Calling all best men…or women

This week’s creative writing homework is to write a wedding speech for one of the following:

- a young, innocent couple

- an unsuited couple

- an elderly couple

- a couple marrying for the fifth time (presumably not to each other, but that does give me an idea)

Although I’ve been to lots of weddings, I’ve never had to make a speech.  I’ve heard some pretty awful ones, and some good ones.  I need inspiration.  I can’t see this being anything but a comedy piece.  Do you agree? What would you write?

Have you made a speech at a wedding, and if so, have you got any tips about what worked and what didn’t work?  Have you got a story of sitting through a terrible speech or a fantastic one?

Anything you can share would be appreciated!  Oh, and because I always like to include a picture, here’s one of my favourite photos from my wedding.  Where I most definitely didn’t make a speech!

 

On being a not very good vegetarian and drinking wine

Three threads have combined in my head to form this blog post.  I’ll try to bring them together as smoothly as possible, but forgive me if the ride is a bit bumpy.

Firstly, I read this great post on being vegan by Miss Snarky Pants (how can you not love a blogger with that nom de plume?).  Hah!  I thought smugly.  I know my limits.  I would never try to be vegan, as I know I would fail.  Instead I will concentrate on being vegetarian, because I know I can do that properly.  We’ll come back to that.

Secondly I read this great post on animal welfare by DeDe at Rumpydog.  Again, my response was couched in smugness.  I am a vegetarian.  Of course I don’t do anything that would harm animals.  We’ll come back to that later too.

Third thing is this: as we approach the end of January, I am reflecting on how well I did with my January challenge.  My challenge was to cut out alcohol completely for a month, as an intro to generally cutting down.

Now, whilst I’m not the type to consume vast quantities of alcohol in one sitting, I have gradually reached the point where drinking a moderate amount of wine has become an almost-daily occurrence. I certainly have a relationship with alcohol that I wouldn’t want to admit to on a life assurance proposal. I have been trying to tell myself that this is normal, lots of people live like this, a small amount of wine each day is actually good for you, and if I ever got to the point where I had to stop, then I would.  Trouble is, when you reach that point, it’s usually too late.  So to my January challenge.  Could I cut it out for a month?  Well we’re not at the end of the month yet, but I already know that I haven’t been totally successful.  I have succumbed on two occasions.  But the consumption for the month has dramatically reduced.

I won’t say it’s been easy, especially on evenings when my husband has been enjoying “my” wine!  But there have been some great benefits. I’ve lost 3 kilos (which is about 6.5 pounds for those of you who use old money), making me officially plain overweight instead of obese, and this in a month where I’ve been on a (successful) one-woman mission to finish off all the Christmas chocolate, and invented some really great new excuses not to go to the gym.  I’ve discovered it is possible to start watching a tv programme after 9pm and stay awake to the end.  And I’ve saved a shed-load of money.

In spite of these benefits, I can see myself slipping back into the old ways if I don’t pay careful attention.  So pay careful attention I shall.  I’m not going to give it up for good, but I am going to cut down. A lot.

Now back to the vegetarian bit and my attempt to draw these threads together.  One thing that’s hard about being a vegetarian is that there aren’t any rules, apart from the obvious not eating anything with a face (I think that’s attributable to Linda McCartney).  There are no vegetarian ten commandments.  There are no oaths of allegiance.  There’s a lot of stuff you have to figure out for yourself.  So, lacking in that basic guidance, I realise on reflection that I’ve not been such a good veggie after all. I’ve probably unwittingly eaten pastry made with lard, vegetable soup made with chicken stock and chips fried in goose fat.  Who am I kidding?  I lived in France for ten years, I know I will have done those things.  (See my previous post on the joys of being veggie in France here.) And yet on no occasion did the vegetarian police emerge from the kitchens brandishing cucumbers, ready to arrest me.  I have not been thrown out of the vegetarian society for these transgressions.  Because really, as Miss Snarky Pants already figured out, it’s all about me and my conscience, and finding what works for me.

One thing I’ve really been burying my vegetarian head in the sand about is wine.  I’ve not even let my conscience go near this one.  You see most wine is not vegetarian.  Animal products are often used to clarify the wine and improve the appearance of the finished product.  Now if I can’t justify the killing of animals for my food, I am being a hypocrite if I will put up with it to create a nice-looking bottle of wine, especially as non-animal alternatives are available.    The more I think about this one, the more my conscience prickles.

