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 |   A tentative blog to test the temperature. |
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Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end. So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.     |
| Amazons and Archaeology Today has been all about archaeology. Not the usual sort involving spades and fine brushes but lots of digging around in my virtual history. It all began at 2:30am when I faced the fact that I wasn’t going to get any sleep until I went to the computer and started some research into a book that I needed to read before I could venture on a project for a particular WdC contest. Obedient, as ever, to these late night urgings of my brain, I rose and staggered through to the computer. The next few hours were spent in reading other people’s thoughts on the particular book that formed the object of my quest. Ultimately, it appeared that, contrary to my hopes, it was not yet out of copyright (in which case I would have been able to find it for free on the net). It had been interesting learning about others’ opinion on the book, however. I gave up and went back to bed just as the world outside was growing light again. Later this morning, I was tapping away dazedly at my computer when Andrea, my wife, enquired about my early morning adventures in the book quest. I explained and she became annoyed. Although she is always aggressively economical when it comes to her own desires and needs, she does not like it when I display the same thrift. “I’ll buy you a copy,” she declared. “It can be an unbirthday present. How much is Amazon charging for it?” “About three bucks and a few cents,” I replied, “but there’s no need…” “Oh, for goodness sake,” she muttered as her fingers flew over the keyboard. “There you are, the Kindle version only costs a dollar.” “You know I don’t get on with that Kindle thing,” I said feebly. “”Kindle version - any device can read it.” “You mean even my computer?” I was a little surprised at how technology had progressed since I bothered to look. She said nothing, apart from announcing that she could get it for nothing since she had some credits from an earlier purchase. In a few minutes I was advised that I should have a new email from Amazon about my present. And so my adventure with Amazon commenced. Click here to download your present from Andrea, maintained the email. I did so and was presented with a pleasantly designed page with the details of the relevant book and another button that promised to deliver said book. I hit the button, only to be advised that This item is not available in your region. That was ridiculous since it had been sent from exactly the same region. After some pondering, I realised what the problem must be. I must somehow have found my way into my old amazon.uk account and it was assuming that I still lived in Old Blighty. Andrea suggested I start by forcing it into my later American account. After a bit of struggling and getting extremely annoyed with Amazon, my computer and life in general, I managed to get the thing to look at my more recent version. It still came up with the insistence that I couldn’t open my present in my region. It seemed impossible to make Amazon forget anything it had once learned. I updated my address. It made no difference. It was clear that Amazon had decreed that I was never to receive my unbirthday gift. I gave up and began to consider what other book I could use in my WdC project. At which point, Andrea took over. She sent another, identical, gift to herself, then threw it from her computer to mine and opened it on my computer in some weird Kindle-reading device that lived in the cloud, apparently. Or maybe the book now resided there. At any rate, I now have access to the darn thing and can read it without even leaving my beloved friend, my computer. You know, I used to be pretty “up” with these technological matters and, at one point, even built myself a couple of computers. But I was lost in the very different American computer world and fell behind on the latest developments. My growing ignorance was exacerbated by my refusal to have anything to do with cell phones. So now I am dependent on my wife’s considerable expertise in that area. I can keep up in the basics but, when it comes to the really advanced stuff, I have to yell, “Andrea!” Where would I be without her? Word Count: 752 |
| Self Quotation My good WdC friend, runoffscribe  , stores his most memorable sayings in a file and shares these occasionally in his Newsfeed. It was on reading one of these that I was reminded that I have sometimes lamented losing most of my pithy inventions over the years through my sievelike memory. I resolved to begin a similar file and did so that very day.As a result, I now have a small collection of self quotes. Although they are not as good as those I have forgotten (inevitably, since the ones that get away are always the biggest fish), they might serve to fill the occasional gap in the blogging calendar with a brief amusement. So, without further ado, here’s the present selection: Be yourself. No matter how hard you try, you'll never be anyone else. Wisdom is a waste of time. There's no money in it. What's done is dung. Death is what gives life its flavour. Writers are at their most romantic when considering their own situation. The cliché is best defined as the tired and true. Too many cooks spoil the broth. Unless you're making cook soup, of course. Caught like a deer in the head lice. They also serve who only stand and wait for you to order from the menu. This is all brought on by Lilli 🧿 ☕  ’s
