The Weekend (and all it entails).

Sooo, it's the weekend. Everyone's favourite piece of time outside of the week. A veritable haven between the exhaustion of Friday and the feet-dragging toil that is Monday morning. This weekend, I have been productive, but not in the way I ought.
Apart from experimenting with new hairstyles vis-a-Val Denton and Diana from The Years between, I have been a busy, busy thing:

This morning I had an interview with the District Commissioner and various official people about being a Scout Leader which was possibly one final check that I wasn't a paedophile. It went well, and I got a free bacon roll and cup of tea out of it. Not bad for Saturday morning.

Also went to gather materials and shiny new pens from Hobbycraft which, other than being a rip off, is the magical place where all stationary and craft materials go once they've sold out to The Man. Needed a sketchbook, and fast, so there was no real choice.

Then found out through that wonderful gossip machine, Facebook, that there was a Jumble Sale on in Blissworth. Being a sufferer of Boot Sale withdrawal, myself, I was up in arms about going. So we went, and I swear I have bought a poor-man's wardrobe in clothes, along with some books, a DVD, a bowl, some free tupperware from a woman who insisted that being a student equates to needing charity aaaand a pipe which makes me feel like Sherlock Holmes. Also some pressies for my Padre, whose birthday is on Wednesday. :)  ALL of this, I add, for under £3. Mind. Blown. Milo would definitely be proud.


Thanks, Worley.

So, as far as other plans go. Tonight is set to be an excellent Stay-In-Day-Late-Pub Therapy session, with added amusement and DVDs and Annas. Which makes me unreasonably excited, but I think I'm still riding the high of feeling like an utter thief for paying only 10/20p a piece for clothes. I love living in a village.

That is all for now, darlings, over and out, a bien tot!

Milo Minderbinder, in all his odd-eyed, money-spinning, ginger glory!

Leisurely re-read of Catch-22. Milo's just appeared for the first time. I love this book more than the words used to write it. Unf.

Also, The Years Between by Daphne De Maurier this evening at the Royal: I am rarely impressed by actresses, but the darling playing Diana was quite, quite spectacular. As was the ever ebulient Ernest, and the vertically priveledged Richard. Gorgeous.

For those who know, I have found a probable solution to what has become known as The Elf Dilemma. Thank Moses.

Don't judge a box by it's card-board.

Padre bought a box of books in the Woburn Auction (the auction is made up of boxes of odds and ends) for just £5. In this box, we have two copies of Mein Kampf. One of them is an original German edition from 1938. A similar one of these sold on e-bay for about £150. The other is an English edition from the following year (e-bay reckons about £50!) The rest of the books are an array of very interesting Nazi Germany related books including one by Goerring. And they're all pretty good condition, too.

My mind is blown. Am going to offer to pay Padre for the box of books (he wouldn't have bought it if I wasn't interested in such things), or steal the MK's away to fund my increasingly expensive life.

The weird, weird scenario of Hitler directly contributing to my education fees may be on the horizon.

Mind. Blown.

Resolutions - and how they don't always fail.

Finishing a book is a very strange, unique feeling. An oxymoronic groan in the pit of the stomach; delight in knowing the whole story, despair in having to leave the universe which, through the pages, has become three-dimensional, real in your mind. I get this a lot with books. The number of novels I finish with the decision 'I must read that again' are inumerable, and it is only very rarely that I get the time to do just that.

I promised myself, as something of an End of Year Challenge, that I would finish Year of the King before 2011 arrives, and have just managed it, with one hour and 40 minutes to spare. I am glad to say, though, that I have not rushed it - the book is compelling enough in itself - but have taken it in my own time.

This shows progress. Some time last year (that is, 2009, still) I resolutely decided to take up reading on an industrial scale. This decision wasn't as clinical and emotionless as it sounds, as I don't believe it's possible to force yourself to read things you don't want to - or, indeed, to read for the sake of reading. It was something I had considered for a while:

Having always had myself down as a very slow reader (the first proper novel I remember reading cover-to-cover, without audiobook cheating, was Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, which took me three trudging but enjoyable weeks, aged 8) there had always been little desire to read a lot, until quite recently. Of course, I did read, but I wouldn't have considered it a hobby of any kind.

At this point I met my good chum Ellie, in English and form time. Initially, she hit me with the intimidating news that, during the Summer holidays she had managed to plough through the best part of 11 books (albeit of varying sizes). Gradually, as her prodigious speedy-reading continued this grew into a little bit of a joke for us - we pride ourselves on our English-based banter (which sometimes evolves into mock abuse). It was at this point, when the holidays rolled around, that I set myself the initial challenge of putting my reading to the test, and from there it became something of an addiction (as anyone who bothers to read my rambly literary waffle may have gathered) and now, here I am.