The difficulty is knowing when animal products have been used in wine production.  There must be somewhere I can find out, as it’s not obvious by reading the bottle.  I don’t recall ever seeing “suitable for vegetarians” on a wine label.  But I’m going to try to find out.

So here’s what I’m going to do for DeDe and Rumpydog: seek out vegetarian wine.

And here’s what I’m going to do for myself: drink less of it.

Right, now what shall I do with all that money I’ve saved?

How about you?  Have you struggled with being a vegetarian or vegan?  Have you resolved to change your habits this year and if so, how is that going?

Images courtesy of Rumpydog and FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I liked the book, OK, now leave me be!

Here’s something you probably already know about me: I love reading books.  Here’s something you might not know: I hate telling people what I think about the books I’ve read.  Now I can understand that this might surprise you, given that I am a frequent user of BookCrossing, Good Reads, and belong to local reading group, all of which allow, nay, expect or even demand me to express my opinion on the books I have read.  So what’s my problem?

I think it stems from my school days and the seemingly endless requirements to write book reports.  No matter how much I had enjoyed the book, I never enjoyed this activity, and have never learned to.

When I finish reading a book, I don’t mind saying that I loved it, or liked it, or thought it tolerable, or detested it.  Scratch the last one, if I detested it I wouldn’t have made it to the end.  I will tell a friend to give it a go, avoid it like the plague, or buy the movie rights.  More than that I cannot or will not say.  I have friends who write amazing reviews of books, especially on Good Reads.  They say all the right words about language and character development and what the author meant and other clever stuff.  I just can’t do that.  At best I manage a a brief synopsis of what the story was about.

And yet, as I approach the half-way point in editing my NaNo novel, I realise this kind of feedback, the kind I am incapable of giving, is exactly what I am going to have to ask of some guinea-pig readers.  It hardly seems fair of me to ask, does it?

I would also love to be able to write glowing reports of books I have read, reports that would encourage others to read the book, by way of giving some good publicity to the author, especially if the author isn’t well known.  Instead all I can manage are banalities along the lines of “great, loved it, read it, you won’t be disappointed.”

I’m trying to figure out if my problem is not so much that I am incapable of writing a decent review, and more that I just don’t want to share my thoughts with anyone else.  Or maybe I’m just shallow, and the “great, loved it, read it, you won’t be disappointed,” type review actually does encapsulate the entirety of my emotional and intellectual response.

Whatever the problem, I need to work on this, and start writing some decent reviews, especially if I am going to ask the same of others.

How about you?  Do you review the books you read, do you find it an easy thing to do, something you enjoy, or do you do it out of a sense of duty?

image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Father Peter, the Snow, the Angel and the Lost Day

I have a day off work today.  Just using up some holiday, no special plans.  So I decided to give myself what Peter Jones in How to do Everything and Be Happy would call a Boxing Day. That is a day for me, with nothing planned in advance; a day where I just go with the flow of whatever I want to do.  So far I have watched the snow falling, re-read the section in my photography book on how to capture great snow pictures, had a big breakfast and wasted some time playing on line games.  Correction, that was not a waste of time at all.  I was then overcome with a desire to do my creative writing homework, which, given that I have another three weeks to complete it, is unprecedented.  The theme for this piece was a lost day.  Here’s what I’ve written, let me know what you think:

On his last day on earth, Father Peter conducted the matins service to a congregation of precisely no-one, unless you counted the angel hovering in the lady-chapel.

The lack of congregation was nothing unusual, especially not for a snowy Monday morning in January.  Even the presence of the angel was not a first.

The angel had first appeared to Father Peter precisely one year earlier, and had informed him, matter-of-factly, with no build-up whatsoever, that Father Peter had exactly 365 more days left on earth; it was time to start putting his affairs in order.

Until today, Father Peter had been relatively calm about his impending fate.  Although he didn’t think of himself as old, he considered he’d had a good innings. Retirement was looming, but with the prospect of spending it alone, it wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

As Father Peter ended the service with the blessing, the angel moved into the transept.

“Peter, have you remembered the message I gave you last year?” It asked.

“Of course.”

“And are you ready to meet your maker?”

Peter hesitated.  “I think so, but, well, I’m a bit scared. I don’t mind that my end has come, but I’m worried that the process might be, umm, painful.  I’m a bit of a coward in the face of pain.  I wish it could just be this time tomorrow and the whole business behind me.”

