My Year in Books 2018

Well Rants readers, here we are again, at the end of another year. It’s been a tough one in many ways but helping us to get through it as always, is the world of literature. This year wasn’t about reading challenges and reading as many books as I possibly could – as that usually distracts me from other things – it was simply about enjoying books, taking my time and exploring new authors. So the numbers might be lower but there have been some good ‘uns. As always, I will take it month by month and choose a favourite for each month.

Books I Read in January

1.  SAGA Volume 5: Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples
2.  Letters Home: Sylvia Plath
3.  A Wrinkle in Time: Madeline L’engle
4.   Italian Short Stories for Intermediates: Olly Richards
5.   Everybody Hurts: Joanna Nadin and Anthony McGowan (Library)
6.   Nancy Drew Files #100 Dance Till You Die: Carolyn Keene (Kindle)
7.   Nancy Drew Files #20 Very Deadly Yours: Carolyn Keene (Kindle)
8.   Awful Auntie: David Walliams

Quite a mix of a month. My first taste of Nancy Drew sparked by my obsession with Riverdale, the completion of a heavy book of letters from Sylvia Plath and my last short stories in Italian before I moved on to novels. But alas, SAGA steals the show this month. What a series, what wonderful minds created this, and long may it continue.

Books I Read in February

1    1.    Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: J.K Rowling (Re-read)
2.      Forever: Judy Blume (Kindle)
3.      The Summer of Us: Maggie Harcourt (Kindle)
4.      When Everything Feels Like the Movies: Raziel Reid (Library)
5.      Love, Hate and Other Filters: Samira Ahmed (Kindle)
6.      State of Grace: Rachael Lucas (Kindle)

A big kindle month with lots of great YA. I finally read Forever by Judy Blume, which escaped me as a child and yet is talked about by authors, in film and TV all the time. I thought it was about time I read it. It was quite tough to pick a winner this month but it goes to Love, Hate and Other Filters by Samira Ahmed, a powerful debut which handles difficult issues with grace, humour and romance. Check it out.

Books I Read in March

1    1.    The Princess Diarist: Carrie Fisher (Kindle)
2.      The Underground Railroad: Colson Whitehead (Library)
3.      Sofia Khan is Not Obliged: Ayisha Malik (Kindle)
4.      A Skinful of Shadows: Frances Hardinge (Library)
5.      One of us is Lying: Karen M. McManus
6.     Silence is Goldfish: Annabel Pitcher

I learned a lot this month. I learned that Princess Leia and Hans Solo were in love on and off set. I learned about the Underground Railroad and I learned about muslim dating. If I could have picked two winners of the month, the second would have been Sofia Khan is Not Obliged by Ayisha Malik, which is fantastic and hilarious and I can’t wait to read the sequel, however, One of Us is Lying is a such a great YA who-done-it, written from several perspectives, and it was so good I could barely put the book down. I also bought it from a lovely charity book shop in a crooked old house which gives me very happy memories.

Books I Read in April

1    1.      Uccidere per amore e per odio: Cinzia Medaglia
2.      The Falling sky: Pippa Goldschmidt
3.      Swing Time: Zadie Smith
4.      The Tightrope Walkers: David Almond
5.      Black dove, White Raven: Elizabeth Wein

April was about reading some books off my shelves and having a rest from the kindle screen. It worked out well as I read an adult book by the great David Almond – love him! – and I read a new author: Pippa Goldschmidt, but the top honours go to Zadie Smith. I love her writing, it's so gritty and real, you can almost taste it, and it's even better when you live in London because you know some of the places she is describing. Zadie, if you’re giving lessons, you have an eager student here.

Books I Read in May

1    1.      Simon Vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda: Becky Albertalli (kindle)
2.      A Kiss in the Dark: Cat Clarke (Kindle)
3.      Big Bones: Laura Dockrill (Kindle)
4.      Slay: Kim Curran
5.      I am Malala: Malala (Kindle)
6.      Fahrenheit 451: Ray Bradbury

After seeing Love Simon at the cinema – and loving it, I might add – it seemed only fair that I eventually read the book. Cat Clarke’s books never fail to rip you apart with the sheer brutality of the emotions, and they have this power to really zap you in. I went back to the kindle in a big way this month, but the winner of best book has to be Slay by Kim Curran. I mean, where was this book when I was a teen? Vampire slaying with musicians and kick ass women…sign me up. The sequel should be out soon and I cannot wait. Also I bought this from my local book shop: Owl Bookshop in Kentish Town. I love this bookshop so a big shout out to them, and Kim Curran who is a lovely human being!

Books I Read in June

1    1.       Perfect: Cecelia Ahern (Kindle)
2.      Clean: Juno Dawson (Kindle)
3.      Innamorarsi di April: Melvin Burgess
4.      Time and the Hunter: Italo Calvino
5.      La Straordinaria Avventura di Gatto Melanzana: Manuela Menini
6.      How do you Like me Now?: Holly Bourne
7.      SAGA Volume 6: Fiona Staples and Brian K. Vaughan

Finally I finished the Italian novel I had started a couple of months previously. The book was tough to read and dealt with some tricky issues and took me a while, but I got through it, my second full novel in Italian. Woo hoo. I highly recommend the book whether read in English or translated. Melvin Burgess is fabulous. The winner of this month is Clean by Juno Dawson. It is about addiction in young people and I thought it would be thoroughly depressing, but it was full of hope and humour and a really great read.

Books I Read in July

1    1.   Argilla: David Almond (In Italian)
2.      In Patagonia: Bruce Chatwin (Kindle)

Not much read this month, but we were on holiday for two weeks and if you have any idea what my holidays are like, you would understand how not much relaxing and reading ever goes on. The winner this month is Argilla by David Almond, again I read it translated in Italian, and it only took me two weeks, my new record. It felt like a big achievement and it also meant reading one of my favourite authors. Everybody wins and I learn more Italian.

Books I Read in August

1    1.    Jane Eyre: Charlotte Bronte
2.      Festa di Famiglia: Sveva Casati Modignani
3.      NW: Zadie Smith
4.      SAGA Volume 7: Fiona Staples and Brian K. Vaughan
5.      The Bookshop: Penelope Fitzgerald (Kindle)
6.      Anything is Possible: Elizabeth Stroud

Can you believe it? I made it to the tender age of 34 without having read Jane Eyre, though at least I got it in before my 35^th Birthday. That would have been embarrassing. What can I say? It’s a masterpiece. And I shall be reading it again and again over the years, I am sure.

Books I Read in September

1    1.    The Lost and the Found: Cat Clarke (Kindle)
2.      A Boy Called Ocean: Chris Higgins (Library)
3.      The Trees: Ali Shaw
4.      L’arte di correre: Haruki Murakami

This month I took in another Italian book, this one non-fiction and autobiographical. Also a little hard going and unnecessarily flowery at times, but still, good to experience new vocabulary and literary devices in a different language. This month’s winner is Cat Clarke, who writes awesome books for a YA audience and has the ability to pull you in and have you feeling all of the emotions.