Tomorrow, or rather, next year, I go into my second year of reading recording and booklists and such things. For Christmas I recieved a dashing Book Log (which, amusingly also abbreviates into 'blog') which I look forward to using.

Now, the final thing to do is to work out my New Year's Resolutions for this year. A New Year, a new start (as no doubt countless other bloggers will be explaining) and for me this means:
1. Taking each day as it comes. Trying not to get so stressed out about things, remembering that people have gone through much worse than I am, and putting Padre's 'philosophical' view of life into effect more thoroughly.
2. Getting back on track with A-level work. Being in a bad mood is no excuse for failing exams - but not getting stressed about it, as there will be enough of that in the post-exam period. Just keep thinking about getting your own cutlery!
3. Drawing more. NOT school work related things - carry a sketchbook.
4. Organise that commonplace book; use it.

BT: The End of Mr Y

On rare occasion, you can pick up a book that you've never heard of (even in passing) before and find that it is inspiring, clever and entirely engrossing at the same time. This book (which I heartily recommend as it has prevented me doing any work for the past three days) is one of those.

Initially, I have to admit I was sceptical. The blurb on the back is a frankly shocking representation of it so I admit to some initial internal dread. Judging a book by its cover is something we all do, but all wish we could avoid, and I'm glad, now, the book was given to me as a present, or I mightn't have picked it up at all... Additionally, upon discovering (early on) that the protagonist was a red-haired girly called Ariel, I raised my eyebrows a few times. But it is all justified eventually - and even amusing name puns here and there don't manage to ruin the feel of the book.

The End of Mr Y tells the story of a PhD student who finds herself sucked into a world of life-changing philosophy and scientific discovery through the chance finding of a book in a second-hand book store. This is simplifying it considerably - this isn't a fantasy along the lines of The Never-Ending Story. The book combines intelligent theoretical scientific and philosophical discussions within a very humanistic and down-to-Earth narrative, which makes even the hard science upon which it is based a delight to digest.

This is the sort of fiction you read and, afterwards, come out feeling as though you have not only enjoyed reading it, but you have tangibly learned a lot along the way about quantum physics, literature, philosophy, theology and, in a way, about life in general. I can't count the number of times I read things which made me think, 'Oh God, I wish so-and-so had read this' and 'Ooh, I must tell such and such' because there is such a broad spectrum of interest within it.

So yes, I recommend it wholeheartedly and have tried to extol its virtues without ruining all the juicy surprises along the way.

Retail Therapy

This weekend I have been feeling pretty down - this led to some rather excellent retail therapy, which in turn led to my buying a very gorgeous aviator jacket of the kind I have been drooling after for quite a while. Problem being that now I am poor, and unable to buy a matching hat. Alas.

Matching hat definitely going on my Christmas list.

Additionally, this house is very cold. Despite being all bedridden and doubly duvetted-up, my hands are getting damned cold from typing.

Also, have missed Rosie's birthday - merde and a half - will have to bring in pressies tomorrow.

Even more also, read a book about racial harmony and things. I blame Climax, but also the fact that it was about a Latin teacher. Merging of interests, nom nom nom. It was quite good, actually. Hmm...

What A Week (Part the Second) + The Brink of Adulthood

The brink of Adulthood is where I am speaking to you from right this very moment. It is the strange sensation of feeling both old and desperately young at the same time. This week I have built up my transition to being an adult proper through embracing the opportunities given to me, first, becoming a cub leader, and now taking up my new vocation at Delapré Abbey.

I had my first day at the latter today and needless to say, it was a little bit daunting. At the same time, it was, however, hilarious. Let me tell you why:

Imagine a crisp November morning. A young (but also almost old) lady arrives at an old (but also very new to her) ex-nunnery-cum-stables-cum-wartime-base-cum-tea-room. She sees the door is closed and that no signs are out and therefore assumes she is the first to be there. Commence knocking on door, stepping back, peering through windows ad nauseum. After making a lengthy dick (ooer) of herself, she tries the door and finds it is in fact open and everything is GOING ON inside.

Rachel: 0, World: 1

Later on, after a delightful tour of the building and an introduction to the other staff (further details below) she takes her first order, serves up some darned good looking carrot cake and, feeling superb, suddenly freezes with horror. She's put the bell-jar-lid on another and it is now stuck there as though someone has glued it. After much flailing and (slightly too) loud wrenching, she is forced to concede and request help. Rookie mistake.