“As you wish,” said the angel, smiling enigmatically and floating up into the high vaulted ceiling, where it disappeared.

Father Peter locked the church up and returned to the rectory.  The ladies should be arriving soon, for their regular tea, cake and gossip meeting, otherwise known as “planning the church fair”.

The rectory was strangely silent.  Fluffy the cat was nowhere to be seen.  The ladies didn’t turn up as planned, and after half an hour Father Peter was worried and started to ‘phone around.  ‘Phones rang and rang without anyone answering.  Looking out of the front window, Father Peter realised that he hadn’t seen anyone walking through the village since he left the church.  He turned on the radio, and then the television, but picked up only static on both.

As he walked into the kitchen, he thought he could hear the echo of laughter, and the faintest whiff of coffee cake.  Absent-mindedly, he reached for a portion of cheese from the fridge but found it strangely without taste.

What was happening to him?  Had he died already?  Was this the afterlife?  If so, this surely couldn’t be the reward for many years of dedicated service to the church.  He must be in the other place.  Out of habit, and with a mounting sense of panic, he started to pray.

“Father, what has become of me?”

The angel appeared from the larder, surreptitiously licking the remaining crumbs of coffee cake from its lips.

“Father Peter, at your request, I transported you 24 hours into the future to avoid the moment of your death.  Is this not what you wanted?”

“No!” Father Peter replied, “I don’t like it here, where is everyone else, what has happened to Fluffy and why does my cheese taste of nothing?”

“I am a very low-ranking angel”, the angel replied, “I brought you 24 hours into the future, but didn’t have the power to bring the rest of the world with you.  Everyone else is still in your yesterday.  Occasionally you will catch glimpses of them, when a sound or taste or emotion leaves an impression strong enough to linger for a day, but you cannot communicate with them.  On the bright side, you’re still alive.”

“What is the good of that?” Father Peter asked. “I think I’d rather be dead!”

As he finished the blessing, Father Peter was distracted by the sensation that his mind had wandered whilst he had been pronouncing the words, but for the life of him he could not remember what he had been thinking.  The angel watched from the lady-chapel as Father Peter packed up, locked the church, walked across the graveyard and stepped onto the road, straight into the path of an on-coming lorry, as it skidded towards him through the snow.

images courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos,net

Hook Line and Sinker

Just in case you are here under false pretences, let me start with a disclaimer: this post has nothing to do with fishing.

Rather, I’ve been thinking about the subject we discussed in my creative writing group this week: the opening line. We were presented with a pile of about ten books (we meet in a library so that’s easily arranged) and asked to discuss the opening line of each. We decided to put the books into three piles, based solely on the opening line:

• Those whose first lines screamed “read more” to us
• Those whose first lines screamed “stop right there”
• Those whose first lines left us feeling unsure if we would continue or not

It was hard to judge the first line in isolation, given that we knew what the book was. If you want to try this exercise, I suggest you ask someone to copy the first lines of books and hand you the words alone, without any other clues.

The results certainly surprised us, both in terms of what we would like to read more of, and what we immediately dismissed.

Our favourite first line was:

“Stavros had chosen to be celibate”.

We were immediately intrigued and wanted to know why he had chosen to be celibate, who he was, why he was called Stavros, and even if he was he just kidding himself and he so unlucky in love he’d decided to pretend it was intentional. That’s a lot of questions on the back of six simple words.

Our least favourite first line was:

“Ursula and Gudrun Brangwen sat one morning in the window-bay of their father’s house in Beldover, working and talking”.

We didn’t like the names of the characters, thought there was both too much information and too little happening in the first sentence, and our attention wasn’t in any way grabbed.

In spite of our pre-conceived ideas, we put Fifty Shades of Grey on the “read more” pile, as the first sentence isn’t bad, although the words do seem to be in the wrong order: “I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror” (I understand it all goes down-hill from there, in more ways than one). We also surprised ourselves by putting Dickens (Bleak House) on the “don’t read this” pile, and a Stephen King on the “maybe” pile.

Our considered opinion was that the best first lines were the ones that made you ask “why”. So how much importance should be put on the first line of a novel? Does the first line really influence your opinion of the book, and would you ever decide not to carry on based on the first line only?

This is of course of interest to me as I edit my WIP, the first line of which reads as follows:

“Ellie disappeared the day after our 18^th birthday party”.