Books I Read In October

1    1.      A Quiet Kind of Thunder: Sara Barnard (Kindle)
2.      84K: Claire North
3.      Classic Ghost Stories: Dickens et al…
4.      The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories: Angela Carter

I tried to have a slightly spooky Halloween month and thoroughly enjoyed all the short ghost stories and my first reading of Angela Carter. I already have a couple of her other books to divulge at my leisure. But Sara Barnard’s romantic tale of a mute girl and a deaf boy is just so charming and heart breaking and heart-warming and brilliant, that I read it in two days, despite working both of those days. If you haven’t read any Sara Barnard, check her out.

Books I Read in November

1    1.    Spinning Silver: Naomi Novik
2.      SAGA Volume 8: Fiona Staples and Brian K. Vaughan
3.      Are we all Lemmings and Snowflakes?: Holly Bourne (Kindle)
4.      Alias Grace: Margaret Atwood
5.      Kitchen: Banana Yoshimoto (In Italian)

Another great mix of books this month. Another Italian novel, read in ten days – my new record - and thoroughly enjoyed, another volume of SAGA which never fails to entertain, and another book by YA legend: Holly Bourne. But the year is not complete without at least one Margaret Atwood book and Alias Grace is epic.

 Books I Read In December

1    1.    My Brilliant Friend: Elena Ferrante
2.      The Story of a New Name: Elena Ferrante
3.      And a Happy New Year: Holly Bourne (Kindle)
4.      All the Bright Places: Jennifer Niven (Kindle)
5.      Valley of the Dolls: Jacqueline Susann (Kindle)

Okay, so you tell me how to pick a favourite from this choice line up? December really was a top month to finish the year on. Finally introducing myself into the world of Elena Ferrante, revisiting the Spinster Club for its final outing, and reading a book that is over fifty years old but feels like it was written last week. I took in some new authors, all women, with great stories….ahhhh! It’s too hard to choose. So I will take the wuss way out. You all win. You’re brilliant and I can’t wait to get started on the books I got for Christmas, let alone all the new wonderful new releases and classics and books already out there to be explored in 2019.

So the final tally was 64! Not a patch on previous years but sometimes it is nice to just take your time and not rush things. Whilst most of 2018 was awash with anguish and political strife and upset, at least the literary world was keeping us entertained and will always continue to do so. 

This is Rants out for another year. 

Happy New Year. 

Buon Anno.

And all the best for 2019. May there only be small scale, every day grievance style rants, and not great big, hairy, tearing countries and communities apart rants. 

Rants

Keeping Tabs and Wasting Time

Hello lovely Rants readers. So yesterday I had an appointment to get my phone battery changed at a place in Soho. The slot had been booked since last Friday and I was taking advantage of the Apple offer to change battery for £25, before the offer ends on the 31st December. But then on Tuesday evening, I received an email, which I didn't see until Wednesday morning, which basically said we may not have a battery for you, so call us in advance. I called them and of course they didn't have any batteries left, despite this slot having been booked, specifically for a battery replacement, five days previously.

I frantically researched for an alternative spot and found the one remaining slot at the Apple store in Covent Garden at 3.35pm. I was teaching at 4.30pm but I figured it was my last shot and I'd be cutting it fine, but I should still make it. So I leave a little bit early to make sure I've got enough time to navigate the chaos that is Covent Garden at Christmas, and I've backed up my phone, done all the preamble they asked for and even managed to get my phone out of its heavy duty, you-will-not-break -even-if-I-drop-you, case, which is not easy.

I wait a few minutes to be seen and they basically tell me my battery is running at 90% which considering it is around 3 years old, is great. He also tells me I don't actually need to get it replaced, but A had been badgering me about this for months and obviously thought it should be done. And now I'm faced with a decision and I can't seem to make it. And I hate myself for that because I'm an independent woman who, believe it or not, can actually make decisions for herself, but when it comes to technology does not trust herself, because the technology generally hates her. So I call A, and feel the feminists judge me, because I ask him what he thinks I should do. And whilst I would love to save the money, A insists its the right way to go. So I do it. I hand over my phone and the guy says it'll be ready about 5.00pm.

I head off to teach two private lessons in Angel, without the ability to listen to music - as I gave in my phone - and without anyway of contacting anyone. But I had a good book I'd just started on the kindle: a YA I've been meaning to read for years, and I get stuck in. (All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven. It's very good.)

After teaching my final two students before Christmas, I ask about buses back to Convent Garden - again, can't check because of no phone - and I find my way back to the Apple store. It's now 6.40pm and I expect to be in and out. I am not. I am immediately signed in and they say it's busy but we'll have someone with you as soon as we can. Now I'm a patient person - I work with kids, I have to be - but after twenty minutes, I started to get a bit agitated. The lights were too bright. I was reading but not always taking it in, because if I lost myself to the book I might become invisible and they would pass right by me.

After half an hour, I started to very carefully, glare at the girl who signed me in. I was tired, hungry, dehydrated and borderline pissed off at this point, and still nothing. At this point I realise via my fitness watch that I've had a missed call - presumably from A - but whilst I can see I've been called, I can't actually answer a call. So I sit and think, he'll realise where I am, plus I'll be out of here soon. But after 45 minutes, I am still there, on the same stool, needing the toilet, my eyes now sick of the lights - I don't know how people work there eight hours a day - and I can't hold it in any longer. (My frustration not my pee.) The woman comes back and says, 'You've been waiting a while. Let me check up for you.' I say it's been 45 minutes, with the most polite yet pissed off tone I can manage. She finds someone else, who says give it five more minutes and if no one arrives, they will literally go up and get it themselves. I mean, if that was an option, why couldn't they have done that in the first place? But anyhoo, at least people are aware.

Three minutes later, a woman appears and bellows my name. But at this point I can't manage a smile. I'm not happy it's there, I'm tired and hungry/cranky - which is one of the worst types of cranky - and I know that A will have been panicking and sending messages and freaking out, because we're all so used to being able to contact someone all the time and to know where they are all the time, that the immediate thought when you can't is: panic, some one's hurt or dead or there's a zombie apocalypse. Chill out people. There was life before the technology that keeps tabs on us. There were days and weeks when you didn't contact people but you didn't immediately presume bad things. I kinda miss those days. But then I also missed listening to music on the bus journey.

Gilbert (my phone) was returned and hastily bundled back into his heavy duty case. There's a reason he looks so good and is in fine condition, because he is wrapped in armour enough to withstand my occasional lack of coordination, my lack of spacial awareness and the times when you just drop shit for no apparent reason. And there are the missed calls and the messages. A was so panicky that he wouldn't start cooking until he had heard from me. It is ridiculous what technology has done to us. We have to have contact or that person is in trouble. We have to have contact or something bad has happened.

What did we do before hand? Did parents really panic and worry every single second of the day because they didn't know your exact whereabouts? Did boyfriends and girlfriends, partners or spouses, panic about who was doing the shopping for the evening meal, or who was going to be back first, or where you were and what you were doing? No, you decided these things before you left the house, or you left a note, or you called them on the landline. And if there was an issue, then you found a pay phone, or you were just late back and then you explained the reason, or made an excuse.

We should try some experiments. Turn your phone off for a couple of hours, or refuse to answer messages and see what happens. Am I just cruel? Or would that be a lot of fun?

Rants out.

2 Gigs in a Week, Scrooge and Holes in the Ceiling.

Hello Rants Readers. After my favourite month of October, a little jaunt to Salem for a Halloween Ball, and only just taking the Halloween decorations down, I have definitely been avoiding all talks of that other holiday, creeping up on us, though I think it's been not-so-subtly-stalking us since August. There is a definite Scrooge-like mentality growing within me. I'm sick of it already and it's not even happened. It's all too much for one day. And I know most people will disagree but I'm counting on at least one fellow Scrooge out there. Bah Humbug.