Rachel: 0, World: 2

The staff consisted on this particular day (I am informed it fluctuates) of two mid-twenties chaps and two mid-early-forties ladies. The chaps are named Ben and Alex. Now, I know what you must be thinking. Oh God, Rachel, your track record with people named Alex is shocking, keep back! But it was not Alex who was the issue. Benjamin (as I would never call him to his face) is lovely, I'm sure, but also has the quite annoying habit of explaining anecdotes with sound effects, which seems to be a marked trait of Northamptonian chaps who try to chat me up. (This being what he did, in a rather suave and charming, but also, parce que les sound effects, slightly grating fashion). Now, I'm not used to getting chatted up to begin with - on a normal day, this simply does not occur, and as such, it was difficult to know how to respond in the appropriate fashion without looking a) like a dick or b) like I was particularly interested. However, the interest proves that, somewhere, I have some form of feminine charm. Hurrah!

Rachel: 1, World: 2

I also discovered that the tearoom bookshelf is a swap-shop-free-for-all, with optional donations. Score!

Rachel: 2, World: 3

However, I also showed the reason for my dropping maths like a hot-potato after GCSE by proving my inadequate addition-under-pressure skills. What's more, Ben turns out to be something of a mathematical genius. This meant that I had to refer to him for quick-fire addition. He also makes a damned good tea (and for some reason was dubbed by me, in a moment of clear insanity the King of Beverages).

Rachel: 2, World: 4

However, there were comments made about my ability to bring in customers (hopefully not simply my status as a "free and single" young child-soontobe-woman) and I mastered the inclusion of sugar (and dog biscuits!) to outside table orders.

Rachel: 3, World: 4

And finally, I was invited back, and am soon to bash through the glass ceiling of childhood into adulthood, whether my maths and demure-womanly skills are up to par or not!

Rachel: 4, World: 4

It's a draw. Can't take me out THAT easily, world. Bahahaa.

Er, yes, composure.

Anyhow, I am very much looking forward to a lovely dinner with the girls in town, which we will be descending upon in a few hours in various states of dress! I'm sure it will be smashing!

All for now, ttfn.

NOM. NOM. NOM. :D

Today was very exciting in that it was the first day I released some of my creative writing into the wild. That is, let anybody read it who wasn't directly involved in its genesis. This was an intimidating prospect as I have always had a horrid, underlying sense of doubt as to whether it was any good. When you write something for yourself, and know it inside out, it's very easy for your mind to fill in the gaps and turn something mediocre into an absolute Odyssey of emotion and depth and what-not.

So naturally when I asked my dad to read the first (very tiny) bit of it last night, it was with a great deal of apprehension, and apology. Since then, various people have read and commented on it, and I am feeling a smidge more confident.

Aside from that, however, it is as though an entire new vista of excitement has opened up in that now I am able to share these characters and things which have been very close to my heart, but locked away in the realm of unspoken things, with people. It gave me a definite rush, which possibly contributed to my excessive hyperactivity this afternoon after a lesson with Mr Anderson where we discussed the thing for an hour solid.

I cannot recall ever being so naturally excited about anything as I am my writing - it's strange because for ages I was so sure that I wanted to pursue art, and now I can barely bring myself to dash out coursework pieces. I just want to write and write and read and do a bit more writing... Also, when I don't write for a few days I get horrid pangs of needing to, which is bloody disastrous.

It's part addiction, part obsession and 100% exciting. :D

---------------

In other news, Mr Anderson has been hiding the fact he has been in possession of a copy of Burgess' 1985 for as long as I have known him! This makes me one third annoyed, as I have been searching ad frustra for a copy for as long as I can remember, one third delighted, as it means my search is over and one third as though my day could not get much better.

All thought of coursework deadlines? Kaput.

What ho!

First off, I have a horrid recurring sore throat. It returns at 9pm almost exactly, and endures until about 11am every day. God knows what's up with it.

Anyway, I have spent a large part of this evening reading P.G. Wodehouse stories aloud to myself with great enthusiasm. I have my Bertie Wooster and Jeeves voices PERFECTED, though I also really enjoyed doing a painfully gruff and proper one for the Duke of Chiswick (possibly hence enhanced throat issues...) I have strong opinions on this, and I'm going to throw it out there for the world to see - Wodehousian slang needs a mass revival, what! From now on, I am going to make it my job to include more than simply the occasional expeditionary TALLY HO!

