Sunday, 24 June 2012

'...yuh never know whatcha gonna get!' is too short to dwell on things that don't 'work'!

I've become quite disenchanted with writing recently. The desire isn't there in the same way. Deadlines have come and gone and although I've had 'ideas' (too many, actually!) setting aside time to create something that others might like to read is becoming increasingly difficult. Coupled with this is the sense that it is just way too hard to get anything published these days - and I won't go down the route of self-publishing! It may work for some people, but I just don't have the energy to jump up and down shouting 'READ MY STUFF' every five minutes on Facebook and/or Twitter. (sorry - I've had to 'mute' a few people!)

And, seriously - if I've spent a lot of time and effort crafting something I can't see the point of selling it at 99p a throw! (or even for free!) True, some say you have to do that to get your work read and 'grow' a following; but once it's out 'there' and available it can never be considered by regular publishing houses at a later stage, should you finally hit the jackpot and sign a contract! (that's my understanding, anyway) Plus, there is so much poorly/un-edited stuff out there in self-publishing-land (once called 'vanity publishing') that your work may be swamped in the dross, anyway!

Even getting people to read AND comment on blogs is often difficult enough! So, I'm calling a halt for a while. That doesn't mean I shan't be blogging here anymore; rather it means that I'll be spending a bit more time over at my alter-ego, The Knitting Assassin! blog. There is something fulfilling about creating things that are pretty as well as useful - and to my eclectic mind, it's nice to ring the changes now and then.

I'll still be adding the odd posts here at IRTGQ - they'll be eclectic and odd things that strike me, like a Forrest Gump-style box of choc'lits - 'yuh never know whatcha gonna get!'   ....hence the piccie for this post!   ;-)

But feel free, do drop by to any of my blogs (links under the header, up at the top of this page). I ask only one thing - PLEASE leave a 'calling card' (comment) so I know who's visited! I like to get back to folks if they've been gracious enough to air their views!

Catch you around, chaps! (and chapesses!)

Sunday, 17 June 2012

Dear Old Dad!

Wedding Day, 27th April, 1942

Father's Day always brings a mixture of mirth and melancholy - but thankfully the happy memories of yesteryear compensate for the sense of loss.

My Dad died 24 years ago but occasionally I'll see a face on TV (Fraser from 'Dad's Army', for instance) or a turn of phrase or mention of a place will remind me of the wonderful father I had.

The more I think back and discover about him, the more a smile comes to my lips! He was one of those people who could turn his hand to most things around the home - mainly because the family budget would preclude getting in a 'professional' to do a job. (although he drew the line at more than the basics, where electricity and plumbing were concerned!)

As the youngest child (by several years) I was often left behind when my older siblings were allowed to go out and about with their friends, so I spent a lot of time following my Dad around and being his 'little helper'! Thus, even in my childhood,  I learned to hang wallpaper, paint, do simple renovation jobs, etc. It still comes in useful, now, with the current recession and frugality!

Dad was the person from whom I mostly learned about sacrifice, duty and care; although I didn't realise this until much later in life. When I was just four years old my mother, who had apparently not really been well since my birth, was diagnosed with a wasting illness which at the time had the doctors bewildered. My father was told to take her home as there was nothing that could be done and their prognosis was that she had, at best, a year to live.

I never heard that tale, until the night before she died, fourteen years later. In the intervening years she had oscillated in and out of remission, from what was finally diagnosed to be Multiple Sclerosis. So, Dad had shouldered most of the household tasks as well as being main breadwinner for three children under twelve years of age. That didn't leave a lot of time for hobbies or pastimes - or any ambitions he might have had.

I never knew what it was like to grow up with an able-bodied Mum - in my recollection she always walked slowly and with at least one stick; she couldn't knit or play the piano as she had done in her youth, or play tennis and swim. But she never lost her sense of humour and was prone to playing the odd practical joke on my Dad, so I suppose one of the sounds that brings back memories of my Dad is laughter.

And although they weren't the sort to show a lot of affection in public, like hugs and kisses, an abiding image I have is of Dad helping my Mum to retain some semblance of femininity by dealing with leg-hair removal, or putting a colour rinse on her hair when he washed it for her.

It was only as my Dad's own life drew to a close, many years later, that I realised there were secrets he had hidden from us. A 'death bed' confession (while hospitalised and sinking fast) revealed he was not the man we had presumed!