So last week I attended two gigs in a week. I know. It's like I'm twenty all over again. But guess what? I'm not twenty anymore and boy was that exhausting. Two late nights. Ears buzzing from the speakers. Legs and back hurting from standing at Ally Pally to watch Nothing but Thieves. Voice hurting from my usual, must compete with entire band and amplifiers. But it means I've finally seen Florence and the Machine. Wow! Now that is the epitome of a voice filling a room. Amazing! And I've been involved in the unique and crazy atmosphere of Ally Pally. It will likely be the one and only time. Ha ha. But queuing for half an hour to get out of the venue and into the tube, before your 45 minute journey home really puts a downer on the evening. It's up there with returning from the airport after a trip. A grumpy Rants ensues. And I was always too sensible for a mosh pit, so that hasn't changed, I can report. The divide when the band said mosh pit, was hilarious. A group of us melded back into the shadows, whilst the sprightly, brave ones tore forwards to injure themselves and others.

I think today may be the official school trip day of North London. Every single tube was filled with at least two different school's worth of children. Now, I love working with kids, but travelling with them to then teach more of them, is a bit much. Does anyone else deflate a little when they spy a class of teeny, high-vis vest wearing youngsters, trailing into the tube station?

The building work has finally started inside Flat 19 and so far it involves lots of holes in the ceiling. I'm pretty sure I'm going to come home one day and there will be one big hole and I'll be able to wave at the upstairs neighbours. We spent a lot of the weekend, moving and boxing up books and shelving units that would be otherwise in the way. So the bedroom now houses these as well as a make shift work area for me and all the instruments I'll need for classes, so that I don't have to disturb the builders. But living out of one room is tough, especially when you partly work from home. Another annoying thing is that you never know when they're actually going to be there, so I arrived home from class today and no one was there, but the same happened yesterday and just as I settled on the couch to eat my soup and catch up with Strictly, the door bell rang. So who knows when they'll be back today? Still, at least they are keeping everything neat and tidy - at the moment - which is nice.

One more thing before I go. There was a film out a couple of weeks back called: The Hate You Give, based on a book of the same title by Angie Thomas. It is a fantastic novel and the film was so well done. My partner came with me who had no idea what it was about and he loved it. And despite it being based on a YA novel, this is a film for all ages, because the topic is current and necessary and, without giving too much away, we are talking white cop shoots a black teenager for no reason. The cast is phenomenal and I urge you to check it out if it is still on at your local cinema, because I really feel that it was not given enough screen time, especially in London. We had been seeing trailers for it for months, so expected a mass of showings at different cinemas and different times, and after only having been out two days, the film was only showing in the middle of the day and one cinema close to us had one evening showing, which we managed to get ourselves to. But some of the tosh that was on, and that is kept on for weeks on end, yet such an on point and significant film that is actually stupendous in its own right, was hardly given a chance.

I've been meaning to rant about that for a while, because if you look on Rotten Tomatoes, The Hate You Give has 97% and Venom - for instance, which was out at the same time - had about 30%, yet Venom was on for at least a month, with multiple showings a day, in every cinema in central London. I think more space needs to be made for smaller films, indie films and films that are actually good, rather than some of the tosh and massive blockbusters that have no real story and no life to them. Again, this weekend we watched Widows (91%), which is fantastic and has a brilliant female cast, and I know it's been out a couple of weeks, but things like The Crimes of Grindelwald - which is pants - and Robin Hood (17%) - again with very low scores and bad reviews, have so many more showings. I realise it's the way the world works with mass consumption and Hollywood and advertising and all the rest, but I really thing the smaller films don't need to be confined to art house cinemas or put on at silly times, they should be given residence in the central cinema chains, giving the public more of a choice and these films more of a chance.

Okay, I need to get off now. Lunch time approaches and probably the builders. Those holes won't make themselves.

Rants out. Thanks for reading.

A Little Bit Of Self Sabotage Goes A Long Way.

How the feck is it October? Sorry, I mean, hi Rants readers. But seriously, how is it October? September was supposed to be submission September. I coined the term myself - that's probably not true, but in my head it was - and I was pleased with the alliteration. However, September has come and gone and I have not made another submission yet. Mainly because I decided to re-write half the book when I should have just been writing synopses.

Ah, self sabotage. Turns out I'm really good at it. I set myself a target and as that approaches, instead of knuckling down and pulling all-nighters and killing myself for that self-made deadline, I just let it fritter away. I decide I hate everything and let the doubt donkey in - see my blog: The Donkey, Monsters and The Jumping Snake, from 18/7/13 for more information on the doubt donkey. And I know I can't write a synopsis, and that's why I do this every pissing time, but just deciding everything is crap and ignoring it is never going to get this sodding book finished and submitted. I really know how to make myself angry.

I tried reading lots of blog posts and advice on writing synopses. I also wrote three or four and started editing them, but then two days later thought they were the biggest pile of drivel I'd ever read. I swear my will power used to be much stronger and that I used to be able to tell the doubt donkey to kindly fuck himself, but recently it's like he's in control and it's annoying to say the least. Sometimes I wish a giant would come and pick me up and shake all this nonsense out of me and then I would have more belief in myself, but alas I think that option is unlikely.

It's true that once one thing in your life is going well, other things are going to fall apart dramatically, it's just sad that it has to be my writing, or more precisely, my own belief in my writing ability, that had to be the one to take a hit. Italian classes are going well. Most of my music classes are going well and therefore, my submissions are at a standstill. I write myself lists and do everything on the list but completing a synopsis. I am sabotaging myself and it has to stop!

On another completely unrelated note, I started watching Killing Eve last night and it's amazing! The writing is spectacular and the cast is phenomenal. It is always a delight to recognise fantastic writing within a TV programme. Also, if you're not already watching Atypical on Netflix, go for it, it's brilliant. But I can safely say the Season 2 finale is complete with one of the best rants ever! Paige's rage is superbly written and acted.

Well, I should probably be writing synopses but instead I'm writing this. And now I'm hungry. Maybe I'll just grab an early lunch. But wait, there I go again. Self sabotage.

Argh!

Rants.

Insurance, Weird Dreams, A Giant Aviary and A New Insult

What a shocking night's sleep last night. After falling asleep on the couch watching TV with my beloved, it should have been simple: teeth brushed and then back to the business of sleep, but instead it became thinking and over thinking and oh my, an hour has passed and I'm still thinking. There are way too many things going on in my head and I just want to escape them all.

I had some pretty crazy dreams the last couple of nights too. I discovered after living in the same place for ten years, that we had an awning outside, which meant we could convert half the garden into a shelter and have dinner outside even it was raining. We set all that up and lo and behold it did start raining. Then loads of people came for dinner, including a very close friend of mine, who turned up with her first ever boyfriend - who she split up with years ago - and three kids that she had supposedly given birth to yesterday. I congratulated her on how great she looked and we discussed the fact that she was only meant to have twins, so who was the extra child? The three kids were enormous and could already walk, despite being born yesterday. Freaky. One had jet black hair, one had white blonde hair, and the other had half jet black, half white blonde.

