Check for Pigeons

So the pigeons are back with a vengeance, trying to make a nest on the balcony. I don't think so. The amount of times I have to bang on the balcony door, I swear one time I'll go through it. I mean, granted, we've got a lot of crap on the balcony. It is a dumping ground for things we need to take to the big recycling - that could remain there for up to two years - old plant pots, the paint that we still need to finish the kitchen with, and all a tiny 1.5 by 2.5 metre space. So I get it pigeons, it's cosy. It has all these cool places to hide your nest away, and you'll feel safe with your little ones. But it's my bloody balcony. It's not a nesting ground and you're turning me into a paranoid person. With every sound I'm rushing to the window to shoo them away and sometimes they're not even there. But then other times they are proudly patrolling the small bit of clear walk space, like it's their territory. They are certainly getting cocky. Sitting on the railing, looking in, nosy little buggers. Ever get the feeling you're being watched? You probably are. Check for pigeons.

Does anybody else do the egg panic? When you've got four eggs left and the use by date is in two days, but you're really busy and don't think you'll have chance to use them? No? Anyone? But then you get home exhausted on a Wednesday after eight very full music classes, having pulled something in your shoulder, which makes up your mind that you definitely won't be going to Swing Dance. And then, your mind remembers those four eggs: I can bake things so I won't waste the eggs. No really, does anyone else do this? I ended up making a batch of cranberry and white chocolate cookies, most of which went in the freezer, for a rainy day, or a day when you just want to eat cookies. Either way. And I also made two small apple tea cakes. Again, both in the freezer until needed. Unfortunately, I then ran out of flour, butter and caster sugar and so one egg did go to waste, but at least I managed to use three of them. Ah, the good old egg panic.

So you may or may not know that I actually joined this modern technological century we're living in, granted several years behind times, but I'm there so stop complaining.  And I now own a smart phone. I'll wait a moment whilst you pick yourself up off the floor. I know, it's quite a shock. *Waiting*

Okay, are we all up now? Good. So his name is Gilbert and he's been mine about two months. It was tough to change over as I had issues with getting my PAC code, but he's officially mine - adopted from A of course, there's no way I could have afforded an iPhone. And we've already had a slight mishap. I dropped him last week during a long walk in Epping Forest, and despite his tough look, he crumbled like Madeira cake. Luckily, A knew of a fabulous place behind Goodge Street called Lovefone. They replaced the whole screen in about 10 minutes. Bish, bash, bosh. Job done. And Gilbert is renewed to his former self. I highly recommend these guys if you're in central London and in need of a phone repair. You can ring them or book online for a slot and they will fit you in when they can. All parts, except batteries, come with a life time warranty. https://www.lovefone.co.uk/ And they saved the day because I was absolutely gutted with a completely shattered screen, and then a few hours later, they fixed it. Thank you Lovefone.

Whilst writing this I have been beating the door to shoo away the pigeons. It is a constant barrage. But I will not be defeated. I will stand my ground. I was here first and the balcony is mine! (Well technically ours, I mean A lives here too, but for the purposes of this blog, mine sounds better.) I don't even want to leave for a run, as I'm convinced I'll come back and they'll have moved in with their extended family, maybe a few cousins and an elderly aunt or something. What exactly are the squatters' rights of pigeons? Or is this just me trying to get out of a training run?

Hmmmm, Definitely time to post this and get my ass off to Hampstead for a run. Thanks for reading.
Happy long weekend to you all.

Rants

It's Just One of Those Weeks

'It's just one of those weeks,' is a phrase used often to convey all the shitty things that happen, that really squash you down in the quagmire. It's usually accompanied by a sigh and a head tilt down. You know the movements. You've done it hundreds of times, I'm sure. I find it quite a useful phrase because whilst the reasons behind your week will be different to someone else's, you don't need to explain further. Those six words are enough. 'It's just one of those weeks.' Bam. Done. Sentiments conveyed. 

Alternatives to this phrase are of course the shorter time period: 'It's just one of those days.'

And of course the ones no one really wants to experience: 'It's just one of those months.' Or even worse, 'It's just one of those years.' Though of course there will be some form of hope or light or silver lining within these longer time periods, otherwise life would be a constant sigh. 

So as you might have guessed, this week was one of those weeks for me, and whilst I don't need to explain further, it wouldn't be much of a blog if I didn't. But alas, do not fear, the week wasn't a total disaster and so this rant will be split into two sections: 

• The things that killed my week
• The things that saved my week. 

The Things That Killed My Week

• Monday

On Monday I was forgotten. I was an inconvenience. I ruined people's plans. On Monday I was shat all over. On Monday I was livid!

I arrived to teach at my newest school. I have been there 10 weeks. I go every Monday unless I am on half term break. And so, I arrive on an unusually sunny and warm Monday morning to find half of my Toddler class leaving the premises for a trip to the park. Now, I have no problem with the children taking trips and I think they should have lots of outdoor play, but not in the half hour window that I have to teach them, and not when their parents have paid for a service which I am supposed to provide. The looks on the faces of the staff were incredible. Like me turning up on time, for my lesson, when I'm supposed to, was such an inconvenience to them - not me, but them! - and that I'd ruined their day. 

But as always, I couldn't lose my shit, because the children were there and it's not fair on them, and I would never subject them to an angry, or even heated discussion with the staff whilst they were in ear shot. However, I was particularly angry and peeved because this is not the first time they've 'forgotten' I was coming. Their only comment was: 'We were just going to the park.' I mean, what can even you say to that? You shouldn't be going to the park right now. I need these children in music class. Are you morons? And ultimately, why didn't the manager or upper echelons - another incredible word - stop them from going out?  

