Ghosties, ghoulies and long-legged thingys.

Am being time managerially efficient by electing to write my blog now, as opposed to last thing at night, as is my usual routine. Probably reluctant to record the day's events too early in case something really exciting happens, and I don't have a chance to write it down!

Kids are roaming the streets for their annual gack-fest – trick-or-treating the UK way. Am surprised how the tradition has been embraced with ever increasing fervour in recent years. Most of the houses in our road have gone to the trouble of displaying pumpkins, and are decked out in suitably spooky trimmings – the kids laden down with tonnes of sweets and goodies.

I remember the year we spent in America when I was ten, and how mind-blowing the whole thing was for me then. The elaborate costumes, and outrageous effort put into decorating all the houses in the neighbourhood. A community spirit that seemed to permeate through the crisp, fall air. Trudging through the snow was a novelty in itself, and then back to the toasty warm centrally heated house which was our temporary home. As far removed from Adelaide, South Australia, as you could possibly imagine.

Anyway, it's my lot out there now, and it least its not raining like last year. Feel a bit bad that I haven't gone to a lot of trouble, but they're with their mates, and we're hooking up at a friend's house at 8pm for some food and a bit of a Sowain shindig. Usually we write some 'start of the new year hopes and wishes' on paper and set them alight on the fire. That's about as hippy and spiritual as I ever get.

Won't be able to hang around long though, have to pick up Eddie from Hayle again at 10pm. The perennial taxi driver. Shame there's already a film of that name. Now that my batteries are charged up again I can plug myself in to the next installment of Jazz. Apologies to Eddie for being anti-social. Needs must.

Screen fever.

Have been sat in front of this bloody screen for what feels like all of today. Welcome to a writer's world. Welcome to Lardy-arse Land. A land of 'cups of tea at regular intervals' so as to create an excuse to get up. Get up to put the kettle on. Get up to make the tea. Get up to find the biscuits. Get up to go for a pee. A thrill a minute – but anything for a bit of exercise. Is totally against my nature to be confined for long periods of time to a chair. Better get used to it I suppose.

Did escape to the doctors briefly. My bedside table now resembles an acute ward – covered as it is in various sized dressings, iodine patches, and a week's supply of drugs. Antibiotics. My foot's a right mess, even after nine days, so thought I'd better do something about it.

At least I finished the piece of writing for Bill, and the article on Jane for bloc (hope she likes it). And my personal profile as follows:

Name: Fi Read

Place of birth: Stratford, New Zealand

Email address: fipenz@yahoo.co.uk

Favourite things:

• form of writing – poetry, cos its short.

• sound – silence, in short supply at my house.

• smell – other people's posh laundry detergent.

• word – short.

• Book – Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's. I'm a slow reader, its short.

Biggest things:

• writing achievement – um... pass.

• Non-writing achievement – raising £3,700 for Scope, trekking for 3 weeks in the Himalayas, and breathing in Mt. Everest (which is not even remotely short). Organising all the arrangements for my four kids during my short, but significant, absence.

Greatest things:

• hopes – all the biggies: World peace. An end to poverty and hunger. Equality. Eco-friendly policies to reduce global warming... In the short-term, that I won't always be a barmaid.

• Inspiration – my friends, both short and tall.

Naughtiest vice: Tequila. Shorts.

Hope that's the kind of thing they wanted? Short, and to the point.

Anyway, it'll do for now. I can probably make changes at a later date if I need to. Would be nice to put for the writing achievement – a short story published in Myslexia. Reminds me, I must tidy the gardening story up and send it off before the deadline. But unfortunately, the printer has decided to kark it. Probably cos it got water knocked all over it. Bit of a bummer really as I need a working one, as do the kids. At least I hadn't gone out and bought loads of black ink for it yet.

Went to choir tonight which was a good thing. Needed to free my head. Lucy got very creative with the pumpkin, carving out a wicked jack-o-lantern face – she's so bloody arty. Meant that I had to make pumpkin soup when I got back. Tomorrow night's Halloween fare. Mm, mmm.

Yes, they still hurt.

