reLentless commuting: Day 23 (belated)

•March 22, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Prachettmain_2334426bTerry Pratchett died today.

I found out on twitter in the middle of the day. I work in a small office, which isn’t so much open plan as a room with a bunch of desks; not the best environment for quiet sobbing.

A short walk and phone call to my long-suffering Mum later, I walked back into the silent office. I have no idea if I was missed or if they’d noticed my tears in the first place. Offices can be lonely places when you’re unable to share your grief, or your joy.

On the way home I read his last, heart-rending and poignant tweet to the world:

@terryandrob Terry took Death's arm and followed him through the doors and on to the black desert under the endless night.I looked up at the people in the carriage with me and wondered how many of them might be mourning his passing, and the passing of his characters whose final chapters had already been written.

It’s rare that I don’t see someone reading a Pratchett book in any given month. It was more frequent before e-book readers denied fellow commuters visual eavesdropping on each other’s reading fare.

I wanted to clear my throat and tell the people around me that my favourite author had died, like I had a few hours earlier, only this time be met with something warmer than silence, by an affirmation that I wasn’t the only one. But I would probably just have cried again and embarrassed another bunch of people as they made their way home from work.

I met him once, when he was signing books in my hometown. My Mum had stood in the queue for me for several hours because I’d been in a play at school (see what I mean about long-suffering). When we finally got to the front I saw that he had his hand in a bowl of ice between signings, unfortunately as a star-struck and unemotionally intelligent tweenager I didn’t connect this well enough to desist from excitedly shaking his hand. He was remarkably gracious about the whole thing, a running theme among fans across the world.

My cousin and I traded mournful texts throughout the day. For over 20 years, Christmas has meant the latest Terry Pratchett book. In recent years these tended to get published in October, so led by our stubborn adherence to tradition, we would wait for Christmas day to finally get our hands on it. His wife and my boyfriend were on hand that evening to give us hugs: the sympathy that we could not (and perhaps should not?) expect from our workplace.

As an author, Pratchett leaves behind a wealth of humour and wit and insight and sheer unbounded creativity that I believe will remain loved and appreciated by many generations to come. His death is not the end: new readers will discover his work and for them it won’t matter that he died today. At least, not until they read his last book and realise they must mourn the death of his characters and and the Discworld as he imagined it.

When this Lent is over I will raise a bottle of Discworld Ale in his honour.

reLentless commuting: Day 19

•March 8, 2015 • Leave a Comment

iwd_2015It’s International Women’s Day 2015. A day to celebrate the women in the world, remember those whose memory lives on and raise awareness of women without the rights and freedoms they should have.

Women are amazing. Men are pretty ok, but women are amazing.

It starts around puberty when women start bleeding once a month and continue for several decades until menopause, with the occasional interlude depending on weight, pregnancy or whichever contraceptive she’s using. If she’s lucky enough to have access contraceptive that is, because women also have to contend with the ever present risk of getting pregnant through sex. Although choosing not to have children can also be considered a social faux pas. They are, on average, smaller and less muscular than men, but they have strength that goes beyond the physical.

Women’s tear ducts are smaller than men’s, which is one of the reasons we may be seen to cry more; showing emotion is expected of women and also what can hold us back. But we soldier on. We can be soldiers now, due to the courage and determination of women who refused to conform to expectations.

My Mum is one of those women who refused to conform. She went to a top tier university in the 60s, kept her maiden name in the 70s and went back to work after only a few months in the 80s, earning her the scorn of an angry woman in a shop at one point. Her and my Dad’s first mortgage was from her salary, as he was still a student, but he still had to come in to sign the paperwork on her behalf. She loves her sport and takes joy in shorter queues for the ladies at cricket and football matches.

A few weeks ago one of my Mum’s best friends died suddenly. His wife asked people to write their memories of him and Mum shared hers with me. She writes beautifully; I enjoyed getting to know him again through her words. I also got to know her: some of the things she’d done in her career and in her life, which she hadn’t told me before. As her daughter I am very selfish with her time, which means I know less about her than I should.

I’ve always been encouraged by my Mum but only in the last few years have I realised how much she’s inspired me.

I think it’s brilliant that we have International Women’s Day. Men can have one too, if they want, but I think we need it more. Being a woman isn’t easy and it’s the support and inspiration of other women that makes it so worthwhile.

Thank you, Mum for your support and inspiration. Happy International Women’s Day!

reLentless commuting: Day 16

•March 5, 2015 • Leave a Comment

XKCD flowchartI realised about 7 days ago that setting myself a target of writing a blogpost a day was a) overly ambitious and b) illogical. I think that perhaps I’d expected to spend a few moments every day whinging about my self-imposed abstinence. But neglected to consider whether anyone might actually want to read it.

The real reason I set myself that goal was aspiration by proxy. I had started upon a path of righteous self-improvement and the part of me that would like to do more writing decided to hitch a ride.