It turned out he had been living under an assumed name for 40+ years and his imminent demise was pricking his conscience as he was worried if we three children were all legally married, given we'd also shared his 'false' identity by virtue of our erroneous birth certificates!

Apparently, as a youth in the 1930's, he and some friends had travelled into Glasgow to go to the cinema. Having used their return bus fare on fish and chips for their supper, one of the lads had found an 'unattended' truck which they'd all piled into and were just making their way home when they were stopped by a policemen. Having lined the lads up, said policeman proceeded to take down all their names. Dad, fearing his own father's wrath for bringing the family into disrepute, glanced up at the sign above the shop he was standing in front of and took the proprietor's surname as his new identity - he went from John Carson to Alan MacGregor in an instant. Unfortunately, it didn't end there!

At that time , in Scotland, the local police station also housed magistrate's powers so the lads were marched off to face the 'beak'! Their options were simple: admit the crime and gain a criminal record, or sign up for military service. Dad chose the latter and thus he was 'officially' registered with his newly acquired identity.

It wasn't until nearly 40-odd years later, after he retired, that he made plans to formally change his name legally by deed poll. We might never have known the tale, if he'd died suddenly, but he recovered from his illness and went on to live a further 18 months.

At the time, when I was told, I just burst out laughing! Less so my brother, who now realised he'd named his firstborn son after a fictitious character! After the hilarity of the situation had died down I felt a sense of sadness as I realised how my Dad had carried that secret all those years, unable to share it for fear it would disrupt the family. (and to this day, I'm not even sure my mother knew the whole truth; their marriage certificate bears Dad's and his own father's fraudulent names!)

But I don't dwell on the negative so much - it was just one of those funny tales that make up my Dad - too many to tell here, I'm afraid!

Happy Father's Day,  Dad!
(and I'm still laffin'!)

(and maybe one day I'll have to see if there's any evidence of  'MacGregor's Ironmongers' in Glasgow - fancy walking into their shop with the tale I'd have to tell! ;-p)

Sunday, 10 June 2012


I wish the little voices in my head would shut up for a while....!

No, I'm not completely off my rocker - the little voices I'm referring to are the ideas for stories; the odd turn of phrase that suggests something more; the 'what if...' situations where history might have taken a very different turn......

I once said that the up-side of an eclectic mind is that you are rarely bored; the down-side is that you often have more ideas than you can successfully grapple with!

Well, I'm finding it seriously difficult to settle at anything lately, so it's probably just as well that the only writing I've done recently have been short pieces of flash fiction. 

Meanwhile, I think I shall have to carry a pad and pencil with me to jot down all the ideas as they shunt through my brain - who knows, they might actually come to something!

Do other people have this problem....?

Sunday, 3 June 2012


Well, it may have rained on her parade (or rather, water-pageant!) but bless her, HM Queen Elizabeth kept smiling!

In fact, for an octogenarian standing in the unseasonably cold weather for hours, even if she would rather have been back at the palace sipping a cup of tea (or even a gin & tonic!) that smile embodied the spirit of Britain - keep calm and carry on!

.....and on they certainly came; boats and ships in every shape and size, steam powered, coal powered. diesel powered - and even human-powered - processing along the Thames to honour our 'Diamond Queen'!

The Diamond Jubilee is something of a spectacular celebration, commemorating sixty years on the throne. We shall not see it's like again in our lifetimes, possibly our children's too.

We didn't join the crowds in London but, as a family, we watched the TV coverage from the comfort of our lounge and indulged in a quintessentially British feast of scones with jam and clotted cream - washed down with 'Jubilee' tea, in my case consumed in my Union Flag mug! ;-)

It was wonderful to see Tower Bridge raised to it's full extent in tribute to the monarch aboard her special barge - and the crowds cheered her on through the rain! (the dissenters were there, too - thankfully their 'anti-royalty'  protest made little, if any, impact.)

Our Monarchy may not be perfect (and I believe it would do well with a little judicious pruning of the 'hangers-on'!) but Queen Elizabeth II stands firm and resolute - duty to her role and her people over-riding her own wishes. In this day and age, that is a rare quality, indeed!

Cheers, Ma'am! Long may you reign!