Haven’t posted for a while as Christmas is tough on people with ME/CFS, among other people - the work involved doesn’t stop just because you’re exhausted! Anyway, I hope that you all had an enjoyable festive season, and that 2012 will be a positive year for you.

It’s time for my recap of the year. I used to always do this on the first page of a brand new diary, when I was a teenager, but now it’s the blog! The start of 2011 was a cold one and a sad one for us: our first dog, Holly (who I took my writing name from), died on 18 January, aged 12. I was with her when it happened and it was heart-breaking. She was one of the family and we miss her every day. We could never replace her, but felt the need to get a puppy. We had no intention of getting another tri-colour, but it seems that Ivy chose us. You can keep up with her advertures at http://ivythecavalier.wordpress.com/

Aside from welcoming Ivy in to our home, there were lots of good things such as new babies within the family and plenty of engagements amongst friends and family - 2012 sees us celebrating with 3 soon-to-be-married couples so far. I love weddings, though I’m feeling the pressure of being a Matron of Honour (how old does that make me sound). I worry that the ME/CFS will make its presence felt. We’re happy that our friends have entered the final phase of their wish to move to New Zealand, but will miss them a lot. I value my friends, as so many disappeared over the years. When you can’t socialise, you find that you’re no longer included in people’s lives. Sad but true. In the summer, we went to see Mrs Browns Boys with my parents - it was hilarious. I haven’t seen my dad laugh like that, ever. In fact, I didn’t think he was capable. Needless to say, we booked tickets for this summer’s show too. There are lots of milestone birthdays and celebrations due in 2012 - a 30th, a 21st and a 40th anniversary, to name but a few.

Last year, I tried to volunteer to do some things that I felt I was able to do. I can’t say it’s worked out as planned, as I’ve been sidelined (which actually makes me feel worse than not been accepted as a volunteer). On the positive side, our annual fundraising event for Marie Curie was very successful, with the support of fantastic family and friends. It makes me feel good to do something for others as, so often, I feel useless for the things I can’t do. Nice to be able to help.

I discovered that my publisher was no longer in business - can’t say I was sad for them, but I was for the staff and the other authors. This made me look at writing again, so I am still in the process of trying to turn Karma in to an e-book. I’m glad it belongs to me again. I also took a big step and signed up for a creative writing class. I didn’t know what to expect, and I’m very uncomfortable in reading my work aloud, but I was pleasantly surprised. It took a few weeks for the group to gel, but I like it (though I do wish it was an afternoon, rather than a morning - I really, really struggle on a morning). It resumes in January, and I’m seriously considering returning. I’m also contemplating my own version of NaNoWriMo in January, to get me focused on novel 2 - it may not happen, but I’m going to give it a go. Then it can be an e-book too! I’m also still working on my degree. It’s very tough, as I’m unmotivated and fnd it difficult to concentrate. I can’t attend tutorials, due to the CFS, and I almost quit when I discovered there was an exam. My ability to retain knowledge is terrible - I used to have an almost photographic memory, but now find learning difficult. I just want to prove to myself that I’m still the person I was before the CFS made its presence felt!

I’ve been invited to do some things and my instinct is to say no, but I had hoped to try and do more adventurous things (mundane to you, adventurous to me). I haven’t made resolutions, but I do have an ongoing Wish List, which I re-evaluate every year. Many of the things on my list are restricted by the fact that I’m ill, but more so because of the fact that they cost money (which is DUE to the fact that I’m ill). I’d love to be able to drive, and that’s been on my list for about 20 years now, but it could be there for another 20 years! Last year, I impulsively signed up for a few things and then fretted about them when I was accepted. However, if I hadn’t, I’d have missed out on some fun opportunities, like being in BBC Good Food magazine and being a Morrisons Taste Tester. Maybe there’s a lesson in that?

I’ve probably waffled on enough. I hope that your year has far more good things than bad things, and that your wishes are within your grasp. Happy New Year to you all. x

I know I’ve jumped ahead, and haven’t posted earlier weeks’ work, but I will. It was the penultimate week, this week, and I woke up feeling rotten. This time of year is bad for the ME/CFS, as there’s a balancing act between resting and doing what it takes to prepare for Christmas. I’ve never perfected it in all the years I’ve been ill! Anyhow, I hadn’t even done the homework, which was meant to be our take on an Alan Bennett monologue. I’d had a few ideas, but hadn’t been able to face sitting in front of the computer to get it down. So, at 7.30am, I had to get typing! This is what I came up with. I hope you like it - at least the group laughed at the right bits, and understood the character.

Mastermind

I usually join in with the quiz. I used to be on that team over there. We even had nicknames for each other. There’s Baldy, Lofty, Pigeon Joe and I was Mr Know-It-All. I was quite touched, because usually the nicknames are a bit mean. They had to let me go when Baldy’s brother wanted to come to quiz night, and that’s fine, because family comes first. In the end, he wasn’t able to make it, but they have to keep his place open, just in case… Did you know the word quiz first appeared in 1784 and meant ‘odd person’? I memorised that fact, but it hasn’t come up yet.

