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Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts

Tuesday, 21 May 2013

It ain't over until the fat lady sings!


This blog is far from over, and yet I am still getting to grips with being back to my humble, ever so humble origins, here on Blogger.

She's off again, I hear you say!

Someone stole my bloglet.

They did!   I was sent information to re-new my blog domain.   Blog?   I didn't even have my own lap-top.   You probably noticed.    That was in the whole 'soaking a lap-top in gin can never be a good thing', Christmas spectastacle.   Truly.   I could not afford to renew my licence, but I had no idea what was to happen.next...

And, do you know, my beloved meaningful blogname was sold to a mad flibbertigibbet.   What do you mean, you never noticed?!   She is a bism.   Of the first degree.   I tell yer.

Abandon her in droves but lover, come back to me?


Anyhoo, what have I been up to, you ask?

Nay.   More to the point, what have you been up to, mes bloggy chums?

I have missed your damp noses and warm whiskers.   There, I'm chuckling you behind the ears, in that soft-warm spot you have there.   There, there...

I have a special chuckle under the chin for the dahlink, darling John - Scriptor Senex, for it is he, who has restored me to some semblance of normality.   Scriptor, whose bold advice brought me back the techie bits of the blog I feared I had lost.   And I am sorely grateful to his magnificence, I really am.  

Merci mille, mon ami - And for those of you who don't know John, here he is with his very own barrel of laughs!

Lots of my memories are here, you see.   Strings of silken threads bound up with boiled eggs, toast, love, tea, whiskers and honey.   A smidgen of the scent of the love I have for my son, Grizz, who's now 21 and taller than a bean-stalk, but beautiful and half-wild is writ here.

En effet, I have more heart and memories locked in this bunch of feral words written across the years than I've ever committed anywhere.  Perhaps I will be committed.   I thought I might be when I lost my blog into the sparky ether.

Meanwhile, I've been ueber-busy with my psychotherapy course.   Much work is now in hand to 'graduate' this summer - I may even post a picture, if I pass...   Eek!   If they've got a graduation gown that fits my ampule form, that is!

I've been busy with the new job(s).   I have 3.   Do you think that's enough?   I think so.   It's been doing me heid in, I swear...   I think I need to ditch one.   I am Arthur Mullarding on that just now.

And, honestly, I've been busy with life which, on occasions, has threatened to strangle all life out of me.   Aren't we all, I hear you whisper...

And we all are.

Take time out to smell the coffee, the flowers, the fine feathers on a bird's under-wing.

Take time out for you.   Je vous embrasse.   Don't be shy!

Tell me your news.   I've missed you so much.    Mwah!


Saturday, 3 September 2011

Dear Blog...


Dear Blog,

As much as I love you dearly, please recall that I am entitled by European law to some time off from time to time...de temps en temps as they say en France.

It is to this end that, horreur de horreurs, I shall not be scheduling any postings during my petit absence.

For I am also giving my lovely readers and fiends here a little time off too.

Because they're worth it!

They've done loads lately to bolster me when I was feeling bleu, (which encompasses a lot of the year, really...)

Their recent kindnesses to me after I wrote while I wept a well of tears about deeds I have procrastinated over and the loves that leave their mark in grieving, I shall not forget...

You lift me up. I hope you know it.

Thankyou, kindly. I am most grateful to you.

Je vous aime...

And isn't love everything?

Yeah, I'm mushy!

A bientot, mes amis... See you soon. Take care.

Yours, de tout mon coeur,

Fhina xxx

Wednesday, 29 December 2010

The Blog as Muse...



Sshhh! I've only got a few moments. GJ is in the bath and I can hear him about to let the water out. He manages to make sounds just as if a runaway hippo has landed in the midst of my bathroom for a surreptitious wallow... I love that word, 'surreptitious' - I haven't used it in ages. Note to self...

Is it still the Christmas holidays? Is there life at all out there in the world? Is there a future after eating more at Christmas than said runaway hippo could consume? Have I missed the sales?

I am wallowing at home, I must admit. Grizzler is also home from College and takes up more space than a herd of giraffe. That's when he's awake. Which doesn't appear to be that often. When he is, he wanders through the living room languidly, nibbling leaves off the top of trees, and only yesterday I saw him stoop to take his wallet from the top of what I like to call my Belgian bureau. I need a step-ladder to reach the top of it. He merely looks down upon its form, and secretes things up there he doesn't want us short folk to find.