My feet that is. Have been sitting with them in a bowl of hot salty water whilst writing up my cannibalism essay. Tedious day of domestics and driving kids around. Ho hum. Batteries let me down again whilst trying to listen to Jazz, but I guess it's precious time I should be spending talking with my off-spring, seeing as we pass the time together so infrequently these days. Mind you, talking with my 16 year old daughter always fraught. We invariably argue and fall out – and we did.

Attempted to be studious sat in my sodden fiesta again, but really not a conducive environment to be cerebral. Uncomfortable for starters. Rank smelling. And too car-like to make me feel like a proper writer. What I need is a desk. A place that I can own as my creative space. A room would be nice, but I'd settle for just a special writing area. Dream on.

Anyway, time to vacate the computer desk and let Eddie get to sleep. Take my pens and paper downstairs and try and come up with some witty, urbane responses to our bloc profile personal questions. Already stumped by the 'what's your favourite book' one – wouldn't have a clue.
Oh well.

Rough

Feeling very... splitting headache and tired. Just come back from playing a gig – a 40^th birthday – but as gigs go, was pretty dire. Rough. No energy, and not just me. Oh well, been one of those days. Dull and lacklustre.

At least I had a mini lie-in til 9am. (Yay). Had planned to get assignments well underway, but struggled to even half complete the cannibalism essay. Gas man came for annual appliance inspection – fire needs replacing. No surprises there as it's always been absolutely pants. Rubbish heat and takes forever to start. Interesting to chat to him though. We were talking family and he said that his ex-wife was a lawyer. Qualified thanks to the £14,000 he ploughed into her training and bar exams etc.. She ended up having an affair with a colleague 3 weeks into her first job and subsequently divorced him. Rough justice. He studied for a masters and phD in physics and chemistry, and here he is, servicing gas appliances. That's rough too.

About to get stuck into work when the girls came round to administer more bleach to my hair. Last Saturday's attempt missed too much. Felt very aware that they were so incredibly up, buoyant, and I was definitely not. Bordering on morose today me. Had a phone call from Eddie part way through saying that he'd bombed out in his competition. Gutting. He'll be so disappointed with himself. Can't win every time obviously, but now he'll probably miss out on British team selection. Won't be going to Spain after all. Also, rough.

Agreed to tag along with the girls to see a play at the Acorn, 'Madame Lucinda's Wonder Show'. Wanted to see it anyway as written by a friend of mine, Anna Murphy who also writes for Kneehigh, but to be honest, wasn't really doing it for me. Nice dialogue in places but the acting was patchy. Maybe it got better though, cos I had to leave at the interval to do this poxy gig.

Dishes in the sink and it's 1.45am already. Looks like I won't be doing any reading tonight then.

Ouch

My feet hurt. A lot. Have gone a whole week – 7 days now without shoes. Healing very slowly. Have soaked them in salty water and now they're screaming. Pin-pricks and currents of sharp pain, stabbing hot as the infection spreads. Spent the day admiring parrots at Paradise Park – a jolly to make up for yesterday's parental neglect. Not only was it cold and wet on my bare tootsies, but the pathways were all gravel. Feel like a long-suffering pensioner with a weeping ulcerated sore. Might have to try bandaging tomorrow.

Running the gauntlet of people's judgemental stares still hard to cope with. A reminder of how intolerant of difference, we as a society are. Decided to go to the Cornwall Theatre Showcase this evening as had to drive Eddie up to Porthtowan ready for the weekend's big body boarding competition. Easy enough to nip over to Truro. Good opportunity to listen to some more of Jazz.
But still embarrassing to be at a public event unshod. Didn't think much of the talent I have to say. The play far too derivative of Kneehigh to work for me – and a really bad script.

Interviewed Angela Stoner as well today – useful insight into alternative routes into publishing I thought. So now I have to write up two articles for the 'About Writing' section. Terrific. Plus the homework – Cannibal essay, and internal focaliser piece of prose. And write my personal bloc team profile. Not forgetting the piece of writing Suzy's asked us to do that will be used as an editing exercise, as well as to use research techniques. Hate the topic though. Hate childhood memory stuff. Always painful. Choice of a bedroom even worse. Will just have to get on with it I guess. Remember the nice things. Think of the wisteria.

Guilt tripping.