Anyhoo, I put on my Little Miss Diplomatic hat, and told them they had to be back in half an hour and I would see if I could teach the Preschool class first. It didn't give them long in the park, but really they should have offered to bring the children back, which of course they didn't. So, I enter the school, I ask if the Preschool class would be ready for a lesson now and I am told they are going to the park. At this point they're lucky I'm still wearing the hat because there are no children present and I'm seething. Needless to say, I persuade them otherwise, possibly through the look on my face, and it all works out. But I keep thinking: the new term starts at the end of April, we'll probably be having lots of nice weather. Are they going to do this every week? And so I sent a rather heated email to the managers to explain my thoughts on this matter. 

Sadly, it doesn't end there. The child I teach on Monday asked me to fill in a form for him, for school and in the past his mum had commented on how I should have filled it in because it's quicker, and I thought oh, okay, this must have come from her. And I filled it in with his help, but of course I got something wrong and then I felt terrible and really I shouldn't trust the nine year old to give me all the information. 

And finally, what should have been a bright spot in the week, my final Italian lesson, was a bit of a dirge. I worked really hard on this written homework and she didn't even ask us to read them out, or collect them in to read herself. I spent a lot of time on it and being me it wasn't a short piece of writing. And nothing. Boo. Okay, enough of Monday. Shitty all round. 

• Tuesday

Tuesday morning I was super productive. I was up early and working and sorting things for music class. I left on time and was excited for my last class of the term, when the bus decided not to come for 25 minutes. So I called to say I would be late. I HATE BEING LATE! Then the bus did that annoying thing where it stopped to change drivers and got stuck in a mass of traffic at King's Cross. So I arrived 20 minutes late for my lesson. I have never arrived 20 minutes late for a music class in my life. I also had the rest of my morning and early afternoon cleverly planned out because I still had 8 reports to write for Wednesday. But of course everything was then delayed and I only managed to get 4 of the 8 reports done before my afternoon work. Bollocks.

• Wednesday

I seem to be increasingly in the way. I seem to be an inconvenience everywhere I go. And so, another day of teaching, another bought of shit. The schools I work at use a particular educational philosophy - I won't expand on that only to say that the teachers of this educational philosophy often tend to be very rigid. They have little flexibility in their ways and times and I find flexibility is essential when working with children of all ages. That's all I will say on that matter. But, I was essentially booted off the nice large carpeted area in order for the children to be able to take their activities back and forth from the table and, essentially I'm in their way. I was shoved in the book corner which meant the children sitting on a small rug and me sitting on the hard floor. Yay! 

Now what really kicked me in the teeth was the fact that all morning, and I taught three classes in there, none of the children were using the equipment from the shelves around the carpet area. None of them were doing their work cycle, and most of them were standing behind me, climbing over me, walking through the circle where I was teaching, and running around screaming. So I spent most of my lessons asking the other children to go away, screaming over the din in the room and longing for a carpet to sit on. Why I am getting a numb bum on hard floors when you're not even doing what you said you'd be doing? Knobs.  

Now these were my last classes before my Easter break. I take two weeks off at Easter, mainly for my sanity after writing 60 reports, and every year I get these comments: 'Oh, two weeks, it's alright for some.' 'That must be nice.' 'I wish I had two weeks off.' *Takes deep breath before launching into a rant that's been brewing for some time*

I am self-employed. Yes, two weeks off is amazing, but in those two weeks off I am not paid. I have no money. I will earn zilch! Whenever I take a holiday, I have to pay for that holiday but I get no holiday pay. Again, earning nothing when paying for things. I think some people just don't get it. They go on holiday and they are still paid for their time away. I am not. If I don't work I don't have any money. I don't get sick pay so I have to work even if I am sick, or I have to refund, so I lose money. Everything that happens is reliant on me. There is only me. I am a one person operation. Anything goes wrong, it's on me. Etc. Etc. So whilst there are some perks for being self-employed. Holidays whenever you want, are not really one of them. And I would appreciate less comments on the matter. 

The final catastrophe was when the hoover broke down, again, whilst I was half way through the hoovering and A's parents were on the way for a visit. And I still had to clean the kitchen and prepare dinner for everyone........ And breathe. 

• Thursday

New tax year. Urgh. That means I need to start thinking about my self-assessment tax return. Again. How does it come around so quickly? And you know all those things that you think you're going to do through the year, like keep up with your expenses list, and working out your travel as you go along? This is the point where you realise you didn't do anything of that. Oops. 

I also had 40 parent emails to do, which took forever because my mind was doing that thing where it wanders around and acts out scenes from my novels, and just generally severs ties with concentration. It was painful but I got them done. 

Things That Saved My Week

• Monday was a total write off. Nothing saved my week on Monday. Nothing!
• Tuesday was saved by my good friend Claire, amazingly exciting pizza and a large glass of wine. Thank you Claire. Also, I had started reading 'Is It Just Me?' By Miranda Hart, and it was just what I needed. You really have to hold back the laughter on public transport. 
• Wednesday was saved by A arriving home just before his parents arrived so we could all eat risotto together. 
• Thursday was saved by a conversation with an adult, buying a gorgeous dress in the sale, and Mexican food. A truck load of Mexican food.
• Friday was saved by a 7.5 km run, hopefully burning off some of said Mexican food. 

I think my point is that whilst you may be having 'one of those weeks', there will always be a bright spot. There will be something that can reconfirm your faith in humanity or simply make you smile. And even if that moment is gone too soon, it happened and it's there for you to hold onto through the shitty quagmire. 

Thanks for reading. I hope you're having a better week, though granted it was mainly Monday to Wednesday that whipped me into a frenzy. I hope you can enjoy a relaxing end to the week and soak up some sunshine. 

