This is what happened

So, Sunday evening went really well. Once I'd calmed down. And I didn't panic too much even when I forgot my lines in the middle.

The evening went like this. First on was Steve Aston and band (one man) (I can't really comment on what he was like as I was in a place of terror at that time) followed by me reading Wendy Cope poems and some poetry by friends. Then it was the amazing Scotty, a singer/songwriter. Husband said she sounded a little like Tanita Takara (but I've never heard of her and think husband may have dreamt her). More me reading a poem and some prose of my own creating. Followed by the fabulous Captain Cat & the Sailors. I'll post some video of them later on today (when I get back from slimming class).

The audience wasn't huge but they were very receptive to the singers and to me - keeping quiet while I read which was amazing. I was afraid I was going to have to go and slap people if they carried on talking ...

The evening raised money for Love146, an organisation working to rescue children caught in the sex trade.

And, do you know, when Dan at the end asked me if I'd come back and do it again, I did it again: my mouth said, 'Yes!'

Unplugged

I began my 'set' with a couple of poems by Wendy Cope.

Performing

At unplugged, at Red Cafe, Mumbles, on Sunday 31st October, 2010.

There is a God!

Chris spent last night with his head over the toilet bowl.

(See earlier post, He is so going to get slapped.)

'Revenge is mine,' saith the Lord.

Raptured away

I saw Janet arrive in church this morning and then saw her go upstairs to take Sunday club with the children. I looked out for her afterwards to ask how her holiday had been - but she'd didn't reappear.

The only explanation I can think of is that the rapture happened and Janet was the only one taken.

(Some Christians believe that before the world ends, or Jesus returns, or the thousand-year war, I'm not sure precisely, that Christians will be sort of whisked away to heaven in a cloud. This is what's meant by the Rapture. So if Janet's the only to go church is in a sorry state. Although we wouldn't expect Chris to get there, would we?)

Not a natural born shopper

Yesterday I went into town early before the hairdressers so I could look for boots and a new coat. I lost interest after about half an hour.

I've intended to buy boots for the last three years but couldn't be bothered to to go and try any on, so, yesterday, I made a special effort. I went into the shop and tried on 2 pairs. But wasn't convinced.

And now I'm thinking: do I really want boots anyway?

I also didn't get a coat but I have ordered one that I may like.

Meanwhile Husband went to Sainsburys on his own! I didn't even give him a shopping list. I said, 'You've been coming with me for long enough; you should know what to get by now. And you can plan dinner for the next few nights; I've done it for 32 years so it's your turn.'

He was a little bit anxious so I did write down a few things I knew we needed and then sent him off while I was in town. And he seems to have done all right. Except ... he got to the checkout and discovered he'd left his wallet at home.

He is so going to get slapped

In church this morning Chris reminded people that unplugged was on at Red Cafe tonight. He said, 'Scotty's playing and Captain Cat & the Sailors and' - at this point he looked straight at me - 'it'll be a great evening.'

I confronted him afterwards and he said, 'Well, I didn't mention you because we want people to come.'

I wonder if Carol Ann Duffy, Poet Laureate, has this trouble.

Next time ...

... I have a 'bright idea' I'll keep my mouth closed until I've thought about it. Or better still I'll send it straight back where it came from.

It was me who suggested to the organisers of unplugged that a poetry bit would be a good addition. And me who said, 'Yes, of course,' when they said, 'will you do it for us then?'

But thanks to people here and on facebook for their encouragement and ideas I've decided on my 'set' and I'm not going to change my mind again. Remind me I said that when I start dithering and saying, 'should I do this instead?'

I'm off to the hairdressers this afternoon - a girl has to look good for her public - and, instead of enjoying a supply of Hello magazines, I'm going to learn one piece off by heart.

If these butterflies in my stomach would just pupate everything would be hunky-dory.

But GrandDaughter's crawling!

She did a couple of steps when we were with her on Wednesday but today she's really taken off. Daughter sent us a video to see. Poor Holly Dog's life is going to be a misery.

She's one year old next month (November). What incredible joy she's brought us in these eleven/twelve months. My popsit, my delight. I love her to bits and back.

I'm performing!

Remember a few weeks ago I said that I'd volunteered to read at what is normally a music event? Well, it happens this coming Sunday evening at Red Cafe in Mumbles.

And I'm trying to decide what to read. So I ask Chris and he suggests Roger McGough. This is:

a) not very encouraging to a writer;

b) not showing a lot of faith in my writing;

c) defeating the object? I'm not a performer; I'm a writer who reads.

I ask Husband and he says, 'What about Pam Ayres?'

What is it with these men?

A few weeks ago I was supposed to be going to a Creativity in Church event but couldn't at the last minute but Chris told me that the speaker had almost reprimanded musicians for not encouraging writers, actors, visual artists and dancers to take part in the worship.

We have a writers' group in Linden and over the years I've tried to encourage people in it to bring writing, if it's appropriate, along to the Sunday morning service to use during the meeting. And I've tried to lead by example.