The large cream leather sofa that we bought as a family seven years ago is proving otherwise - And we have all out-grown it. Grizz slumps to his full length at one end, tippy-tappying away, communicating with other teen alien life-forms, including his sweet girlfriend - I sit at the other end, laptop on the arm of the chaise longue bit, legs tucked beneath me, reading blogs and ancestor hunting. ...GJ now has to sit on the floor. The only part of him that is able to attain the sofa when we are both ensconced, Grizz and I, is his elbow. His face looks a bit like Queen Victoria's did when she was wont to say, "We are not amused!"

My husband complains profusely at our irritating tippy-tappy getting in the way of his watching endless re-runs on the Discovery and History channels. Hence not blogging in ages...

Thank you for all of your good wishes. I wish you well and hope that all your plans for New Year are splendiferous.

Weather has been particularly crap here. Lots of snowfall, treacherous roads. So, we were reduced to only going out hunter-gatherer style, for weeks. Today, low mist lies in this part of the Coquet Valley like snow-white candy floss. It's beautiful. There has been a bit of a melt and the roads are beginning to re-appear from their icy tombs. ...I hope for an outing. The skies are white-pink and blue.

I would like to buy some inserts for the new Botanic Filofax I treated myself to for my Christmas stocking...

Yes, of course I treated myself. If I didn't, who would?

As it was, the actual diary part dated from 2008, so not even last year, hence its bargain price ticket! Filofax describes it as "young, funky and utterly now" - Very me then!

I have two Filofaxes - I was feeling a little bad about that, the avarice of it, as it were, until I just read THIS at the English Muse's blog HERE. I found her bloglette while looking for some suitable photos on Google.

I shall return thence for more reading, when I am banned from the tippy-tappy very shortly. I heard the hippo moving about upstairs earlier. Only a few short mo's until I hear his tender trotters traverse the stairs...

Anyhoo, this blogger, a journalist for the LA Times, has seven, and uses one purely for Inspiration - I love the idea of that - Living inside your mind and exploiting your creative urges so. I might use my electric pink pleather Filofax that GJ gave me several years ago, just for that.

Then again, using one as an address book, also seems an interesting option. Particularly when my horizons are starting to expand with the threat of beginning my voluntary Psychotherapeutic Counselling placement, perhaps in a doctors' practice, (as soon as I can find anyone gullible enough to take me on), at some point in the New Year. I'll need to be muchly organised then...


My goddess, how I have rambled today.

You see, without the regular discipline of being a Bloggerista, just how quickly do I return to being a Rambler Without A Cause...

So, to end, because it's about time to let you get on with far more important things - Here, I have been and no further, relaxing at home, slobbing about, scarcely even combing the wrinkles out of my hair some days, and I really feel as if I would like to be some place I would find even more relaxing...

Like here. Well, wouldn't you? ~ Ciao, mes amis - Mwah!


Sunday, 13 June 2010

Are you unwritten? Comments, or non!


Just for those who are interested and who have asked...

The new header picture is Edie Bouvier Beale of Grey Gardens fame. Do you remember when I said that this year of blogging was to have a Grey Gardens theme to it, like last year's Scarlett Jo?!

Well, there you are!

CLICKIE

I love the lyrics and British market video here, sung and written by the wonderfully talented Natasha Bedingfield, Daniel's sister...

GJ, Grizz and I had the pleasure of seeing Natasha at one of our smaller theatres in Newcastle a few years back, on the brink of what has become a little glittering career...

She was accompanied by her fabulous stable-mate and some-time beau of Amy Winehouse, and still sadly unsigned, Tyler James... Here:


What I like about Natasha's words is that they are so true of all of us, n'est-ce-pas, that parts of us are still unformed, still very much in development, remaining 'unwritten'...

I know I'm not finished yet.

How 'bout you?

"I am unwritten. Can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand,
Ending unplanned...
Staring at the blank page before you, open up the dirty window,
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find...

Reaching for something in the distance, so close you can almost taste it.
Release your inhibitions. Feel the rain on your skin...
No-one else can feel it for you,
Only you can let it in...
Today is where your book begins.
The rest is still unwritten...

Finally, will you tell me something? Whisper it in my ear, mes bloggy cotton-buds!

I have got into the bad habit of talking to you'ses through your own blogs (albeit sometimes sporadically, mea culpa...) rather than by responding to your comments, which I dearly treasure...

And I got to wondering, which do you prefer?

Do you come back to see if I do respond to comments, and have I unwittingly been letting you down, or are you happy to be long-distance pen-pals, like cruise ships that pass in the night??!

Please whisper in my shell-like?

Please spill les haricots...