Lofty is a good friend of mine. I thought he was called Lofty because of his height or because he’s a keen pigeon fancier, but it’s because his name is Lofthouse. We had a good long chat one day over a real ale. I told him everything I knew about pigeons. Did you know that pigeon racing uses a special breed of pigeon called the ‘Racing Homer’? The only related question that has come up so far was about Homer Simpson. Lofty said he’d love to chat more, but he’d given up pigeons, after forty-two years. Now he sits with Pigeon Joe and they talk about birds they fancy. It’s a shame. We had a lot in common. Except pigeons. I hate pigeons. He did drink real ale though.

I only drink real ale. I joined CAMRA a few years ago, after I heard a few of the lads discussing it. I thought it was a club, at first. I usually order Dancing Duck, if I’m on my own. Actually, it’s my usual. I drink half beer, half lemonade, because I find it a bit…bitter. Did you know that CAMRA is the largest single-issue consumer group in the UK? I find this fact impresses the bar staff. They usually raise an eyebrow whenever I tell them.

The barmaid in here is lovely. She’s nineteen. She said she’d love to stay and chat with me, but the steward complained that we were gossiping too much, and now she stands at the other end of the bar. Mother would hate her, what with her low cut tops and big hair. I was engaged to a nineteen year old girl, once, but she didn’t get on with Mother at all. Mother said she was a Jezebel. Since father ran off with a woman in 1962, she’s described every woman younger than her as a Jezebel. Jane called the engagement off. She said that she would, reluctantly, live with Mother, but that wanting to bring her on our honeymoon was ludicrous. I said we’d compromise and get her an adjoining room, but that didn’t help. I suggested she see things from Mother’s point of view: she didn’t want any ‘funny business’ going on in a hotel room. That kind of thing was for the privacy of your own home on birthdays and special occasions, on nice clean sheets. That was forty years ago. Seems like yesterday. Did you know Jezebel was the daughter of Ethbaal?

I’m giving the quiz a miss today. It’s my sixty-first birthday. I was hoping to meet a few people for drinks, but I must’ve given them the wrong date. That’s the second time I’ve done that. Had a big party for my sixtieth and invited everyone at the pub. Mother catered and I decided to do the entertainment: I have large organ and I love to get it out whenever I can. Did you know the word ‘organ’ comes from the Greek word meaning instrument? Anyhow, no-one showed up. How could I have been so stupid, forgetting the date of my own birthday. Mother says I have too many facts, cluttering up my head. I’ll head off before the quiz starts. Mother will be waiting, but I’ve got half a pint left. I’ve started, so I’ll finish.

Had reservations about choosing to write a poem for this week’s class - I’m not a poet, but did feel I wanted a challenge. The theme today was ‘returning’, whether it be to a place or a person. Surprisingly, there was very little criticism except that the way the poem reads is a little short and ‘jaunty’, as one would write a comedic verse, rather than slow, lengthy and sombre as the material suggests. I had tried to curb my natural tendency to waffle (and inadvertently moved towards the haiku we’d studied in week one - I hadn’t even noticed this until it was pointed out). It was suggested that I omit some words, or extend some lines. Judge for yourself:

The Bungalow

I return, heavy-hearted.
My grandma, departed.
I sit alone, weeping.
Suddenly, my heart, leaping:
I hear her speaking!
Or was the house creaking?
On my face, I feel a touch…
Or a draft? Thought as much.
Her perfume lingers
like lavender fingers
stroking my senses -
my body tenses:
I catch her reflection!
On closer inspection,
was it a trick of the light
or an angel in flight?

So, I woke up this morning and my body protested against the idea of leaving the bed today. Several medications (and hours) later, I was heading to my Creative Writing class. I know it’s weird to have written a novel and had it published and THEN decided to learn about creative writing but

a) I’ve never done things the normal way
b) It would be arrogant to think that I couldn’t learn from other people
c) I really don’t know much about writing in the first place

The room was silent (which I hate) - there was no small talk (which was odd), so I was even more nervous. When the course began, there were 7 females and 1 male. The tutor said the dreaded ‘introduce yourselves’ thing and we had to say if we had any prior writing experience. I hadn’t intended to mention my book, but then thought it would look like I was hiding something if I didn’t. There was another novelist there, too, and people that had done commercial writing or attended other creative writing courses.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I’d hoped everyone would chat and bond - how can you share your work with people you don’t trust? I’m not saying the group is untrustworthy, but just that we haven’t had a chance to get to know one another. I’d love to get to know some real people, rather than solely my ‘virtual’ friends online. This was why I opted to do a course in the real world, rather than on the internet.

Some people felt able to share some work they’d prepared. I wouldn’t have wanted to at this stage, nor do I at any other stage, but it’s an obligation. I’m not comfortable reading aloud and I find it tiring. Some people have an aptitude for this: not me!

Today, I learned about Haiku, which I’d never really understood. I have to prepare one for next week. I like learning new things, but worry that this course is going to be challenging in more ways than I’d anticipated… I’m still tense now, almost three hours later!