I hope there’s something there to pique the reader’s interest. Does that make you ask “why”? Would you read on?

Oh, and without googling, can you name the novels/stories from which I’ve taken our most and least favourite first lines, quoted above?

image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos

Let the editing commence

When I finished NaNo at the end of November, I promised myself a month’s break from the WIP (work in progress, as I’ve learned to call it) before I started the very necessary task of editing.  I also promised I wasn’t going to blog about it any more, but hey, one promise kept out of two isn’t bad, is it?

True to at least some of my words, I’ve come back to the WIP after a month’s break, in which I’ve been reading all the editing advice I can get my hands on.  I’ve had two revelations so far:

“La Jumelle” is a rubbish name for a novel.  I know, I know, so many of you told me this already, it’s foreign, it puts people off, no one will get it and so on.  I suspect I was unwilling to accept this before because I couldn’t think of an alternative.  But now I think I have a potential new title.  My story is about Evie and her search for her twin sister, Ellie, who disappeared many years prior to the start of the story.  Until the story starts, Ellie’s absence from Evie’s life didn’t concern her unduly.  Suddenly Evie finds herself thinking about Ellie, and is on the receiving end of clues to Ellie’s whereabouts, which she follows, but she never quite gets to the right place on time.  So I’m thinking of “Missing Ellie”, which I think works on at least a couple of levels.  Any thoughts?  My husband already said it’s too predictable, so don’t worry if you’re thinking the same thing.

The other revelation is that I have done it all wrong.  Seriously.  I wrote it in the third person, thinking that was the proper, serious, grown-up novel-writing way to do it.  Having re-read just a short portion, I can hear Evie calling out to me to let her tell the story in the first person, telling me that this is the only way her character will really come through.  That will take so much more than just a quick edit.  I think I can do it.  There aren’t many scenes which Evie doesn’t appear in, and it shouldn’t be too difficult to rewrite the ones where she isn’t involved.  But really, do I want to do this much work?  Especially on my first ever attempt at a novel, when I have no idea if what I’ve done so far actually merits spending any more time on it?

Any advice would be gratefully received!

image from FreeDigitalPhotos

3D or not 3D?

By way of a Christmas present this year, Phillip and I decided to pool our money and buy a new TV. Bear with me if you think this isn’t the kind of thing I normally blog about. It will become clear why I’m telling you about this. We didn’t strictly need a new TV, the existing model was fine, and as I can date its purchase to shortly after we moved into the current house, I know it’s just coming up to seven years old.

When we chose the old one, I was all for something larger, whereas Phillip wanted a more modest-sized screen, and quoted, as he often does, that in interior design, everything should be in proportion. Add to that the fact that his style is, let’s say, minimalist, I knew I wasn’t going to win the argument. (I’ve been told that in most households, it’s the male partner who wants the bigger TV, but we aren’t a very traditional couple!)

Seven years on, and with a nod to deteriorating eyesight, Phillip conceded that a larger TV wouldn’t look out of place in the room after all. Things have come on in the world of televisions, and so our new model not only has a 46″ screen, it connects itself to the Internet, has all kinds of apps, and the feature which fascinated me most, is 3D.

I thought that this meant you could use it to watch films made in 3D. But there is more to it than that; it will also display in 3D films and programmes which were made in 2D. I was amazed! I donned my pair of silly black glasses, sat back and prepared to be wowed.

It hasn’t worked out quite as I imagined. Sure, there are some wonderful effects to be seen. Shots from cameras panning over vast expanses of countryside, or around cities full of tall buildings certainly are breathtaking. However, I find myself switching back to the old 2D five minutes into most films. You see, for me, those breathtaking shots are a novelty, certainly, but they are also a distraction. Now those of you who know me, will know that when I read a book, the plot is paramount. I read because I want to lose myself in a good story.  Why am I surprised to find that the same goes when I am watching a film? Again, I want to watch a great story, one I can lose myself in, not one where the medium is distracting and I’m constantly aware from the stream of objects seemingly flying out of the TV screen and disappearing over my left shoulder that I am watching the television.

I don’t doubt that the 3D effect has its place, perhaps in documentary, science and nature type programming, but as far as I’m concerned, I don’t want it spoiling my enjoyment of a good film by reminding me that I am watching a film. Maybe I’ll get used to it, but I’m sceptical.

How about you? Do you have. 3D TV, and if so, what do you watch in 3D?