Rants out. 

Shitruary

Anyone else have a shit February? It's definitely taken over as shittest month of the year for me. Last year January held that title, but this year I kept a really positive outlook in January. I managed to do a complete edit of my - as yet untitled - novel that I wrote last year; I produced another personal best over ten kilometres; my other half completed his law studies; and I read twelve books towards this year's tally. Not too shabby.

Then February reared its spiteful head, shedding doubt on every project I had going. Somehow it had the ability to drain me of every ounce of energy, whilst making me pissed off and angry, which takes even more energy. I think it must have made a secret pact with the large negative portion of my brain, that sabotage was the way forward. I didn't want to go out for training runs. I wasn't writing much or editing. Novels were taking me days and days to get through. It was like the whole month was me wading through knee high thick sludge, and getting nowhere fast.

And then as I approached the end of the month, I had another charity ten kilometre race, which should have been fun but was actually a hellish sixty one and a half minutes (over five minutes slower than January's PB) that I had no joy from at all. Which was followed by a night of babysitting, which should have ended at 11.30pm and instead had me there until 01.30am, with no contact from the parents after 11.50pm, leaving me worried sick and so close to calling the Police. I couldn't get hold of either of them by mobile. My phone had suddenly decided to revolt and wasn't going to send messages, and I had this overwhelming panic in my stomach. Turns out, they were fine, just drunk and 'lost track of time'. I was worried sick and exhausted. And I found out the next day that my Dad had been in an accident whilst night orienteering and had to go to A & E.

I've never been more thankful for a short month.

Then completely unrelated: Last night in Italian class I was so close to losing my shit. I was sat with two women who are actually teachers of other subjects at the same college, and they both speak loads of languages and are language teachers. I know, bad move. So we were doing some group work and I was enjoying it because it was a spoken exercise that allowed us to talk about our past using various past tenses and I needed some practise with this. So we started off well, and I could do it, and my answer was longer than one sentence and I felt good about it. And then, the teacher comes over and gives us a different thing to do that no other group in the class is doing and it's a written exercise. I can write. I don't need writing practise, I need to feckin' speak the language.

But we were the chosen ones and so, give up on the useful activity we did. Have you ever been put in a group with one person that is so dominating and controlling? I can relate.

So, basically we had to come up with a story, and then we all had to tell the same story, changing a few details, and the rest of the class had to guess which of us was telling the truth. Or, we could have carried on doing the useful exercise that I actually needed and wanted to do. Urgh! Why did I sit there? So, this woman completely took over, racing ahead at breakneck speed, and I let her. But she just kept on adding and adding to the story, saying it wasn't long enough. Now I'm not exactly Miss Brevity, but come on, this was just an anecdote that had to be told three times in the class, she didn't need the next War and bloody Peace.

I was already ticked off at this point, because she wouldn't listen to me about anything, but I kept it together. But then later, in pair work - which most of the time I wish didn't exist - she completely took over, barely giving me enough time to read the pissin' questions, let alone fill in the blanks. And then she was so condescending. 'Are you okay? Do you get it?' Fuck off, I'm not a moron. Just because I questioned a couple of your answers - which it turns out I was right to - doesn't mean I'm an idiot. Maybe if you slowed down a bit, I might be able to partake in the exercise. I mean, come on, I already feel like an idiot most days in class, but to have a woman who speaks five other languages sat there, telling me to think of the French......... At this point I actually broke. I said something along the lines of: I'm an ignorant Brit who doesn't speak seventeen other languages, so telling me how it is in the French is really not helping. Of course I said it with a smile on my face, we wouldn't want her to think I was an angry, pissed off northerner.

I did take a little pleasure in the ones she got wrong. Of course it meant I had gotten them wrong too, but at least I'd questioned them. I hate that most of the time I give in to the louder, more dominant voices and hide mine. I'm not some scared little sheep, so why do I act that way in the presence of adults? Why are adults so scary to me? Why do I always feel inferior? Okay, this is starting to sound like some sort of therapy session. Sorry Rants readers.

It's also half an hour until I have to leave to teach, and these Ariel pyjamas won't exactly cut it as outfit of the day. I needed to get that out about last night's lesson as I could feel myself still angry about it this morning. Thank you for listening.

Rants

Sorry, Sweat, Singing and Switches.

Oh my, it's my first rant of 2017. Jeez I'm slow to get going this year. Now this one is all about the S's. And I'm going to start with switches. Ah, switches, specifically light switches. You flick them on and off and the lights respond. One might say, it's magic. But then, cue a gadget mad man who wants to have a smart home and gets the stupid Amazon Echo for Christmas, and suddenly I am no longer in control of my lights. She is. Alexa. The one who inhabits the Echo.

Now having to walk in your living room and ask the disembodied robot voice to turn on your lights is not only weird but it's also slower than actually flicking the switch on, especially as half the time she chooses not to understand what you say, or not to connect to the Wi-Fi. And in the morning, you creep in, desperate not to wake said gadget mad man as he's just finished his law degree, and you whisper to Alexa to turn the lights on and she screams in reply: 'You asked me so nicely, but I'm sorry I didn't understand the question.' At which point everyone in the building is awake and I'm cursing her and running around trying to shut doors and shut her up. (I may have slightly over exaggerated here, but it was fookin' loud.)

Now, I'm a nice, polite person, considerate of others and all that jazz, and I started to get used to her and I thanked her every time she put the lights on, or switched them off, even though she's not real and I know that, I really do. But when I came home one night and sang her name, and asked her through the power of song to switch on the lights, and she didn't even respond, that was the final straw. You bitch. I am singing to you and you don't listen. I mean, you responded to the TV when we were watching an episode of The Good Wife and someone yelled Alicia and it switched you on. That's not even your name! And she responded when someone was face timing us and they said Alexa all the way from Exeter through the screen to switch her on. But a song from me: nothing.