(The french beans, silly!)

Your wish is my command - Alla-shazam, says the sexy genie!

Rub the lamp!

Wednesday, 21 April 2010

What's on Wednesday??!


Well you've been so wonderful to me, thank you so, and Monday brought me the delights of a day to myself in the city...

Feeling stronger, but colder in the still winter-tinged air, and open to new experiences, I met my friend, Pamlette for brunch, and she regaled me with the detail of her wonderful life without the constraints of work, and she listened to my woeful history of late, which you've all been very accommodating of recently, mes braves...

Then, I wandered comfortably amid the delights of our Victorian art gallery, the Laing, and found copies of sixteenth century French maps of the city now languishing in the British Museum; Georgian watercolours of what was, and what now could never be, and Victorian watercolours painted by the architects of the majesty of our northern city, once built by coal and industry - The imposing station with its columns and freezing air, a former impressive town hall glistening, now sadly demolished; Galleries to swish your crinolines in; Light-filled shopping arcades that once echoed with laughter and gaiety, and the ghosts of what our city might have been had not our Twentieth Century modernistic forefathers in the Sixties demolished all that was good in their wake, in favour of glass and concrete and progress and multi-storey, poverty-filled despair...

And then I encountered the one in a million that is Sara... Fab, feisty and fifty she may be, but she'd pass for just over half of that, bless her cotton socks... She can't see this herself, bien sur...

What is there to say? Beauty and wonder and the frisson of feeling like you've known this bloggy friend all of your life, while only knowing them but a year in Blogland...

What can you say about one's strength and power, energy and radiance, experiencing the magical Rufus Wainwright, songsmith of our lives, and the short life of the honourable architect of our soot-dappled city, John Dobson...

On this, whole lives have been built...

Be thankful, friends, for beauty and wonder in your lives, in spite of the broiling maelstrom of la vie quotidienne...

Friday, 6 February 2009

Write on! Respect the Blog!

soapbox Pictures, Images and Photos I'm on a bit of a soapbox today, and it's a very valid one that you might like to get on too!

Firstly, however, I'd like to acknowledge the very lovely, sparkly crown I have been fortunate enough to be given by the wonderful Diane over at Diane's Addled Ramblings. Diane is a gifted writer, warm and truthful, vulnerable and extraordinary, and she is to be treasured; I love her with the bits of my heart that Saz over at Fat, frumpy and fifty doesn't have! (And not to forget Braja, for if you have not experienced her vivid tales of living in India, then you have not lived!)

Diane received this unique crown from the inimitable Braja, and in turn has asked to share it with me, which is just so darling, I am about to gush!

It’s the Queen of All Rambling Award, and I am allowed to timeshare it with Diane, and am as pink as my page, as I type, or more usually, ramble!

I feel like a princess, and I have so rarely felt that!
princess Pictures, Images and Photos


HAREM Pictures, Images and Photos Please go visit with this denizen of beauties if you have not already. If not, you might find me leaning over you in bed one night, asking you exactly why...... You'll recognise me because I'll be the one in the beautiful crown!

Kate Winslet Pictures, Images and Photos And now wiping my proud tears, I shall move on to the reasoning behind the Write on! Respect the Blog! button on my sidebar to your right.


The groundswell of support behind this online movement stems from this dodgy article: "Danger online: Perils of revealing every intimate moment in the Times On-Line," which had many bloggers' venom up, to say the least!

Canadian, Don Mills Diva, was named in the article, and writing in her blog was misappropriated and twisted in a shamefully lazy piece of journalism, more worthy of the tabloids. The journalists involved aimed to disparage the Blogging Community, purely to 'puff' a new book on 'Cyburbia'!

I sense professional rivalry, and hissy fits from an editor more concerned at losing revenue to Cyberland, rather than any real dangers posed by the more sensible and sensitive blogger, which I think accounts for all of you whose blogs I have the pleasure of reading...

The article refers to issues when people have been too candid in their blogs, thereby potentially surrendering their privacy up to others, and where writers are spending more time blogging, rather devoting more time to face-to-face interaction... It talks about the dangers of being tempted by a baying audience to reveal more and more about yourself, in order to gain popularity and readership... The article implies, as many anti-blogging journos do, that we are unprofessional, with the capacity to dilute journalism proper...

Oh, grow up and put your dummy (pacifier) back in!

