Down at the Farm

Yes, I'm married! This is why I haven't written my blog lately.

The wedding dress fitted (after a lot of persuasion, but that's another story) and everything went incredibly amazingly well.

I'm enjoying my life, and settling in to being part of a couple. I'll blog again soon when I've discovered more about New Blogger (which I've only just found out about!)

Wedding dress tales

Well, one thing you can say about this weekend: I wasn't chasing sheep. Last weekend they escaped into the road.

No, this weekend I went wedding dress shopping with mother of mine. Thank God for corsets, is all I can say. Clearly I need to lose weight.

I tried on three or four dresses at the first shop and found one I liked very much. It only needed minor alterations (not only am I too fat, I am also too short) but ordering the dress would take far too long. Yes, it's late to be ordering a wedding dress if I hope to marry before the winter, but that's life.

We slipped unnoticed into shop number two. The dresses here were nearly twice as much and half the size. A slip of a girl looked stunning in one of the new-style slimline dresses. Never in a million years would I look remotely good in such a dress (nor would I fit into it). I was happy to discover that not one of these super-expensive dresses were to my liking.

Shop number three looked at us snootily and said we didn't have an appointment. Oh well, from what we could see they didn't have a suitable dress, either.

Shop number four was far better. They had a number of lovely dresses and I was spoilt for choice. I tried about a dozen on. I got hot and sticky, so imagine the scene when I tried to take off one voluminous dress that laced up the back. I'd got it on without totally undoing the laces, so mother of mine pulled the dress over my head (hmm. I seem to recall she was doing this sort of thing in my last blog entry). The dress stuck.

I finally knelt in a weird contorted position on the floor while mum slowly peeled the dress off me. Finally, it gave up and turned totally inside out and came off. Whew! I had visions of having to wear it permanently for the next several months.

But I eventually found one. It, too, needs a few alterations, but it didn't cost the earth and it was what I had imagined in my mind. It was a miracle that I found something I liked on the first day I looked! I won't describe it because my beloved might peek at my blog and find out.

Now to get the rest of the wedding organised. Like, how will I find the time to make 70 or so invitations? Maybe I should whittle the guest list down to the number of invitations I've managed to make by the time it's necessary to send them out!

I'm ba-a-a-ack . . .

You must have given up hope of ever hearing from me again. This is what happens when you fall in love . . . but I won't bore you with the details, although I could go on for weeks.

My beloved tells me he isn't a farmer, yet he owns a flock of sheep. He claims he doesn't have a clue about looking after them, that he employs someone else to do that. So how come I always seem to end up in a field full of sheep when I've supposedly come to see the man I love?

The other day, he had to check the sheep for disease (something to do with blow flies that I'd rather not go into). This time I was not alone. Mum and Dad were there. Mum and I stood in the field watching my beloved energetically running up the hill amongst the sheep.

And then I felt it. Something was crawling up my back. Instinctively, I knew it was not a sheep (it was too small, anyway). It was an insect and it stung me. Alarmed, I put my hand to the spot and felt the insect there beneath my dress. It stung me again.

Mum shouted to Dad to turn his back. She stood between me and my beloved's line of sight (for decency's sake) and ordered me to crouch down and strip to my underwear. When under attack I listen to my mother, so I did what she said. But the insect had fled.

"This is a nice dress," Mum said, holding it up to view. "Have I seen it before?"

"Yes," I hissed. "It was on me a moment ago and I would like to wear it again." Crouching in a field in my underwear is not something I do a lot. Reluctantly, Mum handed the dress back to me.

My beloved was totally unaware of my predicament. He sounded concerned when he discovered the drama and whisked us home in the car - and offered me ointment for burns. Sigh! Mum looked for vinegar, but he didn't have that either. Lots of grapefruit juice, tonic water, pizza and popcorn. But no vinegar. Until Mum spotted the pickled onions. She used that vinegar on the stings. It worked. It also kept Dad at a distance (he hates onions).

My life has taken a strange turn. First it was chickens and now it's sheep. I think I need to stay away from animals. Thank goodness I have no pets (unless you count the spiders in the corner of the living room).

Losing the Plot

I'm getting there. I really think I am.

Having spent the last however-many-days reading Vogler again and setting out the 12 stages of the hero's journey, I have now come to the conclusion that my plot leaves a lot to be desired. Sob!

The story starts well. But it ought to - I've worked on it and re-written it for years. What I have never done is get far enough into the story to realise that the middle sags and the ending sucks. To be fair, the ending didn't stand a chance. Every time I tried to think of it I simply wrote the equivalent of "...and they all lived happily ever after" and hoped I'd have a kind of revelation by the time I got to writing that part.

Which somehow reminds me of the time my dear brother and I were children and wrote the antithesis of "Black Beauty" which was, naturally, "White Ugly". I don't remember much of the story itself (apart from an odd moment when we polished the horse's eyeballs . . . it's probably best not to remember any more). But I do remember the ending: "They all died sadly never before."