And now, we have a new switch on the wall, so I don't even have to talk to Alexa anymore. I mean, it's not my original switches and I fear they may never be used again, but at least I can control the brightness of the lights, though I still don't like that fact that it controls all three lights at the same time, Sometimes I just want one light on. Fookin' smart homes, ain't so smart. They don't know what you want and you still have to work at it. And yes, my mind is stuck in the 20th Century and I'm quite happy about that.

Okay, so that covers the singing and switches. Now onto the sweating and sorry. We started swing dance classes two weeks ago and not only is it amazing fun, but it is a shit hot work out. An hour of bouncing around and practising steps. The first week I was so out of breath and my legs were killing me. But this week was so much better and I was able to keep up. I could have stayed an extra hour. I have to say though, we did think we'd be dancing just the two of us together, learning the moves, cutting up the dance floor. Ha ha, how wrong we were.

These dance classes don't require people to have a partner, because they split you leaders and followers (I had such an issue with this in the first week, because I don't want to be a follower just because I'm a woman. I hadn't realised just how sexist dancing was until I tried to take part in it. But then it's a battle isn't it? Do I really want to be lifting grown men - if we ever make it as far as lifts - and twirling them around? But then why can't I lead? Ahhhhhhhhhh! So I gave in and became a follower, though I don't like to think of it like that, and quite often I was leading the leader because they weren't doing the move on the correct beat. But still, that was a tough pill to swallow.) and then you all the learn the steps and you rotate partners throughout the lesson, so you end up dancing with twenty or thirty random people. Fun, fun, fun, except for the sweat factor.

That first week I had underestimated how warm it would get dancing the Charleston and had put too many layers on. Needless to say, sweat ensued. But then you realised that everyone else was sweating too. And then came the apologies. Ah, we Brits do love to apologise. I'm sorry. Oh, I'm so sorry. Sorry. Ha ha. But then you look across and see the guys sweating through their shirts and you think, ah well, I'm not the only one. The guys had to hold your back and we had to hold their shoulders in a side by side dance, so there was a lot of touching and sweaty wetness. This week was a little better, as we were in tandem, one in front of the other and we only had to touch by hands. A lot less apologising. And a lot less sweat on sweat. Still, it is so freakin' fun. I can't wait for next week.

Before I go, I must leave you with an oil alien that I created last night, when I splashed some oil in a pan. I was making risotto and just about to fry the pancetta, when I discovered that my flick of the wrist had created this little beauty.

Happy Friday.

Rants

My Year in Books 2016

Wow, what a year of reading I've had. Not only some corkers published this year, but some oldies and some re-reads and of course some challenges. Within my year of books was a small reading challenge. There were twelve categories to complete and I'm pleased to have completed all twelve; the final challenge completed this morning at about 9.45am. Nothing like cutting it close. I will highlight the books read for the reading challenge in red, and state their criteria.

So for now, here's my year in books. I hope it provides some ideas and inspirations. For each month I will select my favourite book - highlighted in blue - and explain why. And fingers crossed I've surpassed last year's total of 105 books. In case you didn't know, Rants loves to read!

Books I read in January

1. The Traitor: Seth Dickinson
2. Ketchup Clouds: Annabel Pitcher (Kindle)
3. The School for Good and Evil (Book #1): Soman Chainani (Kindle)
4. All the Light we Cannot See: Anthony Doer (Kindle)
5. Alias Grace: Margaret Atwood
6. Everything, Everything: Nicola Yoon (Reading Challenge - A book you can finish in a day.)
7. Deeply Odd (Odd Thomas #6): Dean Koontz
8. On Writing: Stephen King

January was a good mix of library books and kindle books. There was also a mixture of genres, adult books and YA. And choosing a favourite from this great haul was tricky, but I think Anthony Doer's tale of two teenagers and their separate, yet eventually interconnecting plight through World War 2, just pips Ketchup Clouds for the top spot. There are so many layers to the story. You see the war from both sides: French and German, yet at the heart of it is the hunt for a cursed diamond. It is simply and beautifully put out there and will stay with you. 

But, if you haven't read any Annabel Pitcher yet, please, go, do it! She's amazing. I had the joy of seeing her at YALC this year too.

Books I read in February 

1. Allegiant (Divergent #3): Veronica Roth
2. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (HP #4): J.K. Rowling (A re-read for HP Book Night)
3. The Sleeping Prince (The Sin Eater's Daughter #2): Melinda Salisbury (Reading Challenge - A book published this year.)
4. Monster: C.J Kruse (Kindle)
5. MaddAddam (MaddAddam #3): Margaret Atwood
6. Fangirl: Rainbow Rowell (kindle)
7. A World Without Princes (The School for Good and Evil #2): Soman Chainani (Kindle)
8. Prince of Thorns: Mark Lawrence

February was a bit of a series reading month. I love a good series. I completed another section of the reading challenge and racked up another few kindle reads. Top honour this month goes to the goddess of dystopia: Margaret Atwood, with the final installment of the MaddAddam trilogy. This woman is so terrifyingly accurate that you feel this is not so much a dystopian future, but a dystopian tomorrow. I can't recommend Margaret Atwood enough. She is amazing!