One thing I found of particular interest was set out in this paragraph: "But how authentic are blogs anyway? Are we totally truthful in them or partly acting? In an article in Psychology magazine entitled “The Decline and Fall of the Private Self”, Jamie Pennebaker, Professor of Psychology at the University of Texas in Austin, believes that blogging has elements of theatre with people, say, blunting the edges of ugly revelation with humorous comment, always with an eye on self-presentation. “If you're writing and you know lots of people are going to be looking at it you're going to change things to make yourself look good.”

For heaven's sake, these people are more deluded than I think they are if they believe for one instant that the majority of people we rub shoulders with in la vie quotidienne are not acting and dissembling!!! Sorry for the over-punctuation, it's that which marks me out as a non-journalist, I guess!

I have oft worked with colleagues who have admitted to me that they are not honest about themselves; They never let on to a boss, for example, that they are struggling with something, or that they don't understand him or her - They are not true to themselves, and in doing so, they only allow the best parts of themselves to be seen - This means of course that the more naive or absent boss believes them to be 'holier than thou', and they want to keep it that way...Thank you very much!

I think that is the case with the majority of folk in our throw-away, shallow and vacuous, fame-obsessed, 'Zelebrity Ruled' society.

quill pen Pictures, Images and Photos Here in Blogland, Cyburbia, or whatever you want to call it, I am:

able to be thrilled by images and sounds from continents and towns I might never be fortunate enough to visit;
Treasure Hunters Map Pictures, Images and Photos

heartened by listening to others' experience of life, and boldened by feedback, which in turn helps me to become more self-aware and sociable, (when I am restricted pretty much to the home at the moment...);

parenting Pictures, Images and Photos I enjoy sharing parenting tips with younger parents, and more experienced parents, who are struggling (albeit often very comically) with life's stresses, and who might just benefit from my own lessons learned; 'There by the grace of goddess Wiki go I', and all that... and I may learn much from them!

I enjoy light-hearted banter across generations - This experience is priceless to me now that my own access to more mature and more wise folk has been cut off by the sad departures of my own loved ones;

I enjoy sharing similarities, lives, loves and some madness (mine!) with kindred spirits - These are often people who are not 'ten-a-penny' in my experience, and whom I might never have had the great good fortune to encounter in 'real life' because of the distances that separate us;

And above all, I am here because you make me ponder and muse, smile and cry;
Theatre, baby! Pictures, Images and Photos

Craic Pictures, Images and Photos I enjoy the fellow-feeling of a circle of excellent writers and raconteurs; Above all you people make my day!

bravo Pictures, Images and Photos

I did mention I was getting on my soapbox today, didn't I? Soapbox Pictures, Images and Photos Don't be overly alarmed, it doesn't happen often, and I won't be burning any bras, for fear of creating a public hazard!

hazard Pictures, Images and Photos

As Don Mills Diva said in her blog on Friday 30 January, "I want you to speak up and tell the world that you and your writing and your blog deserve respect; from the Times On-Line, from the mainstream media and from every one of the millions of so-called "professional" journalists out there who have mused about whether blogs ruin journalism.

buttons Pictures, Images and Photos Here's the button and the code:



Throw it in your sidebar and then maybe write a post. Write from your heart about what makes you and your writing and your blog worthy of respect".

love comments Pictures, Images and Photos Incidentally, in the right to comment box on the article, Mary Ellen from Richmond, USA wrote:

"Don't you understand? We people are tired of being numbers in a society that could care less about who we are! We are stating that we are HUMAN - with lives, and thoughts and feelings! We are MORE THAN A NUMBER and MORE than a statistic! This is a type of HUMAN REVOLUTION & it's necessary". prisoner Pictures, Images and Photos

And,

Steve from Essex wrote:

"Silver linings-Silver linings Pictures, Images and Photos
- Typing has revived from its 1970s nadir.
- Putting thoughts into words is more stimulating than vacuous TV viewing that drained time in the 1980s
- Posterity will know more of the pre-war generation (from letters), nothing of the 1960-80s (communications by 'phone) and more about the present (via e-mail and blogs)'" More perhaps than ever before... And why not?


Blogging is shared treasure...

JW - Shared Treasure Pictures, Images and Photos

Friday, 9 January 2009

A Sense Of Self

You'll see that I've been tinkering around a little bit with the graphics, while I'm in here reading others' more fascinating blogs, I might as well make myself busy... Well, it saves me from attempting to tidy the house!

I was looking for something to highlight the title, an image, and I understand that a new film of Oscar Wilde's A Woman Of No Importance is being made in 2009. I found this image of Scarlett Johansson under that title, but it turns out that she's not in the film at all...pity. Still, I think she 'pretties' things up a little around here, don't you? And the power of pretty can never be underestimated... I shall return to this theme later in time, no doubt for it is a subject close to my heart!

