when did he first become inspired to write etc. To my surprise John was a whisky drinker, he and I kept apace glass for glass and i have to admit i was impressed, he also loosened up a little from his 'parochial preaching' role and became quite affable. We talked about life and parenting and social issues along with Rosie (who was from County Tyrone and such a sweetheart) and Gemma (the youngest on the course at 17 with a mind as sharp as a razor and a writing ability so natural and raw it was staggering) along with Chris and I think Olivia too. We all fired questions across to John who was by now well relaxed and like me, suitably full of whisky when I think the reply of the week came from Gemma when John retorted,
"You know I love to go to places no-one has ever been to then write about them because no-one knows if what you are writing about is right or wrong"
Quick as a flash Gemma replied from over the top of her ever present texting on her Blackberry mobile,
"Have ye ne'r her da Google?"
Stunned silence for a few seconds.. then the conversation slowly continued, with muffled laughs emanating from areas of the room where once silence reigned, it was a beautifully timed, honest and quite legitimate question Gemma asked but as usual her timing and sharp mind just doubled the impact, it was the highlight of the night, though to be fair to John I think he was a little nervous and probably not used to such a small audience in such close confines, it's fair to say he did what he thought was his best but in the end the consensus of opinion was that he hadn't involved us all enough and at times was a little patronising to what basically was an audience the vast majority of which were professional people in their own right.
As the night wore on it was down to John, myself and Rosie talking away and drinking into the samll hours, Rosie went for bed and myself and John decided perhaps it was time to curtail the Scotch and in any case I had a bit of writing to do, to say the least so bedtime it was.
The next morning as usual I was up and about at 6 and lit the fire and went into the kitchen to grab that all important first cup of coffee, while everyone was dozing I grabbed a quick shower and then went for a quick walk again out into the wonderful countryside. It's quiet beauty was astounding and all encompassing, it attacked all, yet none of your senses, it let you be what you wanted to be, it's input neither too much or too little, this was indeed as close to paradise for a thoughtful mind as you could get. I stood for a little while, I am not sure just how long and just as you would do in a piping hot bubble bath just soaked in the moment and loved every second.
Walking back down the drive and opening the kitchen door  I saw Chris was up and about and just tucking in to his toast while our guest speaker entered the room and headed staright for the coffee pot. Hannah wasnt far behind and she and Chris did the exit kitchen left for a cigarette routine and left me alone in the kitchen with John, who after a good night's sleep had lost none of his confidence or ability to tell me how good thing's were in the world that is John. Thankfully the other students all started to wander in and a knock on the door signalled the arrival of a taxi to take John to the airport. We all said our polite goodbyes and wished him well, after all we were professional people if not professional writers.

TIME TO WRITE.
By the end of breakfast I was fully aware that I had yet to complete something meaningful for my meeting with John Aberdein at 3.10 pm that day, the fact it was 9a.m and nothing had been accomplished at all, not even an idea meant i really was starting for the first time in my writing career to doubt I could actually put something meaningful on to paper. My writing book was a mess of scribbled out sentences and redundant cliches, I was having a torrid time trying to just be me. As Morag had said the day before," if it's too easy you are not trying hard enough", how those words would haunt me during the day.
10 a.m came and we gathered around the table to listen to Morag's second lesson with ourselves, it promised to be a cracker and Morag didnt disappoint. She is an excellent thought provoking writer with an exceptional teaching talent, keeping us all on the edge of our seats and involving us with projects and short clips of writing throughout the tutorial and i remember that last lesson with her in charge as a high spot of my week in Moniack, she really does have an exceptional way of teaching and there was never a moment where we were not engaged in what she was saying, the sign of the very best of teachers.
At the end of Morags lesson I had been inspired to write my piece. I had topic, character and plot, all from just talking through and about a short story and character production with our resident tutor, inadvertantly she had given me the inspiration for the piece I was to present to John Aberdein that afternoon and I set about constructing it.
Sat outside after lunch i beavered away at the piece of writing that i would present to John that afternoon, it was to be completely off the beaten track for me and was to be written with thoughts of extinguishing all the usual cliches I had used and be a very different step from where I had been the previous few months, it was nip and tuck as i had printed the verse only 2 minutes before my meeting with John. I tapped on John's door and walked in, his ever present warm smile put me at my ease and I handed him my work, somewhat nervously.
John looked at the poem i had shown Morag the day before and said "this denny work Dave, It's all too full 'o' yon cliches an it nay makes far gud readin'.
I agreed whole heartedly and i pointed to the second piece I had written and asked if he would read that while I was here, this is the poem i wrote as my second piece,(I kept my more off the wall piece back just for now), it was meant to be a man returning to the highlands seeing the view and being unhappy with himself..something Morag had asked me to do.

Despicable me is all I see,
Midst landscape heaven sent
Of distant views a parting ruse
This poets last lament

A sadness born in human form
Deleting natures fayre
Translation lost amidst my storm
Though few bar me would care

Yet still inspired, I won't grow tired
Life's beauty and it's beast,
All layers peeled my fate is sealed,
No chance for nature's feast.

So wretched as a cancer grows,
Engulfs my thoughts and dreams,
Breaks stronger men than I will know
And tears my very seams.

John worked his way through the poem and pointed out a couple of things, I listened intently, his voice was not quite as critical as Morag's but his tone was as determined in it's process. We made some adjustments on the work and he asked me to read it again, he got it, he liked it. It wasnt a huge step and I knew that but it was a piece of work with more thought and depth. I then handed him the piece I had written ignoring my usual poetic preferences, inspired partly from watching my gran as a child and partly from a character we had invented in Morag's earlier lesson. John read it and then stopped silent. "I am nay getting it Dave, culd ya read it ta me"... my heart sank, but I summoned the courage to read it. When I had finished he nodded in agreement, this was more like a step in to something different, something new, something from deep within my thoughts. He was pleased for me, I was pleased for me. Here is the poem:

Bess.

A dress that speaks of life,
The frayed edges hang like bar codes
Spelling out her past.
Bess was content.

Her flowing auburn hair a distant memory,
Now replaced by black and white,
The colours of her age.
Bess was content.

Half way down her nose her glasses sat,
With flour coated fingerprint etched lenses
Betraying this morning's cooking
Bess was still content

Soft slippers now where once heels were worn,
Her stoop a testament to such fashion
The hips a little broader now,
Bess was still content.

Here she was, all that she could be,
A wife, a mother, a nurse, a listener, a lover
But all the time that dress said more than that
Bess was still content

Then in the background voices came to life,
Such laughter only youngsters make,
The door flies open "Mum we are home!"
Bess just smiled that smile... so content.

I thanked John and left the room, though I had only just begun this journey into changing my views and the way i write, I knew from this day on writing would never be the same for me ever again, I had doors opened for me that I could never have imagined and it was all thanks to the wonderful adventure that Arvon allow you to step into. I went back to the kitchen, grabbed my mug and sat down and if i remember rightly the coffee tasted extra good that afternoon...


To be continued.......

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 ;)