I mean, what the crap is wrong with my subconscious?

Anyhoo, we have a new lodger in Flat 19. It's alive, it makes weird sounds, it makes a mess all over the kitchen and its name is Spencer. Yes, you guessed it, it's a sourdough starter from San Francisco and it's A's new obsession.

I'm not going to lie to you, Rants is not a huge fan. It makes all these weird clicks and gurgles, and when you're in the flat by yourself it can freak you out. But he could have worse hobbies. And at least we get bread out of it.

We have heard that the joyous scaffolding will remain until February, so there goes any chance of appreciating the clouds, enjoying the balcony seat or enjoying the view. But it has now become less a squirrel's playground and more a giant aviary. If it's not pigeons, it's gulls, which make a racket at 3.30am, 5.30am and sometimes throughout the day. Then it is the ones that I only ever hear and never see. The gulls that laugh, you know the ones, 'ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha.' I can tell you, it's not fucking funny. And then there are the ones that aren't even melodic, they're more of a percussive dunk or click. And they have a habit of sitting close enough to send all their annoying, distracting sounds my way, whilst staying out of sight, so I can't throw things at them, or bash on the windows and scare them.

Did you know, you can't kill a gull? I didn't until I googled it. No, apparently they are protected. I mean the swans I get, they're majestic and beautiful and their babies are adorable, but really? Gulls?
I created a new insult for the gulls, which I am quite proud of. I tend to sing it to them when they're at their most irritating: You little shit bag wanker fucks.

I've been told that I now need third party liability insurance to continue working at the nurseries, after six years of music classes, so I'm in the throws of figuring out what the hell that is, and attempting to find a quote. But then they ask you all these intelligent questions that you don't know the answers to, and I blagged it best I could, after all, I was only on money supermarket looking for a quote...

The phone rings twenty minutes later. 'Hi it's blah, blah, blah, from blah, blah, blah, about your quote for insurance. Ahhhh. They're watching me. I completely panicked and garbled some nonsense about not knowing if I ticked the right boxes and wanting to discuss it with my partner because I think I might have done it all wrong and I didn't understand half of it. And he's saying, well I can help you with that. And all I'm thinking is, I'm trying to write a scene of my novel and I feel like you're going to try and push me into doing something I don't want to, and I can't get off the phone quick enough.

Oh well, time to return to the novel. These scenes don't write themselves. Shame.

Rants

London: 10 Years In...

So I completely failed at producing a blog around my tenth anniversary in London. And when I say failed, I mean, I spent two and half hours writing it and then realised it wasn't funny enough and then hated it and didn't post it.

So instead, I will garble on about a few things I will never get used to about London, and probably segue into a few other random tit bits, and finally cool down from the run I just went for and go for a shower, but that could be hours yet.

After ten years in London:

• I will never get used to the heat of the tube, especially in summer. Once the temperature starts to rise, I refuse to sit down even if there are seats available. I stand up, avoiding sitting on the hot seats that have been absorbing the sweaty heat of the previous persons arse, and yet still, the line of sweat trickles down my back, underneath the thinnest top I could feasibly wear without it being see through, and even though no one can see it, I feel like they all can, and they're judging me for perspiring. 

• I will never get used to the people that keep on long sleeves and jumpers, and sometimes even coats, on the tube. Yes. Coats. I'm sweltering in shorts and a sleeveless tops and there are those in full suits, who must just stew in their arm pit sweat all day. I don't get it. I never will. Just go in a t-shirt and get changed at the office. 

• I think I have shown that I will never lose my accent. Bath and castle will always be bath and castle, never barth and carstle. Though I do admit to changing from buzz to bus. When you work with kids and you sing Wheels on the Bus several times a day, then it gets drummed into you pretty hard, that actually the word is bus with an s, not two Zs like the sound a bee makes. Though I can revert back when necessary. And after some time up north with my family and friends the accent gets stronger and I love that. I love seeing southerners trying to figure out where I'm from, especially as I have a few accent remnants from my time working in Manchester too. 

• I will never get used to how brilliant the public transport is and yet most conversations you have are to do with the weather - of course, it's Britain - but also the trains, or lack there of, or delay of, or cancellation of, or the fullness of, or the lack of air conditioning on, or the removal of carriages or the lack of crew. It is right up there with the weather as the most talked about small talk and probably the most complaints. And yet, the network is absolutely fantastic...when it works. You can get anywhere across London and beyond, by probably two or three or maybe more different ways, different modes and different options. I love not having to drive. I love that I don't have to rely on other people in order to get myself places, though I do have to rely on the services actually running. 

• Somehow I am still working with the same nursery chain, though in a different capacity and no longer full time, but considering I pretty much hated it from day one, I've actually managed to make the most out of it, and from those first four and half years of stress and upset and occasional sparks of fun and brilliance, I have built a network of families, parents and children that I am still working with, and that have enabled me to support myself as a part-time-self-employed-wannabe-writer. (Wow, that's a long sentence.) You see, somewhere along the line being nice and good with children, and having some musical abilities have paid off. Who knew?

• I will never understand the way London joins up from one famous spot to another unless I have walked there with my own legs, and then I will probably know only one way to walk there and I will always take that street for fear of ending up in Narnia. It's a big place and you are never going to run out of areas to visit or new streets to walk down. I love it. You can also do all your exploring without bumping into everyone you've ever known and all those annoying people from high school who made you miserable just because they had blonde hair or were thinner or had actual fashion sense - something I've never aspired to - or more money or were cleverer. You can be fairly anonymous and that's quite nice too. It's quite freeing. Who gives a shit that I just spilled my drink all over myself, I'll never see that person again, they probably live near Wembley, or more likely South of the river, or even more likely, they're a tourist. 

• I love the weird, almost rivalry, between North of the river and South of the river. It's a big thing. And quite often, once you have chosen your side of the river, you will always live that side of the river. Not many people switch. For instance, about ninety percent of everyone I've met, worked with, or been friends with in London, have lived South of the river, which always meant a hefty trek to visit. But we have always been North. And we can't understand why other people don't come North - except for of course, the house prices - because it's brilliant! Camden, Hampstead Heath, Kings Cross, London Zoo, Primrose Hill, Regents Park... Yes I realise I just mentioned lots of really expensive places to live. Okay. I get it, but I still wouldn't move South of the river. I need to be North, it's in my blood. 

Excuse me whilst I quickly segue into some random tit bits...

This week saw me making huge progress in overcoming one of my more recent fears: that of deep water. It's been going on a good few years now and unfortunately, plagues me in deep swimming pools, resulting in panic attacks once I realise I can no longer stand up. I know. Pathetic. I used to be a really strong swimmer. But I've been taking one of the boys I pick up from school to swimming lessons over this term and sitting there watching people swim was actually making me jealous. 

I used to love to be in the water, even the open air pool in Blackpool. My mum has a photograph of me, practically blue in the face from the cold, but refusing to come out. And now, there's this block, this barrier, that's keeping me from doing something I actually really enjoy. And I know it's probably psychological, because I haven't had any bad experiences or anything like that, but I do have a powerful imagination, and I do presume the worst in situations, and I do watch a lot of horror films. So...