Books I read in March

1. Aquarium: David Vann
2. Death Comes to Pemberley: P.D. James
3. Saint Odd (Odd Thomas #7): Dean Koontz
4. Lady Midnight (The Dark Artifices #1): Cassandra Clare (kindle)
5. The Ghosts of Sleath: James Herbert (Reading Challenge - A book chosen for you by your spouse, partner, sibling, child or BFF.)
6. Kindred Spirits: Rainbow Rowell
7. Stormbreaker: Anthony Horowitz
8. Movers: Meaghan McIssac
9. The Winner's Kiss (The Winner's Trilogy #3): Marie Rutkoski (Kindle)
10. See How They Run (Embassy Row #2): Ally Carter

March was a great month. I finally finished Odd Thomas' literary journey. Thank you Dean Koontz. The final installment of Marie Rutkoski's incredible Winner's trilogy came out. And the new Cassie Clare series hit the shelves. But, I also tried a few authors I hadn't read before and was pleasantly surprised. Choosing a winner from this month is so hard, so I'll procrastinate on that a little longer and talk about The Ghosts of Sleath. Finally a book that actually scared me, and it was my partner who chose it for me, after finding it in a second hand book store. Cheers A. Alright, I'll choose a winner. Of the four I had it narrowed down to, I have chosen the first book I read in the month: Aquarium. This dark tale is addictive. It's so truthful and heartbreaking. The setting, the family saga, the protagonist and her journey into her sexuality, it's beautifully done. 

Books I read in April

1. White Teeth: Zadie Smith (Reading Challenge - A book you've been meaning to read.)
2. S: JJ Abrams & Doug Dorst (Reading Challenge - A book you own but have never read.)
3. The Book Thief: Markus Zusak
4. We are Completely Beside Ourselves: Karen Joy Fowler
5. The Courilof Affair: Irene Nemirovsky
6. The Fire Sermon (The Fire Sermon #1): Francesca Haig (Kindle)
7. The Lottery and Other Stories: Shirley Jackson (Reading Challenge - A book recommended by your local librarian or bookseller.)
8. The Weight of Water: Sarah Crossan
9. I'd Tell You but I'd have to Kill You (Gallagher Girls #1): Ally Carter
10. Tape: Steve Camden
11. Salvage: Keren David

Well, I ticked off a few of my reading challenges this month. Not too shabby. I also started another two different series, and discovered the YA section at Holborn library, opening up so many possibilities. This month's favourite book is by the wonderful Sarah Crossan and is the portrayal of a Polish immigrant and her attempts to fit in to her new life in Britain. Written entirely in free verse, it is concise, every word poignantly picked, nothing wasted or embellished, just the honest truth and it is beautiful!

Books I read in May

1. Brooklyn: Colm Toibin
2. Am I Normal Yet? (The Spinster Club #1): Holly Borne (Kindle)
3. One: Sarah Crossan
4. When I was Joe: Keren David
5. The Bees: Laline Paul (Kindle)
6. The Last Wild (The Last Wild #1): Piers Torday (Kindle)
7. Almost True: Keren David (Sequel to When I was Joe)
8. The Jerusalem Puzzle: Laurence O'Bryan
9. Lolita: Vladimir Nabokov (Reading Challenge - A book that was banned at some point.)
10. Of Mice and Men: John Steinbeck (Reading Challenge - A book published before you were born.)
11. Rebel of the Sands (Rebel of the Sands #1): Alwyn Hamilton (Kindle)
12. The Butterfly Garden: Dot Hutchinson (Kindle)
13. The Diary of a Young Girl: Anne Frank (Kindle) (Reading Challenge - A book that you should have read in school.)

May was definitely my most prolific month, with 13 books read. Clearly I couldn't get enough literary sustenance. And I was flying through my reading challenge with only three challenges to go. The best of the month went to Anne Frank and her diary written during World War 2. The photographs and end notes were so poignant and it is a book I had been meaning to read for years. Thank you Anne for sharing your story with us. 

Books I read in June

1. Bluebeard's Egg: Margaret Atwood
2. Half a War (Shattered Sea Trilogy #3): Joe Abercrombie
3. In Twenty Years: Allison Winn Scotch (Kindle)
4. The Deptford Trilogy: Robertson Davies
5. Finding Audrey: Sophie Kinsella
6. Adorkable: Sarra Manning
7. The Uglies (The Uglies #1): Scott Westerfeld (Kindle)

June was a lighter month on the amount of books, though the Deptford Trilogy was humongous and it was actually three books in one. I couldn't decide on the top honours this month, so it is a shared honour between two YA books with fantastic heroines, great plots and really addictive reading. Thank you Sophie Kinsella and Sarra Manning. And I've seen you both speak at YALC which is very nice. 

Books I read in July

1. The Pretties (The Uglies #2): Scott Westerfeld (Kindle)
2. Amok: Sebastian Fitzek (Audible)
3. The Invisible Library (The Invisible Library #1): Genevieve Cogman (Kindle)
4. Death or Icecream?: Gareth P. Jones
5. The Apple Tart of Hope: Sarah Moore Fitzgerald
6. The Girl of Ink and Stars: Kiran Millwood Hargrave
7. A Kestral for a Knave: Barry Hines
8. How Hard Can Love Be? (Spinster Club #2): Holly Borne (Kindle)
9. Demon Road: Derek Landy

This month was quite YA heavy, which is not surprising with the Young Adult Literature Conference (YALC) taking place every July. Again I raided Holborn YA section and tried out a few new authors to boot. And my winner of the month for best book is definitely the second book in Holly Borne's Spinster Club series. You laugh, a lot. You become addicted to the fast paced story and the great characters. This is a feminist YA series about young girls realising they do have power and they are worth something and their ideas matter. It is about equality for all and it couldn't be done without cheesy snacks. 