Word Count: 253 |
| Wide Angle or Telephoto I was looking through my portfolio this morning and it struck me that I write about almost everything. There’s none of that dedicated concentration of the specialist evident in my work - it’s just all over the place. When asked what I write, I always answer with fantasy but that’s a lie. I only write fantasy when I’m really trying. Otherwise it’s either whatever the present contest demands of me or those weird things that parade themselves through my mind (like this that I’m writing now). Naturally, I wonder whether this says something about me as a writer. Years ago, when I still had dreams of being a famous painter, I submitted a few drawings to the annual exhibition in a particular national gallery. When they were rejected, I asked a friend of mine who happened to know one of the judges if he could find out the reason. He came back with the information that I was too inconsistent. I had yet to find my style, apparently. This came into glaring focus when I considered the work of an artist of about my age who had been accepted for the exhibition. He did pastel drawings of shoes. That’s all - just drawing after drawing of shoes. Obviously, he had found his style. Well, I sneered at his shoes and carried on without regard for the thoughts of the art world. And, shortly thereafter, writing won out in its competition for my attention with art. But, every now and then, I have a sneaking thought that maybe that judge was right and I am too diverse in my interests and focus to ever make it big in the literary world. Not that it bothers me - my ambitions in that area have long died and I am satisfied with whatever I produce. Which reminds me that today I ventured for the first time into the genre of comic verse. I managed to write something that I’m quite proud of. Indeed, I think that it may be the best thing I’ve written since the dreaded writer’s block captured me after the completion of the Wonderland Challenge. That’s what I think now, of course - in a few days I may be able to see it in its true colours. If you like (and if you happen to be reading this), you could judge for yourself by having a read. It’s quite short, I promise.
Word Count: 399 |
| Suitcases A while back, an anonymous benefactor gave me the right to have one of those little pictures on my suitcase. I chose the silhouette of a typewriter and, for three months, my suitcase sported an extra snippet of information about me. These days, of course, it should have been a computer keyboard but it wasn’t on offer. And anyway, I typed my first half-novel on my mother’s tanklike Imperial so it was pretty emblematic of my development as a writer. At the end of my three months of glory, the typewriter disappeared and my suitcase went back to the pristine bright yellow that I had earned in the meantime. In comparison to my illustrated suitcase, this now leapt out as a fierce, yellow headlight next to my name but I was never going to pay real GPs to renew the pic. I became used to the brazen symbol of my status. And then along came the Quill awards. Now, I haven’t made a fuss about these, although, to be honest, I did win a couple and garnered an Honourable Mention too. But, since the subject has arisen, let me list here those products of my labours that now boast the coveted Quill (or HM). Quill for Best Spiritual/Religious - "If (with apologies to Rudyard Kipling)"  Quill for Best Nature - "A Tiny Black Beetle" HM in Best New Portfolio It was while I was reading the lists of Quill results that I realised how useful was my proud yellow suitcase. Those few of us yellows who had no picture stood out like bold little suns in the lists. I didn’t need to look through all the names - it was sufficient to pick out the yellow perils and then see which of them were mine. It saved a lot of time, being able to pick myself out so easily. So the true value of the suitcase colours and designs is now revealed. Yes, they are status symbols but, more importantly, they’re a quick identification marker in the sea of WdC hopefuls. Finally, here’s a vaguely related gem I found amongst my self quotes: Caught like a deer in the head lice. Word Count: 354 |
| I may regret this but I have allowed The Bard's Hall to twist my arm into starting a blog. And I was so convinced that I would never blog again. But this WdC creature is not quite the same as those I was doing before so... And this entry begins my first entry into "The Bard's Hall Contest!" |
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I've always remembered that episode and thought that was a fun idea.
Quite good is quite a good compliment 
As someone who just reviewed an item in your port, I can't help but wonder, Did I pick an item that you'd throw out? 