But this week I decided to go for it. And after the child's parent had come to collect him, I got into my swimming stuff and I made myself get in that pool. It turns out singing a song you like, by an inspiring woman can work wonders, as can just telling yourself - in your head - that it's fine and it's just water. And also a bit of Dory advice too: just keep swimming. Just get to the other side. It doesn't matter that the water has changed colour because of the depth. It doesn't matter that I can't stand up. I don't need to stand up because I'm swimming, and also there are two lifeguards there and as I'm in the slow lane we are right by the side of the pool, so I can grab on if necessary. 

The song I sang to myself was: Take to the sky by Tori Amos, which also got me through the last 8 miles of a half marathon, many moons ago. For some reason it propels me on and gives me a push. These are the chorus lyrics, I added the brackets:

'You can say it one more time, 

What you don't like. (Deep water)

Let me hear it one more time then, (I don't like deep water)

Have a seat while I, take to the sky.'

I managed 14 lengths and no panic attacks, though my next big leap will be putting my face in the water. At the moment I am doing breast stroke and keeping my head out of the water, but I'll get there. And my plan was to do the same thing for the next two Tuesdays, which would take us to the end of the school term and also to my summer holidays. But of course England go and lose and are now playing next Tuesday so I won't be able to go. Ah well. Maybe I'll go Wednesday instead as my Italian classes are done until August. Freedom!

Oh, and I had my eyes tested the other day and nothing has changed for the first time since I was seventeen and realised I needed glasses. Whoop! So that's one expense I can cross off the list. I just need to find a new hairdressers as mine has gone out of business, which I only found out yesterday when I called for an appointment. Ah well, I'll cope with my straw like, split end mess for another week. 

I should probably go and take that shower now. 

As always thanks for reading. I will be up north this weekend visiting my family and friends. Maybe taking a buzz, and I cannot wait. But here's to the next ten years in London. I bloody love it. 

Rants. 

I AM ANGRY!

I am angry!

Another shitty Monday morning of lessons. 

Today I was actually locked in a classroom - I had no idea until I tried to leave - with the seven children I was teaching, which is not only completely illegal and wrong, but also horrendous, I mean, who wants to be locked in. I need escape routes. And one of the children is on the spectrum, and two of the others were hitting each other with the instruments. And the child with autism kept throwing everything and I was by myself and unbeknownst to me, locked in. Great!

Then I go to teach my second class of the morning only to find out that not all the children I need are there; they've sent one to the park, and left me with two kids that aren't even in the music class. The staff member left behind - thankfully they left me with someone - wasn't bothered at all. She wasn't concerned that she'd sent the wrong child to the park. She wasn't concerned that that parent had paid for a lesson that the child now did not attend. And she fully admitted to me that she was going to lie to the parent and tell them that the child said he wanted to go to the park instead. Which is nonsense anyway, because he doesn't get to choose. His parents have paid for music class, he's in the damn music class. 

And not only that, but she kept trying to insert one of the two children that were surplus to requirements, into the class, claiming that he's in the class and always has been. Despite the fact that he's never been in the class and I know who's in the fucking class, because it's my fucking business. And there's a list on the wall, that I can see from where I'm sat, which clearly states who is in the class, and she has never looked at it. And she couldn't give a shit. I mean, incompetence doesn't even cut it. She just sat ignoring the other two children that of course couldn't join in, and sat on the ipad, whilst they got really bored watching me and could have been at the park. And then proceeded to tell them, that I didn't want them in the class. Er, excuse me. I can't have them in the class because they haven't paid and I don't have permission from parents. Just because you are shit at your job and can't get off your lazy arse to read a list with seven names on it, doesn't mean you can tell children I don't want them. I mean, how the fuck is she even working with kids if she says things like that to them? 

Needless to say I was/am livid, but writing this will help and watching yesterday's Poldark over my lunch break should also take the edge off. But really, URGH!

I emailed the parent immediately and told them what happened and I hope they make a complaint, because it's not the first time this nursery have done something like this and I am not giving refunds when I was there to teach the child. It is not my fault the child wasn't there to be taught. 

And right now I am reading this out loud in a very angry tone with the window open whilst the builders walk past my window, and probably think I'm a crank. 

Great start to the week. 

Rants

A Squirrel's Play Centre

Today's rant is brought to you from behind the scaffolding, from behind the blue mesh that blocks out the sky and the walkways that roll right past our fifth floor windows.

Today's rant is brought to you from a penned in writer who misses her view and can no longer use her balcony as she now shares it with squirrels and a whole host of birds that use it like their very own nature reserve.

I miss the clouds. I miss watching the storms. I miss being able to leave things on the balcony without them being torn apart by oversized rats with fluffy tails. And I miss being able to open the windows without fear of a creature or person wandering in. We can't even keep the curtains open as there are high-vis vests wandering around at any time. And there is only one room without windows, so you have to get dressed in the bathroom to conserve your modesty.

The squirrels are elated as they now have their own high-rise play centre. The interconnecting poles, the stairways and the netting, has provided them with plenty to do and the little pests think it is fun to destroy our planters and throw soil everywhere. The other day I left a bag of rubbish on the balcony in order to take down later, and when I went out to get it, there were several holes in it and food splattered everywhere. Little shits.

Everything is muted. The colours are all wrong, and behind blue netting and the rectangular metal mesh stuff - intended to keep out intruders - I am only able to see the world through a variety of shapes and gaps. You can't see the bigger picture. You can't see the whole. And you certainly can't ascertain what the weather is doing. The constant greyness often leaves you blinded when you emerge from the building into full sun.

We had builders in the flat yesterday checking the heating and pipes and flu line. And the manager had the audacity to go into the bedroom and  - failing to find the light switch - come back out asking where the light was in the 'children's room.' Rude. We don't have a second bedroom. We don't have children as I told him earlier. If that was the children's room then where the fuck would we sleep? And really, if he had made any attempt to look with his eyes he would have seen the double bed. Just because it's raised off the floor, doesn't mean it's for a child. Adults can have high beds too, especially when they're dealing with tiny spaces and can have wardrobes and storage space underneath them. My dad made that bed to perfectly fill the space. It's genius!

I think he realised he'd offended me when I immediately retorted, 'That's our room. We don't have any children and it's the only bedroom.' Where he thought we were hiding the other one I have no idea. To be fair, he was a bumbling mess and probably a few years younger than me, but really, open your eyes dick wad, it's a one bedroom flat.

It's strange to feel like you're being watched, up on the fifth floor. It was always me taking on the role of observer, photographing the clouds, looking down on the world and listening in to voices that drifted up to us. But now, I am caged and only they can look in. The view is obstructed, the world is changed.

Rants

Eurovision 2018

It's my favourite time of year. Eurovision is here and with it, the most bizarre staging, costumes, songs and nonsense you're likely to see all year. It's quite an event and Rants is here to take you through it, piece by sparkly piece.

Cue Graham Norton and the Eurovision theme. Let's go...

A nice classy opening from Lisbon with their traditional Fado songs.

1. Ukraine
Fresh from filming the sequel to What we do in the Shadows, please welcome Mr Vampiro. He just rose out of a coffin, which doubles as a piano. He sired all the backing vocalists and then here he is playing on his coffin piano. Ahhhh, the steps are on fire. Call 999 or whatever the number is in Portugal. Those fire balls could take someone's eyes out. Oh wait, does that explain the one creepy contact lense...it's a glass eye.