Books I read in August

1. Way Down Dark (Australia #1): James Smythe (Kindle)
2. Cuckoo Song: Frances Hardinge (Kindle)
3. Falling into Place: Amy Zhang
4. Cell: Stephen King
5. The Demolished Man: Alfred Bester
6. Suite Fracaise: Irene Nemorovsky
7. Relentless: Dean Koontz
8. Under the Ivy - The Life and Music of Kate Bush: Graeme Thompson (Non-Fiction)
9. Kook: Chris Vick

New books galore here in my birthday month. I must mention Suite Francaise. It is a beautiful book, especially the first section which details the every day comings and goings of a town at war. So simple and elegantly expressed. It was a high contender for book of the month, but was just pipped by Frances Hardinge's Cuckoo Song, which I loved. This dark tale of a changeling, an imposter in the family, was greatly executed. 

Books I read in September

1. Metamorphosis: Franz Kafka (Kindle)
2. The Passage (The Passage #1): Justin Cronin (Re-read) (Reading Challenge - A book you've already read at least once.)
3. The Twelve (The Passage #2): Justin Cronin
4. Tiger Eyes: Judy Blume
5. Monsters: Emerald Fennell
6. The Masked Truth: Kelley Armstrong
7. Frontlines (Frontlines #1): Michael Grant
8. The City of Mirrors (The Passage #3): Justin Cronin

September was epic in terms of me finally completing the Justin Cronin trilogy. Wow. It meant I also got to re-read the first book, which not only put me right back in his world, but ticked off another reading challenge. The sheer scale of the work and the generations it encompasses are almost inconceivable. And yet, he did it. It is a masterful vampire trilogy, with none of the tropes you'd expect and everything you would not expect. I cannot shout it's praises enough. Sneaking the best book this month though, is my first ever Judy Blume read. Yes, I know, I should have already read them all, but I haven't, and I found Tiger Eyes in the library and I loved it!

Books I read in October

1. My Uncle Oswald: Roald Dahl
2. Mockstars: Chris Russell (Kindle)
3. We Have Always Lived in the Castle: Shirley Jackson
4. Ulysses: James Joyce (Reading Challenge - A book that intimidates you)
5. Railhead: Philip Reeve
6. Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: J.K. Rowling

My month of least literary yield, though I think you'll forgive me as Ulysses was one of them. And man did that take some reading. I will confess to not having a clue what was going on half the time, but it was a challenge and it did intimidate, and now it just baffles me a little. The book of the month had to be: We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. It is short and sweet and dark and consuming, and I will be reading it again soon. 

Books I read in November

1. Jonathan Unleashed: Meg Rosof (Kindle)
2. Skellig: David Almond
3. The Art of Letting Go: Chloe Banks (Kindle)
4. The Lie Tree: Frances Hardinge
5. A Song for Ella Grey: David Almond
6. Boys Don't Cry: Malorie Blackman
7. Black Ice: Becca Fitzpatrick
8. How Not to Disappear: Clare Furniss
9. The Ghosts of Heaven: Marcus Sedgewick
10. The Glass Demon: Helen Grant

Eight of these ten books were from either Holborn or Kentish Town libraries, showing how great their YA sections are. I love reading David Almond. I always feel right in the story from the first word. Both books of his I read this month were five star. I also very much enjoyed The Ghosts of Heaven. A really interesting premise and the three stories could be read in any order. But this month the top honours go to Chloe Banks. Her novel: The Art of Letting Go was refreshing. Older, mostly elderly characters, but so full of life, and full of secrets. The complex relationships and webs of deceit are carefully woven. Highly recommended. 

Books I read in December

1. Remix: Non Pratt
2. Dangerous Lies: Becca Fitzpatrick
3. Artichoke Heart: Sita Brahmachari
4. The Psychopath Test: Jon Ronson (Non-fiction)
5. What's a Girl Gotta Do? (Spinster Club #3) Holly Borne
6. L'Ultimo Caravaggio: Federica Campanini (An Italian book read over several weeks of my Italian course.)
7. The Heart Goes Last: Margaret Atwood
8. Rebecca: Daphne Du Maurier
9. Paradise Lost: John Milton
10. The Trouble with Women: Jacky Fleming (Non-fiction/humour)

No kindle books this month, but a nice mixture of non-fiction, YA, a book in a different language, and a couple of classics. Paradise Lost completed my reading challenge for the year, with a book I have previously abandoned. I have only abandoned two other books in my adult life and they were Cloud Atlas (David Mitchell) and Labyrinth (Kate Mosse), and I couldn't find them, so Mr Milton guided me through the final step of the reading challenge. Challenging it was, but complete it is. And because it's the last day of the year, I'm going to indulge my inability to  make decisions and have a couple of winners this month. Becca Fitzpatrick's tale of a teenager in witness protection was so well paced and the characters really jumped out. The way she creates sexual tension between characters as well, is phenomenal. I really enjoyed this book. The Psychopath Test is non-fiction that reads like fiction and is hilarious and terrifying and brilliant. And The Trouble with Women is a humorous, illustrated gem of a book, poking fun at the blatant sexism through history. You will roll on the floor with laughter. 

And so, it is finally over. I sometimes wish I didn't read quite as much, then this blog wouldn't take as many hours to write. But alas, I am a book worm and I am super proud of that fact. 

Drum roll please..........My final tally of books read this year is: 109. Woo hoo! I can't believe I beat last year's 105. So I guess, next year the target is 110.

Thank you for reading. If you managed to get through all of it, then you deserve a mighty big glass of bubbly tonight. Whatever you're doing, I hope you are with friends or family, or both. You don't need much for new year, just a person or people you love, some food and some festive cheer. That's almost it for 2016 guys. (Yes!) See you on the flip side. 

Rants out.