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Eating my peanut butter-coated words

I’m not a great one for introspection, reflection, evaluation, or similar naval-gazing type activities which seem prevalent as each year draws to a close.  However, I do want to tell you how the past year has seen a major shift in my thinking about two important items.  The first is peanut butter.  Quite simply, I used to hate its salty-flavoured cloyingness.

I bought some in anticipation of my niece’s visit in June, knowing it was a favourite of hers (she must get that from her father’s side of the family), and out of curiosity, tried a spoon-full.  Oh my, how I loved its salty-flavoured cloyingness!  There has been no looking back.

The second major turn-around concerns the kindle.  First of all when I say “kindle” I really mean any form of electronic book. The kindle was the first I became aware of, so tends to be my default name for the device.  Other forms of e-reader are available.

Now, if you’d asked me back at the start of this year what I thought of kindles, my answer would invariably have contained the words “evil” and “wrong”.  Here are just a few reasons I would have given you, if asked why a kindle was no substitute for a book:

• I love touching a new book, flicking its pages through my fingers, knowing I’m the first to do so;
• I love holding on to books that I know I will read again and seeing them lined up beautifully on my bookshelf;
• I love giving away books that I know I won’t read again (I’m a bookcrosser – click the link if you don’t know what that entails);
• Getting a book published is hard, therefore books must be good; anyone can upload any old rubbish to Amazon, therefore e-books must be rubbish (before you say anything, don’t worry, I have come to understand the flaw in my logic here).

I wanted nothing to do with this new-fangled piece of gadgetry and the threat it seemed to pose to by beloved books.  I told this to whoever would listen, whenever I could.

The only problem was that authors whose previous works I had read and enjoyed had deviously started publishing straight to e-books, for various reasons.  I came to realise that I was the one suffering as a result of my stubborn refusal to engage with the e-book; I was denying myself the possibility of reading new books by firm favourites like Linda Gillard.

I finally caved in and downloaded the kindle app for my iPad, along with a few inexpensive novels, just to see how I got on with it.

My conversion wasn’t anything like as rapid as the peanut butter road to Damascus moment.  It was more gradual, as I slowly came to appreciate the positives of this reading method. Here are just a few reasons I would give you now if asked why a kindle can be *gasp* better than a book:

• instant gratification – a couple of clicks and I have a new story ready to read – and in some cases, a story I couldn’t get my hands on any other way;
• simultaneous knitting and reading – page turning is much easier with the kindle;
• reading at the gym – at least on the bike, and sometimes on the treadmill, if I don’t go too fast.  It’s not much good on the rowing machine;
• reading whilst lying in the sun (not that I’ve had much experience of that this year) – it’s so much easier to hold the iPad in a comfortable position than it is a paperback.

I’m not afraid to admit I was wrong; there is room for a kindle in my life.  I won’t stop buying paperbacks, nor will I stop leaving them in strange places when I am done with them, but they aren’t going to be my only source of reading pleasure from now on.

How about you?  Do you use an e-reader, and if so, did you take to the concept immediately or was it something you had to get used to?

image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos

The Liebster

My blogging guru, Vikki at The View Outside, nominated me for the Liebster award last week, and I have been remiss in responding – sorry Vikki.

This award comes with responsibilities!  I have to:

post 11 random things about myself;

answer 11 questions from Vikki;

pose 11 new questions to other bloggers (and let them know I’ve done so);

post the Liebster award picture.

The last of those was the easiest! 

Let’s tackle the others.  Here are 11 random things about me:

1. I haven’t eaten meat for over twenty years.

2. My favourite colour is purple.

3. I have tiny, baby-sized feet.  It’s a miracle I can stand up.

4. I can easily lose myself for a whole day in a good book.

5. I loathe celery.  And marmite.  Present me with a marmite-laden celery stick and I will tell you everything.

6. I love singing.

7. I have a hole in the top of my head.  I feel nauseous if anyone touches it.

8. I am allergic to cats and to an as-yet unidentified winter plant.

9. I am a terrible snob.

10. I have lived in 13 houses.

11. I fail to see the point of towns which are not by the sea.

Next, here are the questions from Vikki, and my answers:

1. Are you a punctual person or are you usually late?

Punctual, verging on the early.  I hate being late.

2. How many hours a week do you spend watching TV? Now come on, be honest!

Probably about 15. Is that bad?

3. What do you wear in bed?

Depends how cold it is!