Been another long day. Not helped by the fact that I'd had to abandon kids in order to be at college. Arrangements had fallen through, or rather, their dad had let them/me down yet again. Too busy to have them, even though he'd asked for them to come round to his at midday in the first place. By the time I'd finally managed to get hold of him last night to confirm, and had him tell me he now couldn't/wouldn't do it, it was too late. Too late to ask my friends, too late to find an alternative.

Suggested Billy accompany me in for the day as Lucy had slept over at a friend's the night before, but not surprisingly, not keen. He would've been bored stiff, and it was such a long day. Leaving at 8am, back at just before 7pm. Even I can appreciate being lonely in the company of tele and a computer, a far more attractive proposition. Didn't make me feel any better though. Or less guilty.

Don't know whether that was the reason why I didn't really get into today's sessions, or whether I was just tired – having an off day. Or if it just wasn't a very stimulating. Certainly was drifting during the guest speaker's talk on the history of reading and writing. Ordinarily would've been quite interested, but struggling today. Kept wondering if the kids were ok which wasn't helping. Hoping they'd managed to forage for food and steered clear of electrocuting themselves by toaster.

No sooner had I walked through the front door than it was the what's-for-dinner-mum mantra. Unfortunately, dinner turned out to be a ghastly selection of reheated leftovers. Had to be quick. Had to get Eddie to Surf Lifeguard training 20 mins ago. Walkman batteries boosted enough by their brief re-charge for me to continue listening to Jazz on the drive over. Sat in the car and read some more Wuthering Heights by street lamp when we got there.

Back home, and the washing needs sorting – damp clothes ready for the rack. Already our house is becoming gruesomely cold and damp. That smell colours the air a kind of greyish-green, nose-wrinkling the minute you step through the front door. A musty, moldy odor no Oust can oust. Am hideously late for band practice. Have a gig on Saturday, somebody's 40^th, so have to go. Little kids coming with me so they can keep Rory (Graham's lad) company, and I can keep company with Graham. Have a blissful night with someone alongside of me. Feeling the warmth of their breath. Comforted by skin, and the solidity of another body. If I'm lucky, there'll be a smiley cup of tea brought up for me in the morning.

Begging

Can't believe I have just spent 4hrs getting letters written to the various funding bodies as identified by the Fund-Finder thingy. Not overly hopeful I have to say, but even £100 would be brilliant. So time consuming though, and not particularly professionally done on my part as I only had pre-used envelopes. Indicative of my environmental, eco-conscience? Proves how skint I am? Oh well, will send them off and see what happens.

Paid the fees and applied for a loan, so I really am doing this bloody thing then!

Enjoyed this morning – focussing on Feature Writing. Would be keen to have a bash but, realistically, I have to devote all my time and energy to getting the standard course work done. Next year. When I'm broke, and the motivation is there to pay off my debts, I'll get serious about flogging articles. Hopefully.

Am late for a dinner invite. Actually looking forward to the drive now, so that I can listen to some more Jazz. It's brilliant. Such powerful, evocative writing. Has a totally, unique, believable voice. No wonder she won a Nobel Prize for Literature.

New Toy.

Bought myself a cd walkman. Went to Argos, but the one I chose out of the catalogue was only available in Cambourne. Not that keen, and too tight to upgrade to more expensive model, so tried Dixons (sorry, Currys). Walkman's? Old school – all MP3 players and Ipods now. Similar story in Woolworths who had two models of cd walkmans, both out of stock. Back to Argus. Splashed out £12.99 on my new toy. Was great listening to Toni Morrison's Jazz driving over to Hayle tonight. Felt a bit rude ignoring Eddie on the trip back, especially as he wanted to tell me all about his encounter with a massive, grumpy seal in the sea earlier. Would be such a boon to listen to audio books during travel time to college, but not sure what Sarah would say?

A productive day in college I thought. Encouraging to receive a good mark for last week's essay, and positive feedback after reading this week's effort. Tackling 'Cannibalism is a good thing' next. Introduction to design in IT which isn't something I'm comfortable with. Doesn't interest me at all – I don't have an aesthetic eye. Do appreciate how important it is though, particularly with visual print media. Designing a web-site for this course, scary territory. Anything to do with computers, the net, out of my league. I'm such a pen and paper girl.