Recycling Rant

I'm livid. I don't understand how difficult it is to put your recycling in the black recycling bin. It even has pictures on the front to show you what you can put in it. And it's not that long ago that it was always full and we often had to keep bags of recycling on the balcony until it was emptied. But now, every time I take the recycling it's practically empty. And bear in mind there are 24 flats in our building and one large black bin for recycling. Yet about 6 large green bins for waste. Wait a minute. That doesn't add up. There are so many things you can recycle now, yet it is assumed that there will be five or six times more waste than recycling. I don't think so. To our one waste bin bag, we usually have at least two of recycling, if not more. So is it only us recycling?

Today I took down three bags of recycling and a bin bag of waste and I walk in to the bin store - always expecting the worst - but was pleased to see that people had actually managed to put stuff in the bins and not just dump them on the floor. But in one of the green bins was two massive cardboard boxes and a bag full of empty glass and plastic bottles. Yet, the black recycling bin I just emptied in to was empty. I was so angry. It's right there. Just put them in the black bin. So I did. I took the bag of bottles and I put them in recycling. Then I looked at the cardboard boxes and thought, no, I've got to go and get this shopping done before everywhere gets busy.

But I couldn't stop thinking about those boxes all the way there and all the way back. Why are people doing this? Are they uneducated? Are they ignorant? Are they just plain rude? Or lazy? Or do they just not get it? I mean, what's not to get? Dumping stuff in landfill when it has no need to be dumped, equals bad. Recycling where possible, equals good. It's that simple. Most products and packaging even say on now if they can be recycled. And even if you're not sure, if in doubt put it in the recycling bin, because people are employed to sort through it. I'm pretty sure people don't sort through the green bins, even if they know there are recyclables in there. They just dump.

So after purchasing everything I needed for a spicy lamb pie, I considered my options: ignore the massive boxes and get on with the day, they're not my problem or my mess; or go in there and flatten away. It's a small victory, but one I'm willing to get my hands dirty for.

And so this is why I'm all sweaty and gross after ten minutes of dumpster diving and recycling other peoples' crap. The boxes really were huge and I struggled to get them out as heavier bags were holding down the bottom edges. But persevere I did - just like I persevere when cleaning out every peanut butter jar and yoghurt pot. And I stamped those boxes down and in they went. And still the black bin is virtually empty. Maybe a quarter full. I peeked in a couple of other bins and saw several amazon boxes, but I couldn't reach them over the side and I decided diving in again was not on the cards today.

But really, in this day and age, I don't get it. Why are you not recycling? It really doesn't take very long to clean something out, or flatten a box. And how can the idea of these things being dumped in the ground not make you feel sick and wrong and gross? A few years ago I even found a place to recycle VHS, because I had so many and I couldn't bear to think of them just being dumped in a hole in the ground. So I googled and found one of the only recycling plants in the country that do it and I sent them there. They recycle everything, including the actual film reel and the cases. And I thought, brilliant. Imagine my Buffy VHS and all my Friends VHS becoming something else, for someone else. Amazing!

Okay, rant over. I'm probably preaching to the converted. And really I'm not preaching at all. I'm just angry that every time I walk into that bin store I want to start rearranging and pulling crap out of bins. Maybe I've found my new calling in life? My main point is: don't be a dick, recycle. Perhaps that should be the new advertising slogan.

Anyhoo, I'll be back later for my third annual Year in Books. And in the meantime, have a great final day of this shitty year we call 2016.

Rants out.

Rusty

I entitle this blog, Rusty, due to my infrequency of blogging, and also that I haven't written or edited in weeks. I feel I may be out of practise. But surely it's like riding a bike. You never forget. Right?
In order to blow off the cobwebs, I thought I'd tell you about my December so far, and some of the interesting, annoying, possibly great things that have happened. That should get the brain working and let the words take over. So here goes......

Well, December kicked off with me stressing about our annual dinner party: The Night of Five. The flat was a tip, we barely had a menu put together, and I had all the presents to wrap up and decorations to put up. Then an impromptu babysitting job, shat on my chances of catching up with any of the house stuff, leading to me having a slight freak out but being unable to turn the money down. Of course, in the end my stress was for nothing. And the extra money really helped. We hastily threw together a menu and I finally made successful meringues. Very successful meringues. Our guests received their customary five courses and I pulled a centrepiece out of my ass at the last minute.

The Centrepiece: A snowy tree. 

Though, twenty minute before the guests arrived, I ran down to take the rubbish and recycling, and it finally happened, the thing I dread every time I go down there: I dropped my keys in the bin. And they are those huge dumpster type bins. Oh crap. I had just showered and changed too. Clearly in future I should take the rubbish before showering. Not that I plan on going dumpster diving again any time soon. So, it was my first time jumping into a dumpster. And thankfully, there wasn't too much rubbish in there, all the rubbish was in bin bags, and I could actually see the keys, it was just that my arms weren't long enough. Stupid short arms for short people. If ever I needed go go gadget arms, it was in that moment. So I used my two recycling bags and placed them on the edge of the dumpster, to at least try and preserve the cleanliness of my jeans. I hopped on in there, fished out my keys and scrambled back out, all in the shortest time possible. Then I pissed myself laughing. I couldn't wait to get upstairs and tell A what an idiot I was. 

This month I set a new record for writing music reports, in that I completed 45 in 5 days. Though I did make my life easier, for once, and I typed them on the computer instead of hand writing them. To me that is a huge cop out but it was certainly quicker and allowed me to keep the right side of the sanity line. Which leads me to the last music classes of the term and some unlikely recurring incidents. Okay, so ladies, it's not often you get head butted in the lady parts, unless you work with kids who are all about the height of your lady parts. Man, it hurts. Then one of the other kids decided he was going to punch me in the lady parts. Honestly, twice in one lesson. I did shout at the second one though. The first one, the head butt, was an accident but the second was deliberate and not at all amusing. I told him to never ever do that to anyone. Ever! I think he got the message. 