Once I was done with that reading lark, I set to tidying up my bookshelves (which had become disastrous and painful to look at), and in doing so rediscovered my OCD tendencies whenever it comes to tidying anything. I have now got separate (and dashed well tidy!) shelves for my classics, my reading guides, my as of now alphabetised general books, my reference books, my non-fiction garb and, of course, the kiddies series shelf remains! In addition, I now have a rather spiffing audiobook shelf, for all those cassettes I don't have a player for, and such like.

I feel dashed accomplished, I'll have you know. Capital idea, it was, too. :)

Bookythought II + Confusion.

Whether it was the knowledge that it was written by a student (which gives us all hope!), the Edinburgh -related documentary I watched a few years ago, or my sudden interest in crime novels influenced by Fatherland, I recently found myself reading the first of Ian Rankin's Rebus novels, Knots and Crosses. First off, I was amused by the rivalry between Rebus and Anderson, as it made me think of Anderson from Moffat's Sherlock (whom I believe to be in Conan Doyle's novels, too, though I've not got to him yet!) My limited knowledge of detective-based books has thus far led me to the understanding that it is not a good mystery unless there's an annoying member of the Anderson clan lurking about in the background, making the protagonist's life a little harder.

I thoroughly enjoyed the book - especially the final few chapters when everything tied together in that lovely way a good novel always ought to. While I'd spent the first half, or so, thinking the book to be a bit more shallow than it was, I was delighted when things started to tie together, even if I had had my suspicions who (if not why) the strangler was for a little while.

Anyhow, this led me to thinking about the amusing connections between Sherlock and K&C, including Anderson's excuse of a 'drugs raid' in order to search Sherlock's apartment, which I was reminded of while reading about Jim Stevens' false leads about Rebus. Rebus, not having a 'Watson' of his own (if we ignore Gill) the similarities quickly fail there. Fun to ponder about, but almost definitely the result of teachers reading connections into everything; it's rubbing off on me.

In any case, I am currently in the process of hunting down the second of the series, Hide & Seek - into which, considering the connections made by the first novel (Deacon Brodie), I will happily read Jekyll and Hyde references. "If he be Mr Hyde, I shall be Mr. Seek" &c. I do like things that are based on puns. :D

***

How is it, too, that it's possible to do more work while off sick from college, than while actually there? The amount of time we waste doing very little in the classroom is confusing and concerning - especially with the number of deadlines they expect us to work to.

Back to bed for me now, though,

Tata!

Fatherland - Robert Harris

I mentioned in my post here that I was reading Fatherland by Robert Harris. I first picked it up as part of a one-off rummage through the shelves of Waterstones/Ottakars/Whatever-it-now-goes-by, in order to get a 3 for 2 discount. Definitely worth the extortion (though I eventually read the copy on my Kindle instead...)

This book is good in numerous ways, but especially in the amount of research behind it, and its attention to detail. In short terms, it is a historical mystery/thriller set in 1960's Berlin in a universe where the Nazis won WWII and the Third Reich was allowed to grow into fruition. Albert Speer's 'Germania' had been built, and everything was trundling on with benign obliviousness to the horrors of the war crimes committed by the Nazi Government during the war. That is, until Xavier March, divorcée, Kripo officer and suspected defector finds himself dragged into something that he probably oughtn't to be!

The plot (which I won't divulge because we all hate spoilers!) weaves in and out of true events and documents, and is set in the run up to the Fuhrertag, Hitler's 75th birthday.

Overall: For the interesting plot, delightful levels of author research and its sheer readability, it's a great book. (Y)

Bookythought

Pondering about the relevance of WWII in 1984 as I potter my way through Fatherland by Robert Harris (which I heartily recommend, by the way) and was wondering about the inspiration behind Orwell's Newspeak abbreviations of the ministries in Oceania - MiniLuv (Ministry of Love), MiniTru (Ministry of Truth) etc.

In Nazi Germany, the polizei departments were commonly abbreviated in a similar way - the most often seen one being the Geheime Staatspolizei - the Gestapo. This was the same for the Kripo (Kriminal Polizei) and the Orpo (Ordnungspolizei) too.

Now, while obviously the point of Newspeak is to minimise the potential for thoughtcrime through language, I also read somewhere that some of the concepts behind 1984 lie in Orwell's vision of a Nazi-dominated world. For example, the Thought Police strongly resemble a hyperbolised gestapo, and the ideas of perpetual war would have appealed greatly to Hitler etc. So the influence coming from there would make some sense!

I do love when history happens in books. Nom!