The 'spare' hours I had hoped to devote to carrying on with writing/assignments evaporated as soon as I walked through the front door. As always. Did manage to finish writing up notes properly from Brian Purman talk last Thursday, and the interview with Jane yesterday. Should be attempting the real mcoy article, but prevaricating on that one. Tomorrow.

Found out that first installment of tuition fees well and truly overdue now. Have to hand over a cheque for £1560 as soon as. Will go into finance office tomorrow – get it over with. Then go to bank in afternoon to transfer funds. Also, put in application for Career Development loan to pay for 2^nd installment due January 8^th. Read through guff about Student Fund assistance. Will try and see if I can get some help with books and travel as money really is going to be tight. Especially in December when my car dies a death and I have to replace it, Eddie starts having regular driving lessons and takes his test – not to mention Christmas. Need to plow my way through all those grant/funding sources I printed out the other week. So much to do. So many things to think about!

Lucy has a friend sleeping over tonight, Billy's elsewhere so he's 'covered' tomorrow when I'm at college. Musical beds means Rosie's in here whinging at me for tip-tap typing noisily and having to put up with big brother's snores. So that's it for today folks.

Why this time of night?

Why is it that I can never write my blog before midnight? Tend to be in zombie mode at this point - not reakky thinking clearly. Stream of consciousness? Barely. Notice how I hit the wrong key and spelt 'really', really badly. At least I've knocked out another assignment by the deadline -yay! 'Establishing a voice as a narrator'. Felt like a right thicko in the lecture though. Couldn't get to grips with the theory of narratology at all. Covert heterodiegetic? No thanks - make mine a homo. Made slightly more sense whilst I was slavishly copying my notes into my new project book/folder. Sinking in slowly. I hope.
Interviewed Jane Pugh this morning for 'About Writing' feature. Wanted to record it for possible podcasting but couldn't get minidisc to work. Kept cutting out halfway through the first question. Gave up and scrawled notes old stylee. Will endeavour to re-write them into a legible form after I've done this - save the proper write-up for another day. She was very patient with me, and as I suspected, had a lot of interesting, useful things to say. Hope I do her justice.
Popped into the library on the way home and borrowed a couple of audio books - the shortest I could find - as per Christina's suggestion. Need to buy a portable cd player now to use on car journeys. Also picked up a couple of Quick Reads as thought they may be vaguely managable, although I need to finish Wuthering Heights and Hero first.
Kids off school as it's half term and were suffering from cabin fever, so took them for a surf in afternoon - the kind of activity you can get away with in the pissing rain. Sat in the car, dodging the drips, writing the 'voice' h/work. Must have been influenced by weds' research activity when we were looking at call-girl memoirs, as that's what it was about. Still unsure if I succeeded in giving the narrator a unique voice though, as it's more or less me speaking. But I'm the writer - so how does that work?
It's my third day of no shoes. Get some funny looks walking round town, and pushing the trolley round Lidls. Looks of disdain. Or ones that say 'tramp'. Can't help it though - feet too messed up and tender to try socks, let alone footwear. Not sure if I can handle having to constantly explain myself if I go barefoot tomorrow at college. Then again, not sure if I'm ready for shoes! At least it's not freezing, freezing. Can just about get away with it.
Had to take Lucy to the doctors today to have her ganglia looked at. Needs an operation apparently. Will be referred for treatment, hopefully at West Cornwall. All I could think of was, 'please don't be on a day when I'm at Falmouth'. What kind of a concerned mother am I? And, was so busy writing and typing over the weekend, didn't notice that Rosie hadn't come home from a party in Shepton Mallet. Went on Friday - still not back 9pm Sunday! How slack is that?
Fortunately she was safe and sound. Had sent me a text to say she was staying on, but I never received it. Well they're all tucked up in bed now. Wish I was. Better get on with re-writing those notes. Yawn.

Weekend glitches.