2. Spain
Three notes on the piano and I already can't cope. His voice is bad, kinda like a cartoon. Did he swallow a kid? Graham mentioned it might be saccharine but really...vomit! Everywhere! Oh look at us we're so in love. Blurgh. We get it, you're shagging.

3.Slovenia
So many thighs and crotches on display and a shit tonne of attitude. Has a good beat and she has a great voice, as well as pink hair. She put it out there and that was honestly very good.

4. Lithuania
She needs to sing a bit better, especially on the low notes. It's way too sickly sweet, I feel like I'm choking on cheap perfume. Bringing your husband on stage: gross!

5. Austria
Extra in the Hunger Games? Divergent? He definitely just stepped out of a dystopian YA film franchise. Great voice though. Wait for it, oh yes, there it is, the high pitched ball squeezing bit.

6. Estonia
She's freakin' opera Elsa. She's going to break into Let it Go. A great set of lungs and a ridiculously high voice, but I don't have much else to say.

7. Norway
This song is terrible. It sounds a bit Will Smith/90s throwback. The lyrics are shit. The dancers are shit. I'd be ashamed if I had to sing something like that. How can you show your face at work on Monday?

8. Portugal
Pink hair number 2. A cute song and voice, but it became a bit background to our ongoing cheeseboard. I liked the ending when both women sang together. I fear it may be forgotten.

9. UK
We toasted to Terry Wogan with our Port that we bought in Lisbon last year.
Well done Surie. The crowd seemed to be loving it.
WTF just happened? I question the security of this place. He just took her freakin' microphone.
What a professional. She got on with it. Well done love.
According to twitter, Nigella is outraged at what just happened and the fact that no one has mentioned it.

10. Serbia
He owns those women. Someone help them escape. There's a wizard on a plinth with a recorder. It's a bit Game of Thrones meets Gladiator.

11. Germany
That's quite a head of hair. And a nice voice but it's a bit too schmaltzy for my taste. The graphics are making my eyes roll. Though I think at the end he was definitely trying to hypnotise the audience into voting for him.

12. Albania
A surprisingly good voice. Bit of a rock power ballad going on here. Costumes seem a tad over the top, a bit leathery and fetishy. But I like the Darkness style ending.

13. France
(Another actual couple) A bit sci-fi costume wise. They could have been extras in the new Star Wars except for the red trainers. Fine but not my cup of tea.

14. Czech Republic
Oh no, what just happened? He's trying to be Bruno Mars but he looks like Urkel. I did appreciate the choreography with a backpack. Who knew? It was very YA, very teen, and they had a lot of fun. A shout out to my friend Charlotte who loved the braces and immediately messaged me saying Czech Republic to win!

15.Denmark
I saw these guys during the flag ceremony and had high hopes. The Vikings have landed. I thought they were going to be super metal, however, it was just Westlife stomping around wearing black, having grown long hair and beards.

16. Australia
I think she caught the netball and can only pivot on one foot. This will do well but it's not for me. She's trying to pretend she actually has a dance routine and is not winging it.

17. Finland
Great voice and costume. Bit of upside down singing. Lots of hand choreography. I think her four dancers are from Dr Evil's lair. She got a bit pitchy at the end but it was pretty entertaining.

18. Bulgaria
Starts with Bulgarian Will I Am. It's a bit intense and bro-tastic, but they are totally diverse and they brought a Lady Gaga lookalike with them. Some great voices. This was a good song.

19. Moldova
Opening and closing doors. It felt like something out of the Ikea catalogue. Oh my, he was taking her from behind. Love triangle in primary colours. Terrifying.

20. Sweden
Stop gyrating you Beiber wannabe. This was gross and made me pull my face in disgust. Eww. Just eww.

21. Hungary
LOVE! INSTANT LOVE! Yes! A metal group. Yes.
Energy. Anger. Aggression. Barefoot and screaming. Fire everywhere. And they're having a lovely time. What is not to love?

22. Israel
The bar in the postcard they showed, we went to and had incredible cocktails. I almost choked on my port, screaming at the TV. Anyhoo, this is spectacular. She needs to win. She made some remarkable sounds and of course acted like a chicken.

23. The Netherlands
It's all gone country. How Dutch. It's a good song but it doesn't have a chance of winning. It's too American, not Eurovision. Oh, the dancers have gone crazy. They're having a fit.

24. Ireland
This was very cute. Great voices. Very simple. Dancers acting out a same sex romance. Yes! I hope this does well. One of the only ballads I could cope with.

25. Cyprus
That costume does not look comfortable. Do the sequins chafe?
Sorry to break it to you, but you're not Beyonce. Your voice is not secure and there are no backing vocals, just everyone singing in unison, because her voice is weak.

26. Italy
It was a bit intense. Very political and serious. He's just shouting. Not my favourite Italian entry and a bit of a weird one to finish on.

Well, I have to say there were a few gems but it was all in all a little disappointing this year. And it was a shame that our girl had to cope with a stage invasion. But having just seen the final result, Israel have done it. A true testament to Eurovision. Well done, Netta. You absolute legend.

I feel like I haven't been as funny this year, but then you can only comment on what you see and there were perhaps one too many ballads and normal pop songs this year and not enough grannies churning butter whilst ice skaters lurk behind you wearing ski masks. I mean, come on Eurovision. We need the nonsense and the absolute monstrosities. Anyhoo we are done for another year.

This is Rants signing off....

 

High Waisted Jeans, Multi Sport Championships and Other Distractions

Hey there. It's been a while. I'd apologise, but I've been busy. Busy attempting to compile submissions of my latest novel. Busy watching too much Commonwealth Games. Busy writing emails that largely go unread. Busy eating chocolate and putting on weight. You know? Busy!

Yesterday I got on the Overground train, where there isn't really a crazy rush hour, so it's quite pleasant when you have to take it in what would otherwise be construed as rush hour. And a stop after me, a young woman got on, probably in her mid to late twenties. I moved aside to let her past me - and my giant backpack on wheels that I have to cart all my instruments around in - and she just brushed past this guy stood on the other side of the carriage from me. Just a light brush, nothing really. And anyone travelling in London on any form of transport expects more than a light brush past from their fellow commuters. But he was instantly enraged and he physically shoved her away and told her to fuck off and just stay away from him. The entire carriage turned towards him but he held his ground and she shrank away, though she did say back that she hadn't done anything.

I asked if she was alright and she was gently carried off by other passengers to stand in a 'safer' part of the train, away from the massive man who could probably crush most of us with his bare hands. Not joking. The guy was super tall and built like a brick wall. And he continued to mutter to himself about not touching him, and just staying away from him.

And believe me, we were. This huge arc of space opened up around him, which is difficult to achieve on an 8.30 train, even if it's not usually crazy full. Every single woman in the carriage, which was around eighty percent of the carriage, had their eyes on him. If he had made another move, I think at least ten of us would have jumped on him and scratched his eyes out. They looked primed and ready to go. It's certainly one way to bring a bunch of strangers together.

And at every subsequent stop, there was a communal intake of breath - will he be getting off here and then we can relax? - which had to be let out because he stayed on almost as long as I did. I can honestly say there were a lot of us reading books, but we had one eye on the guy the entire time. Losing yourself in the narrative was not an option.