But each time I have an inner battle and have to convince myself that it's not showing off. Which is very odd. I don't for a minute think the musicians are showing off when they play, sing, do solos or their own thing. It's perfectly normal and acceptable for them to use their talent or gift. So why is it any different for writers?

The answer is that it isn't. It just feels as if it is.

I've always said that I can be assured when I read my writing aloud because my confidence is in my writing not in me. So I should be looking forward to Sunday evening. But right now any faith I had in my writing has dropped to an abysmal low.

And my stomach is in a tight little knot. Not helped by the tension of the day in work. I need to punch something.

Tony for a tenner

I don't have any problem believing that Cherie Blair sold Tone's signature on ebay; what I find hard to believe is that she refunded the price paid. Of her own accord.

That must have been the influence of the PR people.

Church in a pub - where have I heard that before?

Just been listening to a fabulous version of In the Presence of The Lord - I have finally found a way to live in the presence of the Lord - by Eric Clapton and Stevie Winwood. Banksyboy posted it over on his blog.

His blog led me to In Christ Alone and also to waving or drowning? as mentioned in my last post, and to think about the secular sacred divide - or not.

I'm not a great one for Christian books - even though I'm a published author of Christian books - and much prefer a good novel, and I really enjoyed the Susan Howatch Starbridge books. After the initial series she continued to use some of the characters in books that vaguely followed on from each other but could be read individually with no loss of context or meaning. My absolute favourite is The Heartbreaker. It tells the story of the redemption of a male prostitute. It is potent evangelism by another name. (I have no idea whether that is the author's intent.)

Just using the word 'redemption' makes it sound like a Christian story but I am fairly certain this book won't be found in Christian bookstores: the language and descriptions are far too prurient. But then you probably don't get many non-Christians in Christian bookshops ... and I suddenly find myself wandering into another arena hosting the same argument when I'm not even supposed to be blogging anyway; I'm supposed to be finishing the bedroom.

But one last thought. I've been helping in the community cafe today. A few doors down is The Antelope, a once flourishing and popular Mumbles pub, now empty and up for sale. And I'm thinking to myself: now that's what the church needs to buy ...

Waving, drowning or possibly both

Husband is currently insulating the greenhouse with bubble wrap but I persist in my belief that we are not in the least odd.

I went to visit a new blogger (Waving or Drowning?) today and he returned the compliment. He has some splendid posts about Christianity; I am talking about false boobs and being semi-naked in the forest. I feel I should run after him and say, 'I'm not usually like this,' but I'd be lying.

False boobs and goggles

It's scary on top of our wardrobe.

With the false boobs, thigh-high black leather boots, size 9 gold stilettos and WWII pilot's goggles, if you didn't know us you'd think we were odd.

Not to mention the pistol.

Killerton collage or How Great Thou Art

Using the calories

I'd like to make it clear that I was pulling the pushchair UP these steps! It was a mild day and as I began removing layers Husband got excited at the prospect of reaching the top of the hill with a semi-naked wife. Which probably explains why his offer of help was not very enthusiastic.

He and GrandDaughter thought they deserved a cream tea outside Killerton tea shop after all their exertion.

Dinner tonight

Steak and mushroom pie. Mmmm.

What kind of idiot ...

goes to the library without her glasses?

But it was all right. As long as I stood well back from the shelves i could read the authors and titles. So I had to choose names that were familiar and titles that weren't.

I've ended up with Fannie Flagg's Can't Wait to Get to Heaven and Victoria Hislop's The Return. I've read lots of Ms Flagg's books and Victoria Hislop's first novel The Island was recommended to me (but they didn't have that).

I have a theory that in Swansea Library more books with authors who have surnames beginning with early letters of the alphabet are borrowed than those written by P. G. Wodehouse for example. Just because of the way it's laid out. By the time I get to H I am suffering from a surfeit of choice.

Made it!

I hit the 9 st mark in slimming class this morning. And that was with my clothes and shoes. Yay!

So I'm well within the healthy weight for a woman of my age and height. My BMI's 21 and visceral fat (around organs) 5%, so all well and good. So good I've just eaten 2 date flapjacks to celebrate.

That's the trouble: when we celebrate we usually go out to eat, have a special meal or munch chocolate. And we bring our children up saying, 'if you're good I'll buy you sweets,' thus indoctrinating them in the same way. If you're good you can have an apple doesn't have quite the same effect.

I'm sure there are lots of other enticements that trendy mums use - like a handful of sultanas or sunflower seeds - bleurgh. But the good thing about this diet I've been on is that it's encouraged me to use a smaller dinner plate and eat less, and it works: I'm generally eating less.

If I can just maintain it for life ...

Desiccate is one of those words

You see I knew it wasn't right.

When I typed it I thought it was wrong but dessicated is one of those words like occurring where I'm never sure how many of anything there should be. So when Blogger didn't pick it up as a spelling error I assumed I must be wrong in thinking it was wrong.

I should have trusted my spelling instinct.

I found desiccated leeks down behind my vegetable rack.