Tried to post yesterday but servers down, so a blog-free day I'm afraid. Was relatively uneventful anyway - a day of shopping, house-keeping and family activity. Although I did come a cropper on my bike. Wearing flip-flops not recommended. Somehow ended up braking my fall with the unprotected uppers of my feet. Now missing a quantity of skin in places. Eddie, took great, sadistic delight in applying his tincture of lizard's blood (purchased during his recent trip to Indonesia when he experienced similar gravel rash following a motor bike incident - also wearing flip-flops I hasten to add). Hurt like hell, my screams no doubt terrorising the neighbours.
Cycle ride to Marazion seemed like a good idea at the time, albeit in bare feet, as couldn't handle even the afore-mentioned flip-flops on my injured parts. But torrential downpours not a lot of fun. Nor were the gale force head winds on the way home. Pedalling virtually at a stand-still, my thigh muscles remain distressed. Had to apologise to my drenched, exhuasted children in a big way when we got home.
The inclement weather didn't seem to deter the avid train-spotters though. Loads of them, cameras at the ready, photographing the steam trains pulled in at Penzance station. The King Edward I extremely Potteresque, with it's vintage green bodywork and shiny black funnel.
My long-suffering boyfriend, and 1/2 term holiday visiting son, were joining us for dinner so my attention was immediately required in the kitchen. Cracking meal if I do say so myself. Afterwards we had a cracking game of Boggle - does that qualify as part of my academic pursuits I wonder? The rules were adjusted to make it fairer in that adults had to write words of a minimum of 4 letters. Utterly thwarted - me the queen of 3-letter words - unable to sweep the board clean. Gnash, gnash. Nice not to have an under-occupied bed later also.

No chance of a lie-in. Booked to take Eddie and a mate to a bodyboarding competition up near Padstow. Up at 6.45am. Groan. Ended up taking the mate's ultra-dedicated girlfriend which meant that my plan to turn my car into a writing studio was seriously compromised. When we arrived, the organiser's dithered about trying to decide which beach to run the event. A foul day, absolutely tipping it down. Tried reading Wuthering Heights but was distracted by the girlfriend's triumverate of glossies. Headlines from Heat were screaming for my attention, making it difficult to concentrate. Eventually I was able to get on with some work, writing a rough draft for another persuasive argument essay.
After the first division, the competition was cancelled due to crap conditions. Only the drop-knee event ran, so for the bodyboarders, a complete waste of time. Urrgh. Eddie did receive the prize for 'best wipe-out', so at least came away with a new rash vest and a book on finding the hottest waves on the east and west coasts of America(?)
Have now typed up the essay. Still a piece of writing to finish for one of the other classes - trying to establish a 'voice'. Will make a start shortly. Tried to access bloc to read the submissions in the 'About Writing' section but pages won't up-load. A problem their end I think. A bugger really as I wanted to research some question ideas for my interview with Jane Pugh tomorrow. Will have to wing it. Gotta feed the hungry hordes now.

Get cape, wear cape, fly.

Inspirational band name. Music pleasantly surprising although verging on kareoke in places. Enjoyed being behind the bar tonight. Probably because I'm desperate for some kind of social life. Biggest sacrifice of all doing this course is to pass on dinners, parties, nights out etc...
And on nights in. Will be slinking off to my lonely old bed shortly, very aware that I'll be sleeping on me tod. Again.
So not fair. Just when me and he were reaching an equilibrium - a rare stage in our unconventional relationship where things were going good. And I have to go and mess it up by being too busy! Damn. What was I thinking? Gagging for some intimacy, and reading about Heathcliff and Cathy is no substitute.
Have been a right swot today in that I spent 5hrs re-writing the past 2wks worth of lecture notes into proper, organised folders. Nerdy pointless exercise really. Should've been getting on with assignments or researching bloc. Did read a bit of Wuthering Heights this morning whilst kids were in for their dental check-ups. But still don't know how Im going to be able to keep up with it all. W.end tomorrow. Most of mine willl be spent driving people to bodyboard comps and surf life saving. Not to mention writing. My car has become the mobile desk. By the end of the 12months I'll never want to see the inside of a Ford Fiesta ever, ever again.