I enjoyed an evening of calling out gender stereotyping in the Marks and Spencer's Festive Food brochure with the eight year old I teach and look after. He loves a catalogue. Who doesn't? And he's also food obsessed, and shaping up to be quite a good cook. But anyhoo, I digress. We were going through the catalogue and pointing out the hampers we would like, or the food we found irresistible, when we came across the dreaded: For Her and For Him sections. The first item was an afternoon tea hamper, with cakes and scones and biscuits and pink fizz. My charge rightly pointed out that it wasn't only for girls. He would love scones and biscuits and afternoon tea. He knew, obviously, the only thing he couldn't have was the pink fizz, but everything else he would have loved. Cue: a talk about gender stereotyping. 

I am so glad it was him that brought it up, because I feel this way every time I walk into a clothes shop, or a toy shop, and especially card shops. It's all pink for girls, blue for boys. Pirates on one side, princesses on the other. The girls bit here and the boys bit there and never the twain shall meet. And it's all bollocks and limiting and stupid and ridiculous! But what's great is that he's starting to see that. 

So we went through some more of the catalogue and talked about how it couldn't possibly be just for girls or boys, because it's food. Food is food. It has no gender. There is no reason why a particular drink or food should be aimed at men or women. We all need to eat and drink in order to live and survive. Though granted not all of us can afford to shop at M&S. Hilariously, in the: For Men section, everything was whiskey and cider and port, because women couldn't possibly like or want to drink any of those drinks. And he pipes up, but mummy likes cider. Exactly! When I saw him for his lesson this week, he remembered our chat and asked what is was called again. Gender Stereotyping. There's hope yet. 

Have you ever seen some one's doppelganger? I hadn't until last Wednesday, when having a nice belated birthday meet up with my friend. I came across the double of our mutual friend who lives in the North East, walking out of the restaurant we were in. He clearly had no way of being in London at that very moment, but it was him, just carrying a little more weight. I had to stop myself shouting out to him. Then of course, we had to call our friend straight away to see if it in fact was him, but he didn't pick up. Eventually we got through to him but he was in the North East, at home, not in central London. I don't know, I think somehow you don't want to think about there being someone out there that looks identical to you. It kind of shits all over the, I'm so unique thing, though granted they probably wouldn't be anything like you in any other respect. Still. It's kind of creepy. 

Oh and one more thing about that night, the stupid waiter guy was determined to get us to buy a bottle of wine, when we both insisted we wanted one large glass each and that was enough. Clearly he had to try and up sell, but when you have been told two or three times, just listen and bugger off. We go out to talk to each other, not spend valuable minutes explaining our reasons for not wanting to drink an entire bottle. Our choice. Bugger off. And because we were using the tastecard, he was also trying to persuade us to have starters which we declined due to our love of pudding. Then he asked us to promise we'd have pudding, which I realise we did promise to, but mainly just to shut him up and make him go away. But really, we have absolutely no obligation to do anything. If I want three main courses and nothing else, then so be it. If I want a starter and a dessert, I'll have it. I don't think I realised quite how annoying the guy was until having a couple of days to ruminate. 

And so, I'm almost up to date with the happenings of December so far. Sunday saw my 5th officially timed run of the year and my 4th 10 km of the year. I started off the year with a PB of 58.50 and had already shaved that to 58.17 in May, and 57.52 in October. So the heat was on. Could I shake a few more seconds off that time and finish the year on a running high? Well, as it turns out, yes, I could. I must be a winter runner, because my PB now stands at 57.02. Absolute shock and joy, as always. I'd never done one of these runs before for the Dame Kelly Holmes Trust. It was nice to have such small numbers, I think there were 533 people on my course. I'm used to doing the big runs with thousands of runners but maybe these smaller runs are where it's at. I'm also tempted to do the Greenwich run this Sunday, but we'll see. Greenwich Park is awfully hilly. 

  Run complete. PB achieved. Happy Rants. 

I had my final Italian lesson of the year on Monday. I'm bottom of the class in terms of being able to speak out, coherently and speedily. But I feel like I'm not given enough time to work out what I want to say. And like they always say with kids when they are learning to speak, give them as much time as they need. Don't jump in and take the words away from them. I feel this should also be applied to adults learning a second or third or fourth language. You need time to process. Because you need to think about what you want to say, then translate it, and then get your mouth around the words. Unfortunately, the same sort of patience is not given to adults and often I am cut off mid-sentence leaving our resident annoyingly good at everything person - though I do really like her, it's just annoying that I'm not as good as her - to take over. I realise I should have written this on the feedback form, but she gave them to us at 9.05pm when the lesson had finished and my brain was frazzled, and I just wanted to go home and eat. Anyhoo, I'm not giving up. I've already signed up and paid for Module 2 Lower 2. My reading and writing is good. My listening is improving all the time, and I am using websites and TV shows and short stories and Grammar drills to delve deeper into the language. If I can just get over my talking fear, then next term will be a little easier. 

Well, if nothing else, this blog proves I can still write. And I still have brevity issues. So nothing much has changed. But December has seen a few firsts for me. To summarise:

• My first dumpster dive. Hopefully my last. 
• My first successful batch of meringues. I will be making them again. 
• My first PB over 10 Km whilst wearing a Santa Hat.
• My first year of studying the Italian language complete. Here's to the next one. 

Happy middle of the week, rants readers. 

How goes your December so far?

Rants