Yesterday, I tried to give you an insight into my coterie, the family - a close nuclear bunch really. The only character I missed out is The Cat - officially Jet, unofficially Zebedee, Zebou, Zeeb, Blackus Cattus, Le Chat Noir, and so on - It changes on a daily basis. Can you guess his colour? Photobucket

It's just that en famille, we make names up at random, and no-one gets his/her/its proper name - Ever! My son since an early age has called me by the nickname my husband, GJ, calls me - I dare not repeat it here, for it is very childish, even animalistic, (but I have spent much of my adult and mum-life not ever being called 'Mum'... and having passers-by stare at me in the street, when my son as a toddler called out for me).

Hence GJ for my OH, Griz for my son, and over the years he has also responded to the following: Seamus, BatEars, (my mum made us stop calling him that and said he'd get a complex!), Horace, Hortensky (at one stage we did trick my parents into believing that if he were a girl, he would be called Hortense!), Piglit, Pumpkin, The Boy (my proud parents named him thus), and Grizwald!

So when Stinking Billy asked me whether my nom de plume, Fhina, is my real name, I had to be honest, and reply:

"Well Fhina, pronounced as with Ribena (with 'ee'), is a bit of a nom de plume.

I feel akin with the lives of our Celtic and Pagan forebears, and Fhina is a bit of a forgotten name from that time. I picked this info up somewhere:

In Goidelic (Gaelic, but could also stand for Celtic) mythology, Lasair ("flame") was the eldest of three sisters (along with Inghean Bhuidhe and Latiaran, daughters of Douglas and Scathach) associated with the harvest.

She represented the summer and was the goddess of growing crops. She had long black hair and wore a silver crown, jewelry and armbands. Her home was called Red Castle. A god named Flann brought her the Rose of Sweetness (a flower that never dies), the Comb of Magnificence and the Girdle of Truth. Photobucket

After Christianization, she was turned into a saint. Her feast day was May 1.

Alternative: Lassar, Fhína ("flaming wine"), Lasairíona ("flaming wine"), Crobh Dearg ("red claws")

Flaming Wine sounded pretty exotic to me, and I am fond of Gluehwein, and the fruit of the grape more generally, so Fhina has stuck - Hope you like it!"

Celtic Princess and Fairies Pictures, Images and Photos

Doesn't it seem that there so much of our heritage that we have lost, forgotten, or perhaps have chosen to let go as we moved on, "progressed", grew up - Names and history are lost in time, not
always passed down through oral history or storytelling, and therefore lying somehow out of time and out of mind, beyond our grasp... I'd like us to retain something of our past, to learn from it and not lose its lessons...

And still our sense of self is very important to us - Our youth 'tag' walls with graffiti, some of us want to see our name in lights (or print), we tattoo our names on others to mark them, we try to replicate ourselves, in some respects in our dear children..., we wear jewellery with our names or the initial letters, we even choose to blog to mark our position in time and in life...

When John Keats died, his request was that his grave marker should read, ""Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water." john keats Pictures, Images and Photos He wanted no other adornment, he did not believe he would be remembered, or sought after. He did not realise that others would read, nay devour, his poesie, follow in his footsteps - as the girl in thiszoe & keats Pictures, Images and Photos photo has done, to experience something of his life, his loves.

So, in conclusion, I must leave you with the immortal words of the bard, "This above all To thine own self be true Pictures, Images and Photos

Have a fabulous weekend, friends...

Tuesday, 6 January 2009

Memoirs of a Virgin Blogger - Prologue

Well, this is me, a Virgin Blogger! Have pity on my poor damned soul, as I know not what I do...

I am A Woman Of No Importance, or maybe sometimes I'm just feeling sorry for myself! You know, when you look around you and find you've aged inexorably, the body isn't what it was, the face is showing signs of needing serious attention, and you haven't seen your 'Hairdresser To The Stars' (well that's what it said on his DUI rap sheet!) in oh too long?

I have lurked in the wings for long months; reading others' interesting and erudite blogs, which have in all honesty kept me going through times when I've been confined to quarters with a suspected slipped disc and associated, and very painful, sciatica...

I don't know how to add links to your blogs here - Perhaps someone can advise me? I feel as if I know your souls, or those of your dogs, tortoises, children - Delete whichever appropriate. And I am astounded by the lives you lead and the fun you have. Or so it seems to me.

Is it a case of, "I blog therefore I am"?

Something I wrote earlier...

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