Numb bum

Seem to have spent most of the day seated. Driving at various times, or sat at a desk being studious. Managed to get to the pool yesterday to do some laps - first time in ages. Squeezed in a quick 80 before band practise and feeling it now. Achey arms. Long day at college but felt worthwhile. Guest speaker talking about future directions in publishing had some disheartening things to say though. Rapid shift away from the conventional printed page soon. E-text as king. Death of the novel as reading tastes downsize. Good news for poetry though? Not convinced it'll be a boom time for writers, who will supposedly earn income from the number of hits a given piece of writing receives. Not convinced at all. Nothing like a good book.
Wish I had more time to devote to reading. Well, any time actually. Feel like I'm missing out on so much. Is on my list of must do's when life calms down a bit. Am going to be at a severe disadvantage with this course because of my un-literariness. Don't know how I can possibly find space. Don't watch tv, or listen to music. Socially, I've already become a hermit in order to get assignments done. Can't jack the Acorn in - is too much a part of my sense of belonging here. And reluctant to give up all modelling, as when I finish this course (if I finish this course) I'll be destitute. Will be relying on it for my bread and butter.
Drove Eddie to Hayle as soon as I got in. CPR training tonight as part of his life guard course. Had left kids with instructions to sort themselves out with pizza for tea but no time for me to eat. Not worth driving back to Penzance, so huddled on the back seat of the car holding Wuthering Heights up at an awkward angle, to try and catch the street lamp glow. Straining to see in the gloom tiring, but internal car light doesn't work. Story of my life.

Shattered

Plans to come home from band practise and carry on with study stuff totally unrealistic. Can't stay awake a minute more. Exhausted. Feel a hundred years old. Bed. Please.

But here's yesterday's super blog. A bit of dull reading anyone?

BIGGEST BLOG EVER!

Well, here goes:

Up at seven o'clock. Hideously early as went to bed at 3am. Then couldn't sleep. Usual routine:

sink wash (showers take too long), locate a clean top and yesterday's jeans, put kettle on. Start packed lunch production line. Rummage through fridge and cupboards. Choose things that strike an equilibrium between healthy and boring. Make tea. Wake kids. Flap about looking for bags, lunch boxes, drink bottles, P.E. kits, flute and music books, permission slips that need signing etc.. Should organise stuff the night before but never do.

Eat breakfast - snatch mouthfuls between flapping. New cereal on offer, Activa. Tastes like cardboard. Look for my bag, books, paperwork, keys, purse and phone. Only two umbrellas. Give them to kids who have further to walk to school. Pissing it down. Peg it down the hill at 7.55am to get lift to Falmouth. Get wet.

Chat in car with co-student about Professional Writing course. Long journey from Penzance to Tremough campus. Still raining. Traffic slow. Fortunately, countryside an antidote to the road. Arrive at gestapo car park – no, we do not have our pass yet – at 8.50am.

First lecture, 9.00am, uninspiring. Badly presented historical background to English as a language. Random scrawl on the whiteboard. Mumbley, incoherent explanation. Touch on punctuation at the end - far more useful. But run out of time. Split into tutorial groups to critique essays:

'Higher Education should only be for the rich'. Frustrating as run out of time. Again. No opportunity to read or receive feedback. Last week's homework returned. Not a single comment or indication it had been marked at all. Break for lunch.

Join the others in refectory 11.45am. Sandwich filling soggy already. Excuse self to visit careers library. Access fund-finder programme on their computer. Pants computer skills make typing in personal details and info laborious. Press search. Receive 32 potential matches for bodies and organisations to approach for money. Press print. Rewarded with a pile of paper.

Second lecture, in the Media Suite at 1.00pm. I.T. How to use Adobe photoshop to format and crop digital images. Need to post picture to go with personal biog. for bloc. On-line webzine. Also for personal blogger site, Under duress. Tricky. Am a serious techno-phobe, but good to be hands on. Photo vaguely flattering. Me with funky plaits and cool glasses frames. Surfboard tucked under arm. Taken with number one son who's gurning. Crop him out. Final image not bad.

Call into library. Reserve required text Hero of a thousand faces. Drive back to Penzance.

Jump out top end of town 3.28pm. Go to Acorn theatre. Ask for Mark Thomas contact details. Want to interview him for bloc when he's down to do show next month. Will be behind the bar that night anyway. Chat to Acorn director about trials and tribulations of study. Cancel a shift can't make now because of guest speaker.

