A New Project, Family History Pitfalls, and a Special Offer

 

If I didn't have writing, I think I would have gone mad by now. I have no idea how people are coping with a year of on and off lockdown, and Brexit too. Not well, I suspect. We are, let's face it, very lucky. We have a nice old house, (demanding but nice) we have a lovely garden (equally demanding, but also nice, especially now that spring seems to be on the way) and we are well used to working from home. I've been editing some old work, and researching a new book, centring on the story of my Polish grandfather. 

Truth to tell, I'm still not sure what kind of book this will be - not fiction, because it really happened and I don't want it to be 'based on'. But not a grim history either, even though this period in history was very grim for those concerned and this man's life was ultimately tragic. It's beginning to look like narrative, reflective non fiction. Whatever that might be. I don't know yet. I need to write it to find out.  

I've done a lot of sorting out of material that I've been sitting on for many years. Now I have a box of files that are, essentially, a book in kit form. Some of these files - one in particular - is labelled 'can of worms'.  The interesting thing is that coming back to this file some 30 years after I first engaged with the material inside it, shows me just how much I've matured over that time, and how impossible it would have been to tackle this project any earlier. It'll be hard, even now - but my understanding has grown, as has my understanding of a page full of notes, among the many pages that my dear dad wrote down for me not long before he died, far too young, in 1995. 

Rereading it, somewhat gingerly, it struck me that I must have filed it away without even reading it properly the first time round. Now, coming back to it all these years later, the wisdom of my dad's response to something I had discovered about my grandfather strikes me very forcibly. So much so that I keep wanting to go for a long walk with my dad, and talk to him about it all. But I can't. And back then, I couldn't either, because he was unwell, and besides, I simply didn't have the wisdom of experience myself. I just didn't know what I didn't know. 

So, maybe that's what the book will be. The conversation I didn't have. 

Once again, family history research proves to be a minefield. Nothing is what you assume it to be. You draw conclusions and then find out something that proves them wrong. 

Anyway - this is me prevaricating before diving into that box of problems again. Wish me luck.

'Where do you want to go, when we can go somewhere?' my husband asked me the other day. He didn't mean real travel. That would involve us seeing our son for the first time in more than a year. He meant when we can go somewhere that isn't five flaming miles from the house. We've been thinking about it a lot. Castle Kennedy in a couple of months time, when the azaleas and rhodies are in bloom will be good. 

Castle Kennedy

Later in the year, Skye, to visit our friends there, but that will involve an overnight stay somewhere on the way. 

Meanwhile, here's a special offer. My spooky little novella Rewilding is on sale for 99p for a week, so if you're reading this within the required time and love Scotland, myth and magic and slightly odd stories, grab yourself a bargain. 

Skye from Raasay

Losing It

Meanwhile, our old cherry,
that we thought was dead, is flowering. 

I lost it with Woman's Hour this morning. Got so angry that I could have put my foot through the radio.

We are in the middle of a pandemic, we are on lockdown and have been for some weeks, we are worried about our loved ones and our finances, our media are pumping out news of death and despair every hour of every day, and all while we are bombarded with ill informed speculation from a hundred unscientific sources on social media - the more confident the assertions, the less reliable the data.

Then, while I was attending to some correspondence this morning, I switched on BBC R4's Woman's Hour.


Oh great. A programme all about death.

Even I, as a playwright, find it hard to imagine the online planning meeting they must have had about this one. But I'll try.

Gosh, somebody would have said. What can we do to cheer people up? What can we do to improve their mental health? How can we show them that there might be some light at the end of the tunnel that isn't an oncoming train?

I know. Let's talk about death. That'll do the trick. That'll give them the kick up the backside they need. I mean it's not as if it's on people's minds right now, is it? Not as if it's something they've even considered. Not now. Too busy enjoying themselves - you know, trying to find food and bog roll while avoiding other people, trying to entertain and educate their kids and wash everything that comes into the house. They must be loving it so much that we'd better give them a counterbalance to all that thoughtless pleasure.

Honestly. I practically fell over my feet in the rush to switch the buggers off. It was a prime example of what my dear late radio drama producer Hamish Wilson used to call 'the shit click effect'. When the listener says 'shit' and reaches for the off switch.

Which I did.

But in the current situation, when lockdown is really beginning to bite, when many people are fighting their own private battles with depression and fear, and yet showing a brave face to the rest of the world - how unforgivable was this in a national broadcaster?

Don't get me wrong. There is a time and a place for these conversations.
But that time is not now.
Here's some beautiful guitar music instead.

An Empty Planner, Easter Anyway and a New Book

Easter is happening anyway

If you haven't heard from me for a while, it's because we've been having internet problems and it's still not sorted. Part of the problem is that in this very rural area, lots more people than usual are working from home - or kids are online during the day. Can't complain about that at all, but it puts a strain on a not very adequate system. Now, our landline has gone wonky. I have spent a couple of days galloping about like a mad thing, up and down stairs too,  plugging and unplugging connectors on the instructions of our broadband and landline provider - fair play to EE who answered the phone within seconds which at any time would be good, but in the current difficult situation is outstanding!

The net result is that an engineer is coming to do some (outdoor) work next week. Even though their simple line test indicated that the line was fine, it clearly wasn't, since the woman at the other end could hear the hisses and crackles even while she was talking to me! Meanwhile, with all our phones unplugged, the internet is - just - accessible. And although I have a mobile, the signal here is equally dodgy, so any phonecalls have to be taken at the back of the house. Not quite hanging out of an upstairs window, but it's heading that way ...

Hope lockdown is being kind to you. We feel lucky - and acknowledge this every single day - to be living in a supportive rural community, and to have the blessing of a village shop, a garden and good neighbours. We miss our friends and of course we worry terribly about our son on even more strict lockdown in Barcelona. Although at least he too can work from home so the time passes quickly.

But even without visitors, Easter is happening anyway - and this is still my favourite time of year. The view from the window of the room where I work changes a little every single day, with a haze of green over the trees growing in intensity. My hay fever is growing too, but that's beside the point!

I've another reason to count my blessings. For writers, sitting at home working is a normal condition. And since I've been married to a self employed artist for thirty five years, we're used to working in the same house and avoiding each other if we need to - so to a great extent we're getting on with things and I'm finding the empty year planner quite liberating albeit financially worrying!.

A new novel seems to be underway. Filling my head, at least. More about it in due course. It's the one - contrary to my own expectations - that lots of people have asked me about.