Now if only I could find an equally memorable ending for my own story. Or a more memorable one.

Returning to normal

No doubt you're thinking I've been quiet lately. What can I say? You're so right!

Confession time - I haven't been writing. Well, I have, but not as much as I should. But I have more excuses (don't I always? I tell you, I could make a fortune writing excuses for people if only I could find an outlet).

First it was the boiler (now fixed) and then it was my computer. That took a month to get fixed. First the motherboard went, and then the memory (if only MY memory could be fixed so easily).

Finally, the computer returned to me in January. And then my DVD/CD writer decided it didn't want to burn anything to CD. Indeed, it didn't recognise there was a CD in the drive. My work colleague came to look at it, announced that nothing was wrong - and then promptly discovered that the computer wouldn't give the CD back. IT KIDNAPPED MY CD!! Thankfully it was a blank CD but hey, that's a problem when the drive won't open.

So he took away my drive and now I'm waiting. But at least I can type.

I've taken a short break from my "2 pages a day" writing regime. It was going well, but not necessarily in the right direction. I've taken time out to learn to plot by looking more closely at Vogler's Writer's Journey. It helped. I looked at my story so far and thought I had no "call to adventure", making it a teensy bit hard for my main character to "refuse the call". Sigh.

But looking closer, my inciting incident is probably the 'call to adventure' - but that is a death in the family, so the main character can hardly refuse that. Unless she DENIES it. Hmm. And that's the first stage of grief, isn't it? Oooh!

I guess I'm going to be quiet again. I'm off to write . . .

Brrrrrrr . . .

Maybe you think I've been quiet lately. You'd be right if you're thinking "blog" but dead wrong if you're thinking "trying to get the central heating boiler fixed." Believe me, the gas company would not call me quiet.

I have a combination boiler. You know, the kind that gives you heating all through the house AND hot water. So when it breaks down (which it has) that means COLD. Cold house and cold water. The weather is cold too, with heavy frosts this past week, though I should be thankful since the weather forecaster says the temperature is HIGH for the time of year. It is? Good grief, thank goodness for that, otherwise I'd be a little lump of ice!

The heating broke down while I was ill, two weeks ago. Yes, you read that right. Two weeks without heating or hot water (no baths!!)

I called the gas company. When they heard I was ill they said they'd treat me as an emergency and fix the boiler on the Monday. Nobody came. Apparently the engineers were busy and nobody thought to phone and tell me. So I waited five hours for nothing.

They said they'd come the Wednesday but came earlier than agreed and I was still at work. I found a note on my doormat saying, "We called and you were out." Well, surprise surprise. I wonder why!!

They said they'd come Friday. They came earlier than we agreed, but it was okay because I was ready for them (mwaa ha ha ha!) The boiler needed a new part. They'd have to order it. They'd fit it the following Wednesday. In the meantime, the engineer thought he MIGHT have fixed it. He hadn't. I rang the company to tell them to get the engineer to order the part because it wasn't fixed. They said they'd tell him. They didn't.

The engineer rang Wednesday to check the boiler was still working. He was surprised nobody told him to order the part. He said he'd order it and fix it Friday (today).

Today he rang and said, "Is the boiler still working?" It is always ominous when you hear a heating engineer say that. "No," I said, "because you couldn't get it to work last time you were here because you needed to order a part . . ." Ah. He remembered. He had the part. He came to fit it. The boiler was on. The engineer opened my front door to leave and go to his next customer. The boiler clicked and turned off.

The engineer said, "Oh NO!!" and said he'd come back Monday.

Oh, my computer died too. I got out my backup computer - and it died too. I'm beginning to feel like the writers of old. I'm huddled over a sheet of paper with my pen in my mittened hand, scarf and coat pulled in close to keep warm. I'd go and get a candle only I'm afraid the electricity might take that as a sign to turn off.

(Actually, I lie. I'm at my mum's so I can keep warm and have a bath - and use her computer)

If I wasn't allergic to feathers, I'd pluck the chickens and stuff a comforter with them (with the feathers, not the chickens!)

Second November Update

Gee, my titles are getting more and more creative. Actually, I'm not feeling creative at the moment. I'm feeling full of a cold and I don't really want to do anything but sit and feel sorry for myself.

But, surprise, I did actually get some writing done even when I felt wretched. That must mean something (apart from the fact that I'm crazy). I guess I no longer feel 'right' if I haven't done at least some writing every day. Oh my goodness, I'm turning into a . . . writer!

Since the middle of November I've written about 4,000 words. Doesn't sound a lot, but at least I've written every day. Sometimes I've been elated because things have turned up in my writing that were unexpected and work well. Serendipity. But then I've plunged into the depths when I set a time to write and the whole world decides to phone me or call in and visit. Sigh. What I need is balance.

Now I need to get rid of this cold. I'd have some chicken soup (I've heard that's good) but the chickens wouldn't like it . . .