Go to Barcleays bank to enquire about Career Development Loan. £3120 fees owed now. Gulp.

There in person but end up talking to someone down the phone. More forms to wade through. Decisions to make. Better to pay as much as possible up front? Or borrow the lot?

Trawl various shops for stationary. Purchase highlighter pens, flexi ring-binders and pre-divided Pukka notepad. Spot today's Daily Telegraph in WHSmith. Features article on blogging, so buy it. Comes with free Horrible History book on the Saxons. Bonus. Buy three umbrellas on way home.

Ignore bad luck superstition and test out brollies. One faulty with broken metal strut. Cycle back to shop for refund. Forget to take purse. Won't give me cash as paid for by card. Fetch purse. Need the exercise though. Sat on arse all day.

5.25pm peel potatoes and chop veg. Whilst on the boil, squeeze in quick game of chess with youngest son, Billy. I win. Check bus timetable for buses to Hayle. Make phone call to arrange lift for eldest son, Eddie. From Hayle, to Carn Brea swimming pool. Currently doing a surf life guard qualification. Wants to work the beaches next season. Fold dry clothes hanging on racks. Put away. Clean bins – kitchen and wheelie. Finish cooking. Scoff dinner at speed as modelling tonight. Make sure little kids ready for scouts as will be picked up shortly.

Running late. Dash to Arts Club. Take car to collect kids after. Quick strip. Strike a pose, 7.04pm. Try and stay awake. No heating. Not very warm. Chat in the break about shortage of models. Regret can't take on too much at mo. Recommend son as potential candidate as has recently turned eighteen. Resume the position. Enforced stillness leads to racing thoughts.

Session ends at 9.00pm. Drive to Newlyn to pick up kids and deliver them home. Drive to Hayle to pick up surfer son. Stop for petrol at Tescos. Air machine faulty. Stop at Jet garage to inflate tyres.

Sit in car sending text messages whilst waiting. Wonder why Eddie not got his license yet. Remember that I can't afford lessons. Or insurance. Drive home.

Help youngest daughter, Lucy, with science homework. Explain what enzymes are. Sign her diary. Hang wet laundry on recently emptied racks. Row with other daughter, Rosie. Dishes abandoned as she stomps off upstairs. Furious. End up doing dishes. Downstairs a total tip so tidy up a bit.

10.45pm, brave the computer. Write email to Mark Thomas's agent. Write it again, as somehow deleted at point of sending. Write email to Angela Stoner. Ask if she'd be willing to submit article for bloc. Write email to course co-ordinator re this morning's lecture. Perceived as spam. Bounces back. Write email to postmaster to gain clearance. Send email again. Check own emails. Log on to student site. Check notice board. Log onto blogger. Write short posting for regular blog. 12.30am, start writing this time capsule blog for National Blogging Day.

Collapse into bed 1.55am. Completely knackered. Fridge motor grumbling noticeably loud. Can't sleep. Brain in hyper drive. Can't stop thoughts spinning. Should try reading a book but keep thinking will fall asleep. Any minute now. Sleep.

National Blogger Day

Apparently today- October 17th - is meant to be one where as many people as possible post a blog diary. Millions of people all over the world, all detailing their lives for this one day only. The intention then is that it will become like a written time capsule. In years to come, people will be able to read thousands of personal accounts about what it was like to be living here and now. Brilliant concept I think. Unfortunately, it's 1.30am and I'm totally knackered. Have had a really full-on day which will take me forever to type as I'm so slow. Have to go to bed, but will belatedly post tomorrow. Promise.

Zzzzzz

This is crazy. It's 2.35am and I need to be in bed. Just sent alternative Three Little Pigs story into
the ether and finished an essay on how higher education should only be for rich people. Dangerous premise - I'm almost convinced. Madness for me to be squandering £3180 on a piece of paper I probably won't ever use when I've got exponentially expensive dependents to upkeep.
Still need to fill in the form to apply for a Career Development Loan to pay for the bloody course anyway. Not quite sure how I'm going to pay it back yet...
Not by writing. If I was to be paid by the word, at the rate that I'm producing work, I'd be lucky to earn a fiver. Can't seem to get into the flow. Will have to sleep on it. Absolutely pooped.