4. In a heated argument do you walk away or keep at it until you’ve had the final word?

I am stubborn and always like the last word, however I dislike heated arguments. It’s a frequent dilemma.

5. How many times a day do you look in a mirror? Come on, you can tell us.

Really? No idea!  Whenever I am anywhere near one, I suppose.

6. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?

Turn the alarm off.

7. Do you consider yourself lucky?

In the big things yes, I have a wonderful husband, friends, roof over my head, job, no worries about where the next meal is coming from.  In the little things, no, it always rains on my holidays, I don’t win raffles, that kind of thing.

8. Do you fear death?

Not my own, unless it’s going to be horribly painful.  But I do fear the death of people close to me and selfishly worry how I will cope.

9. What are your top 3 pet peeves?

Apostrophes in the wrong place

Signs like the one I see leaving the M25 which says “for Gatwick, use both lanes”.  HOW? Should I straddle the two? Weave between them? Gah! Say what you mean!

People who rush to the departure gate and STAND IN A QUEUE before the flight is announced.  IT WON’T LEAVE WITHOUT YOU!

10. What character in The Wizard of Oz are you most like?

The Scarecrow.

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

Actually rather a lot.  Maybe 30 pairs, and I don’t think I’m a clothes kind of person.  So how did that happen?

OK, on to the next part.  I have to think of 11 new questions for bloggers to answer.  Here they are:

1. What was the last book you read?

2. What do you like about blogging?

3. What are you wearing on your feet?

4. You win £10/$10 in the lotto and spend it on yourself.  What do you buy?

5. Who was the last person to annoy you?

6. What did they do?

7. I have the power to change one thing about you.  What would you ask me to change?

8. How often do you look at your stats to see how many people have read your blog today?

9. Are you looking forward to Christmas?

10. Do you make New Year’s resolutions?

11. Paper books or E-books?

I’m going to nominate some of my blog’s followers who I don’t know.  I would love to know a bit more about people who take the time and trouble to read what I write.  If you are one of them, I hope that’s OK with you. Please feel free to ignore this if it’s not your kind of thing. Here are my nominees:

 

Evan at Thebettermanprojects

Dianne at Dianne Gray

Laura Ann at The Magpie Poet

Nick at Talkin’ Shit

Richard at Richard Kurniawan

Fabi at My Italian GF Table

Shannon at Shannon A Thompson

Daniel at Words Form Windows

Christine at Texana’s Kitchen

Colgore at Prana and Peaches

Audie at SkirtsandShirts

The last is a bit of a cheat – Audie is my second cousin twice removed (I think) but we’ve only met a couple of times so I don’t really know her!

 

Crazes

Having successfully finished with last month’s writing extravaganza, could I put my feet up and have a rest from writing this week?  Not likely; I had my creative writing class this week and of course I’d left it until the last minute to do my homework.  The theme was “crazes” and we were supposed to write a descriptive piece about a craze we had indulged in as children. Descriptive pieces aren’t my forte at the best of times, I’d much rather write a story.  Add to that my inability to recall any crazes I’d been interested in and you’ll appreciate that I found this one quite a challenge.  I had a quick look at Google to see what kind of things I might have been into as a child and found possibilities such as hotpants, space hoppers, chopper bikes, Simon, Mousetrap, Barbie dolls and the Bay City Rollers (no prizes for guessing my age).  OK, I remember all of this.  I might even have owned or played with or listened to some of them.  But I couldn’t honestly say I’d had a craze for any of them.

I asked my parents who were similarly stumped.  Mum mentioned that my sister had a bit of a thing about Cary Grant, but she couldn’t remember anything I’d particularly been into.  So it sounds like I was a fairly dull child. Great.

In the end I wrote about ice skating, which is something I certainly spent a lot of time doing, but I’m still not sure it qualifies as a craze.  I struggled to write a description and not a story; it was definitely one of the hardest exercises I’ve attempted and I’m not happy enough with the outcome to share any of it here.

How about you?  Do you remember any crazes you were into as a child?  Care to share?  Is that the kind of writing exercise you’d complete with ease or would you struggle too?

As I’m not sharing anything I’ve written today, I will show you my other creative achievement of this week. I started knitting this jumper last winter but didn’t finish it, and I really didn’t think I was going to like it.  I picked it up again this week and have just finished it off, and despite my reservations, I’m really rather pleased with it.

Of course, now I think about it, I did have a bit of a craze for knitting as a child!