Eventually, he started collecting his stuff to leave, and he must have felt the hatred in the eyes that glared at him. He must have been feeling that all along the journey, and he started making his way into the other side of the carriage. Again, all eyes followed. And I saw his head bobbing between people and then a hand raised for a high five. He had gone back to the woman and apologised to her.
And then he got off the train and we let out our collective breath knowing that the threat was gone.

The apology doesn't get him off the hook. Not in my eyes. I mean, how many times will he do it again? And it could be worse. So much worse. What if that person had been elderly? What if the person had fallen down? What if the person had been pregnant? What if the person had been a child or teenager? However, the fact that he even went over to apologise to her was certainly not something I had expected. Though, perhaps the force of a hundred or so eyes staring you down the entire journey could physically move you to do something?

So there you go. Never a dull moment...

Now, I need to vent about high waist jeans. They are uncomfortable as fuck! If you sit down in them, they shove themselves, button first, into your stomach reserves. And just try eating in them, you'll wish you were in your pyjamas. I'm telling you. All my jeans have always sat on the hip and have been wide leg or flared - I still shun the skinny and always will. However, the only flared jeans you can get now are high waist and super uncomfortable. I long for the early 00s again, when jeans were fabulous.

And I know the chocolate eating doesn't help, but they make me feel confined and give me really bad trapped wind. Yes, I said it. They're uncomfortable and restrictive and it's such a shame because I bought two pairs. I do really like the way they look but I feel like I'll have to lose half a stone to be able to wear them remotely comfortably, and only when stood up. They are a standing jean. most definitely. Most of the time if I'm sat down the button is open. At the cinema, in the house, the button is open. Well, in the house I often give up and go and put on comfy trousers or pyjama bottoms.

I really wouldn't have coped with the time of corsets would I? I like to be able to breath and move and sit and walk and eat comfortably. I hate feeling squashed or restrained. Ah well, with this nice weather, I'll more like be in my shorts and they're super comfy. Hooray!

I miss the Commonwealth Games, though on the other hand, I'm glad it's over, because there were way too many distractions. If it wasn't the first five days of Gymnastics, then it was the next five days of Athletics. And if it wasn't either of those, then it was Netball and Beach Volleyball and Hockey and Swimming and Diving - really, where do they put their willies in those teeny shorts? - and if you're really procrastinating, you'll even get involved in the Lawn Bowls. Yes, there I said it. I became involved in the Lawn Bowls. Don't judge me. I just love a multi sport championship, clearly even more than writing my synopses. Well obviously. I freakin' hate writing synopses. And the fact that every agent wants a different length is just about killing me. I have to make four different synopses and I have yet to write one. Yay!

And so, I sit here and write this blog - yet another distraction, but a welcome one - whilst men in high- vis vests stomp by my window, on the fifth floor, because of the annoying scaffolding that will be up until September. My view is blocked. The sunlight is blocked and they have put some weird blue netting up, which is great in that no one can get in from the outside, but it also completely warps the view and the reality of the sky outside. And they drill and they stomp and they sometimes sing, and they peer in through the windows, but I can't always have them closed. I need some natural light.

Last thing. And I know I complain about this every time a friend of mine has a kid, but the card situation and the gender being determined by blue and pink has to stop! I liked lots of cards but they were specifically for a baby boy, just because they had elements of blue on them, and my friends have just had a girl. Now, we all know my hatred for the colour pink, but this just fuels it. And so, I had to search for a card with other colours, different wording and eventually found one with a big yellow sun that said: Welcome Little One. Is that so hard? Thank you Caroline Gardner, courtesy of Paperchase.

Alas, I must go. Parent emails will not write themselves, though I would bloody love if it they did. And then I must Synopsisise - I'm just make words up now - because they certainly don't write themselves either.

Thanks for reading.
Enjoy the sunshine.

Rants

More Tales from the Underground

Hello Readers. How is January treating you? I know it can be a sucker punch of a month, when you're already feeling a little larger than usual after the Christmas celebrations, and tired of the rain and cold, and stupid storms with ridiculous names - which I guess they give them in order to humanise them, and then you have a name to yell as you shout to the skies and curse them for all eternity. And that return to work or study or school is like going out into said, absurdly named storm, wearing only underwear, but still, the year has to start somewhere, right?

In this rant I'd like to tell you about two things that happened on the tube this week. I am using the tube and trains a lot more than I used to do, and thankfully, the 46 bus less and less. We all know how I feel about that stringy turd of a bus route.

And so, I'll start with the annoying thing that happened to me yesterday. I was sat reading my Italian Short Stories for Intermediate Readers book - oh yes, I'm intermediate now. Whoop. Though I still have to underline a lot of words and circle things in a WTF does that mean sort of way - when two women sat either side of me and as the train moved off, they both encroached on me with their elbows, taking over both arm rests and caging me in. I'm not sure how they expected me to make myself any smaller. It was like I wasn't even there. Rude.

I tried to fight back, silently, by rearranging myself and trying to fan out my elbows a bit, but the territory had been staked. I mean, I expect this from men, but women of the world, I thought we were together in solidarity. I thought we looked out for one another. If you start this, then there's no escape. I will be forever trapped between other people's elbows. Though I can't really ask women to stop this because men do it all the time and I'm all about equality. But hey, stop it! All of you. I need space too.

And then to the wonderful thing that happened on Wednesday. I was reading my Sylvia Plath Letters Home book, though it's more of a brick, and some guy taps me on the shoulder and gestures for me to take out my ear buds. I oblige and then we have a lovely conversation about the book and about Plath and how incredible she was, and how young, and how tragic it was. And people say nobody talks to each other in London and we hate strangers and we all keep to ourselves and it's unfriendly and a hostile place to live. And I say, bugger off.

Yes, people mainly keep to themselves, but that could be for any number of reasons and when you do have these moments with complete strangers, bonding over a pair of incredible shoes, or a haircut that you think is gorgeous and you just have to tell the person, or you notice someone reading a book by an author you love, or you see someone writing sheet music whilst sat on the floor of the train and you want to comment, then these moments become even more special.

Thank you book guy. And please everyone, watch those elbows. I have as much right to arm rests as you do.

Just a short one today. Thanks for reading.

Rants

A Year of Running: 2017

This blog was supposed to be written over the Christmas break in between Italian feasts and northern delights, but unfortunately it didn't happen.

For those of you that don't know, 2017 was a big fundraising year for me. I set myself a challenge to run ten x ten kilometre runs over the course of the year, with the extra challenge of getting under ten hours time for the lot. As always my fundraising was for the wonderful Nordoff-Robbins Music Therapy Charity. And I was hoping to make around £300 towards the incredible work they do there, transforming lives through music. https://www.nordoff-robbins.org.uk/

I had finished 2016 with a new PB of 57.02 and was desperate to continue my fast streak, and so my first run of the year was a chilly Saturday morning in Victoria Park and it turns out I run quite fast when it's cold but calm.

Race 1: Victoria Park Saturday 14th January 2017: The One Where I got a PB!

 

With my musical socks, skirt and scarf on, and a banner on my back explaining my fundraising goals, I set off wearing number 1333 for my first run of the year. Sadly, my charity t-shirt was hidden underneath the long sleeved layer I had to wear as it was a trifle cold that morning. But I was wearing it.