Carried away

It's nearly 1am and have just finished an alternative fairytale assignment. Only meant to be 800 words but couldn't leave it up in the air - too inspired. Runs to 2000 words now. Is that keen or just plain stupid?
A day of ferrying kids to the beach yet again. Ed's starting his lifeguard qualification (more likely to get work doing that than I ever will writing)! so spent the afternoon on the cliffs sorting out paperwork and begging letters to the dole etc. Have to apply for this career development loan thingy soon - scary as have never been in debt in my life. Also forms for EU funding now that it's been established that UK residency counts.
Rosie back from Somerset party a right grumpy cow. I had to turn down going due to studies and am well pissed off as of course it turned out to be a blinder.
Not had any time to do any reading - again. Need to get the 'Higher Education should only be for the rich' essay in the bag asap. Falmouth tomorrow already.
Arrrrgh!!! When will I get my life back?

Surf's up.

Dragged, kicking and screaming from bed to take number one son to secret spot which was 'going off' at crack of dawn (well 9am, but that's early for an anticpated saturday lie-in). Wondered why we'd not gotten round to sorting out a driver's licence yet. Remembered it was to do with the extortionate insurance and rip-off lessons. Handy in these situations though. Must make a note to look into it when I've repaid my enormous career development loan and am earning a comfortable living as a bone fide writer. Ha!
Despite moaning and grumbling re rude awakening was a glorious morn. Sat on the rocks with banana and yoghurt, reading Coover's version of The Gingerbread House. Started writing my version of The Three Little Pigs when we got home.
Another trip to the beach with son and a daughter for a surf at five. Took a pounding as I remain a perpetual beginner. Don't recommend taking up the sport in your late 30's. Not easy.
Hoping to see my neglected man later for a pint, game of pool and a much needed bed session.
This study lark is a right relationship killer. No time for anything or anyone (sigh).

Is it only day 3 already?

Another day of no writing. Moving model this morning, moving muscles that are now complaining bitterly. Such a gorgeous day and trapped inside studio. Tantalising beach view through the window rubbing it in.
Blew out singing rehearsal to grapple with computer that's gone haywire all afternoon. Has decided to delete programmes at whim. Commandeered PC expert mate, but glitch remains.
Spent the evening behind the bar serving freaks - The Grand Faerie Ball (big fairy bollocks).
Served a faun with furry nipple tassles, corsetted she-devil sprites, balding lecherous gnomes and random acid-casualty tipi types. Found a detatched pixie ear and a strobe effect flashing wand.
Exhausted now. Not at all in the mood for Heathcliffe.

Day 2.

Long day of brain-ache yesterday. Feel completely out of my depth. Overwhelmed by everything and struggling with the enormity of it all. Guilt tripping myself for abandoning kids big time .
Came home to Lucy cooking noodles for tea before heading to gym. No sign of Billy late back from football. Rosie hassling to go surfing. And Eddie in bed dying of tonsilitis 3rd day running. How's that for parenting?
Acquiesed to surf demand purely cos I needed a salt water hit and Sennen cove calming.
Worked a treat. A balmy evening, light off-shore breeze, clean waves, and a golden orb of a sun. Perfect. Only time enough once home to raid the freezer, bung frozen shite in the oven, shout 'don't forget to turn it off' on my way out, and peg it to the car.
Two hours at the school of painting - killer positions and no heating. Bloody marvellous.
Over to Zennor for band practise. Working on new tune called Flambard's Burning. Right laugh but too exhausted to stay til end.
Back home, greeted by customary sink full of dishes. Polished off Lucy's half-eaten bowl of cold congealed noodles. Crawled into bed 1.45am pissed off that too tired to read, let alone write.
Doesn't bode well for study success. Tossed and turned with the worry of it all, unable to sleep.
Doesn't bode well for well-being.

Today, more of the same. Just back from stint behind the bar. Knackered. About to attempt some Wuthering Heights. Can't even begin to imagine what the luxury of being single, no kids, no work commitments or other impediments to studying, would be like? To immerse myself in it - fully. Total headspin.

Day 1.

Can't type, can't write. Embarking on full-time studies ill-equipped. Doomed.