Sometimes it’s easier to give something up than it is to take something on.

I was out tonight with a friend of mine who published a book last year: Quantum Confessions. It’s good! A dystopian future involving faith, absence, quantum mechanics and protagonists that have gone through puberty.

It’s a little nerve-wracking reading a book your friend has written, mostly because you so want it to be good and therefore create a micro-climate of anxiety around the experience, but also because you’re aware you may learn things about them you hadn’t expected. “Write what you know” goes the maxim, and then you read a sex scene written by someone you’ve known for years.

He has a full time job, a successful marriage and he’s already finished his second novel (due out in Summer in case you’re interested). It’s all rather impressive. And here’s me struggling to publish 200 words of an evening. I had hoped to kick-start a habit; stop sitting on my hands like a cowardly could-be.

Michael McDermott’s song Great American Novel is about a girl who has lots of ideas, lots of self-belief, who “someday” is going to write the great American novel, but she never quite gets around to it. I worry sometimes whether, apart from the blue eyes and Britishnss, I’m that girl. Whether in years to come I’ll be nursing a glass proclaiming I could have been a contender.

But here I am at 10pm at night writing. It’s a start.

reLentless commuting: Day 13

•March 2, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Did you know that commuting makes you younger and more attractive?

Well, only from the perspective of our individual atoms:

But it’s still nice to know.

reLentless commuting: Day 12

•March 1, 2015 • Leave a Comment

I went to a piss up in a brewery on Friday night. I love beer.


The hosts got me on camera toasting the evening with a glass of 0% finest. That made up in tiny part for having to forego Kent’s amber gold.

It also gave me a chance to think about temptation.

Jesus spent his 40 days in the desert, far from people or things or breweries.  He faced up to 3 temptations and won. The devil on his shoulder is allegorical: representing the internal battle between will and willpower.

But Jesus too is allegorical. When tempted to use his magic powers to turn stones into bread, he responds with spiritual wisdom rather than considered thought. His temptations are beyond anything we earthly creatures experience.

Jesus is alone during his temptation. He isn’t burdened with the messy risks of his choices affecting the people he loves.

The story of Jesus’ temptation doesn’t teach us all that much about how to face those in our life. It, like the oft-quoted passage about love in 1 Corinthians, is not something we are expected to aspire to. It teaches us of God’s plans for us, of his love for us but it does not guide us through our own internal battles.

Taking 40 days out each year to consider those battles though, that’s hands-on experience.

reLentless commuting: Day 9

•February 26, 2015 • 1 Comment

dry january logoIn 2014, NHS staff took on the challenge of giving up alcohol in January as part of Alcohol Concern’s Dry January campaign.

Of those that took part:

  • 49% lost weight,
  • 62% slept better,
  • 79% saved money,
  • 62% had more energy, and
  • 58% reported a decrease in drinking days per week

The page that gives these stats doesn’t fully explain that final point, but I think it means that in the weeks after January, 58% of people were drinking fewer days than they had before doing Dry January.

Tonight I heard a talk by Emily from Alcohol Concern, talking about the history of the campaign and the impact of their social marketing. Unlike CRUK’s Dryathlon or Macmillan’s Sober October, which are first and foremost fundraising campaigns, Dry January is primarily about helping the British public to re-evaluate their relationship with alcohol. 

In 2012 there were 6,490 alcohol-related deaths here in England, a 19% increase compared to 2001 and more than 9 million people drink more than the recommended daily limits. I’m one of them.

Giving up alcohol for Lent is helping me re-evaluate my relationship with alcohol: from deciding to do it in the first place to taking each day one at a time.

This isn’t some dramatic confession of my being an alcoholic, thankfully I’m not, but I am a big drinker. I turn to alcohol when I’m celebrating and when I’m mourning, when I’ve had a bad day and when it’s Friday. I enjoy its taste, I enjoy how it makes me feel and knowing that I’ll feel like death warmed up the next morning is never a big enough incentive to stop.

But it’s not just me: as a society, we have an unhealthy relationship with alcohol in Britain. The seminar audience this evening made the comparison with our attitude to smoking: would campaigns like this eventually effect the equivalent of smoking bans and blank cigarette packets on how alcohol is sold and consumed? Or is it simply too socially acceptable to change?

It would save us money at both an individual level and across the whole NHS. However, like many of the messages surrounding climate change, it could be a long, slow road to reaping the benefits on a societal scale.

For me, I realise there could be benefits like losing some weight, saving some money, maybe even helping me wake up in the morning, although that would take a miracle. The biggest benefit will, I hope, be a reassessment of how I approach drinking. I intend to be one of the 58% above.

Maybe you would like to join me?

reLentless commuting: Day 7

•February 24, 2015 • Leave a Comment

I jointed a chicken tonight. During the process I became very aware that I was handling something that had once been alive.

It was a Nigel Slater recipe, so I like to think I did it justice.


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