And so, with no kilometre markers, only mile markers, and a three lap course, I set off feeling confident and just wanting to get under the hour. As I passed the mile markers, I realised I was actually going quite fast and tried to keep up the pace. This was the run where I actually realised that 10 km is not 6 miles, it's actually 6.2 miles - I know, I've done a lot of these races and should have noticed that sooner, but when you deal with kilometre markers then you just don't question it. And so, I actually passed through 6 miles at about 54 minutes, not realising that I had another 0.2 of a mile to go. Anyhoo, I crossed the line in 56.18, smashing my previous PB and making a great start to the challenge.

1 race down, 9 to go and currently 3.42 under time. Whoop!

With my medal and banana at the finish. Happy Helen.











Race 2: Lee Valley Velopark Saturday 25th February 2017: The One That Broke Me

I knew this race would be tough, as I had run the Velopark mile before as part of the Newham Anniversary Run, which runs every year in July to mark the anniversary of the 2012 Olympic games. There are a lot of ups and downs and it would be six laps of the same mile course, with those extra 0.2 of a mile at the beginning.

What I hadn't factored in was that we were being visited by various storms that week. I think it was the tail end of Doris and the beginning of Ewan, which made an already tough course, even tougher. And the only flat, straight bit, had the wind pushing against you. This run was not fun. I was not  happy. The least said, the better.



I hadn't even brought my phone with me to take a photograph, but a lovely fellow runner, pinned my fundraising message on my back and sent me this photo on twitter. Thank you for that.

However, with a time of 61.25. Boo! And extremely sore legs, this was definitely one to forget.

2 runs down, 8 to go and currently 2.17 under target.

Run 3: Hyde Park Sunday 26th March 2017: The One That Felt Really Tough

The only picture I have from this run is a professional photo that I bought afterwards. Usually I don't bother but look at me beating all those men. Ha ha. Anyway, you'll have to take my word for it. I was cold, I was tired and it felt much longer than two 5 km laps, but I made it in 58.36 and it was good to be back under the hour.



3 down, 7 to go and currently 3 minutes 41 under time.

Run 4: Peckham 10 km Saturday 6th May 2017: The One With That was Badly Organised

Oh dear this run was badly organised. From the mile long queues to be told your running number, only to then have to queue to pick up your physical number, to the quest to find which tree was the start line, this was an interesting one. No official timing, so I had my timing watch and some very inconsistent kilometre markers.

  Apparently this tree is the start line. Who knew?


Here's me on the sprint finish.
  And here's me and partner after finishing. I'm not going to lie to you, I prefer running alone. But on a day like that it was lovely to have someone to vent frustrations with and laugh it out.

4 down, 6 to go and currently 5.11 under time.

Race 5: Vitality 10,000 Green Park Monday 29th May 2017: The One Where I was Ill

I love the Vitality 10,000 run every Bank Holiday at the end of May. I run it every year regardless of whether I am fundraising. I love the course, which is fast and mostly flat. I love the big event feeling. And despite feeling terribly ill and knowing I probably shouldn't run, I did anyway. And I am so glad I did! Finishing in 58.27 without the ability to breathe through my nose, was definitely an achievement and of course I will be back there this year at my favourite run.



5 down, 5 to go and currently 6.44 under time. Half way!

Race 6: Turks Head 10 km Sunday 11th June 2017: The One That was Extremely Hot

I was supposed to run this race with a friend and then my partner, but due to illnesses and other reasons, I ran it alone. And they called it a fun run, but for me it was anything but fun, it was about times and the challenge and waiting minutes to cross foot bridges, and on one of the hottest days of the year so far, I found myself melting.

To finish with a time of 60.01 was actually quite impressive as I had to wait at various river bridge crossings and at times we were running in the roads dodging traffic and other runners as the pavements were super narrow. But it was definitely a change from the hyper organised Vitality run.



6 down, 4 to go and currently 6.43 under target.

Race 7: Newham Anniversary Run Sunday 2nd July 2017: The One Where I was Over the Moon

I have run this race four times out of the five it has been run, and I have always struggled due to the heat and that pesky mile in the Velopark, but this year I finally made it under an hour, and not just under an hour: 57.52. I was delighted! And we usually finish in the Olympic stadium by running 300 metres on the track, but as they were preparing for the Para World Athletics we instead sprinted the 100 metres. Usain Bolt eat your heart out.



7 down, 3 to go and currently 8.51 under time. Whoop!

Race 8: Lee Valley Velopark (Again) Saturday 30th September 2017: The One Where I Defeated the Velopark

Believe me, I did not want to brave the Velopark races again. It is an evil course and I still had the lingering memory of February's race in my mind. However, due to various weekend commitments, I had few other options and so I braved the Velopark for the second time.

This time I had a little sunshine and a bit of wind but no storms chasing me. And I smashed that course finishing in 57.13 which was my third fastest time ever at a 10 km. Yes! Yes! Yes!



8 down, 2 to go and currently 11.36 under time.

Race 9: Virtual Run Hampstead Heath: Sunday 22nd October 2017: The One Where I Smashed my PB

You might be thinking, virtual run? What? It was purchased for me by a friend for my birthday and I had to run in October and prove I had run a certain distance in order to claim the medal, which was a Nightmare Before Christmas themed medal with Jack Skellington on it. Cool or what? So I used a GPS timing watch and set off on Hampstead Heath, with no clear race path, and just kept going until we hit 10 km. (My partner was with me.)

I knew we had set off fast but I had no idea how fast until we completed just over 10 km in 55.32. Say what?!

   

9 down, 1 to go and currently 16.04 under target. Yes!

Normally, I would have run the Trick or Treat Halloween run as part of my challenge, however this year they changed it to a 5 km race. Boo! But anyhoo, I got a new PB at 5 km (26.02) after a night out - not too shabby - and here is a picture of me dressed as a pumpkin.

  

Race 10: Olympic Park Sunday 10th December 2017: The One Where it Snowed 

And so to the final race of the year and I was back at one of my favourite places in London: Olympic Park. This was the course I had run last year and gained a huge PB at, and so I was confident and also knew I had a lot of leeway with the time. However, I did not counter in the snow factor.

My feet were soggy throughout. The slush and wet floor was slippery, and even the tube failed us, so I only arrived five minutes before the start. I had just enough time to pin on my number and go. No warm up, no stretches. Eek.

It snowed the entire time and my feet were practically numb, but actually running in the snow was tough but fun. I had never run in the snow before and I even met an elf along the way who had a nice chat with me.

To finish in under an hour, in those conditions was a proud moment, and not only that, but the end of my challenge for the year. And I smashed it! Finishing that race in 58.43 meant that after 10 races, my culminated time was 9 hours 42 minutes 39 seconds, which was 17.21 under target.



I would like to do a huge shout out to http://www.runthrough.co.uk/ who are a fantastic race organising team and four of my ten charity runs were taken care of by them. They are fantastically run and always full of helpful, supportive volunteers. I love my banana after the race and all the great themed medals.

Also, a huge shout out to the Vitality 10,000 which is a wonderful run that I take part in every year. If you like a big race and want to feel part of something huge, then the course is flat and fast and so well organised. I love it. https://www.vitalitylondon10000.co.uk/

Finally, I raised a whopping £354.94 for Nordoff-Robbins and would like to thank all my sponsors and friends who have supported me along the way. What a great year of running and I may be getting older, but I seem to be getting faster too. Bring on 2018!

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Helen-Richards16

Thank you for reading.

Rants (Helen)