You can never have too many discussions

Me reading my poem

The last month has been manic. We are still in the middle of the Jewish High Holy Days, which have taken large chunks out of the usual working week. Rosh Hashonah, the Jewish New Year landed during the first week of my University MA Course. That week also saw the launch of the Welcome to Leicester Poetry Anthology (see details below). I was one of the readers, performing my poem, Leicester Market 1963. I was rather tired by the end of that week. 

Last week was Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement. We fasted to ask for forgiveness for all our sins – another busy day, then! The fast was broken by a lovely meal with a group of old friends and lots of friendly chat and discussions; my kind of evening. The next morning I ran a meeting with the planning team of our Thinking Allowed monthly discussion group. The topic this month will be Why Trump? and inevitably there was much discussion during the planning process.

This week is Sukkot. People erect a temporary structure called a Sukkah in their garden and eat meals out there. It must have mainly leaves for a covering and I think you should be able to see at least one star through the roof. I was honoured to be invited to the Rabbi’s house to eat in their Sukka. It was a fascinating – if slightly chilly - evening with lots of in-depth discussions ranging from archaeological findings in Jerusalem to the meaning of beauty. You can never have too many discussion sessions. I was in my element.

In-between it all I’ve been trying to get to grips with the MA Course. One of the fascinating aspects of this Semester’s work is Research in Creative Writing, the study of the actual writing process; what goes on in my mind when I plan to write, get down to writing, rewriting. It’s a difficult concept to get a hold of because a lot of the planning and honing happens while I’m doing other things and often when I’m not even aware of it. Take this blog post for example:

I decided to relate the business of my month and to introduce this idea of researching creative writing. I am now sitting at the computer typing this with no pre-prepared notes and no plan to redraft (this was not the case. I redrafted a little). It’s more like a chat with you although I suspect the actual content has been percolating in my mind over night, having decided last night to write it. One of the problems with trying to study a subject like creative writing scientifically is that we are human beings and don’t perform well in laboratory conditions – but it is providing me with plenty of material to chat about. Like I said, you can never have too many discussions.

How would you analyse your creative writing process?

 

Poetry anthology, "Welcome to Leicester" is published by
Leicester-based Dahlia Publishing and was edited by
Emma Lee and Ambrose Musiyiwa.

Induction Day

An MA in Creative Writing? At my age? What would the other students think? What would they see when they looked at me? After a stern pep-talk from Daughter and a third outfit change I was ready to face them all.

On campus I was surrounded by students wearing red lanyards, bearing their plastic encoded ID. It was over 30 years since I had graduated from Leicester University. There were no plastic encoded cards in those days, never mind lanyards around people’s necks. Doors were opened with keys, metal ones, and our student ID card was just that, a card, folded into a booklet with our photograph stuck inside. I still have my old ones and have been known to use them as after-dinner entertainment. It was the hair. Year 1 shows me with straight, dare I say, boring hair. In Year 2 it had become a little more ruffled but by Year 3 I was sporting a full-blown, shoulder-length, curly perm, chestnut black with a hint of red.

Just the sight of all those red lanyards made me childishly enthusiastic at the thought of sporting my very own. The large hall in the Charles Wilson Building was set up as a temporary ID issue point. From the door I could see members of staff handing over lanyards with the regularity of a car production line but, as I entered the hall, I was stopped by a security guard.

“Can I help you, Madam?”

“I’ve come to collect my ID card.”

“You mean, you’re collecting one for somebody else?”

My eyes narrowed. “No, it’s for me.” I was trying to keep the anger from my voice.

“Oh!” he said. “How…”

“Don’t!” I snapped but he continued anyway.

“How very brave of you. Well done.”

I was lost for a suitably stinging retort.

“I’m doing an MA!” I barked as if that explained it all, as if there was anything that needed explaining. I thrust my head up and strode past him into the hall. I queued at the wrong desk and then, lanyard hanging awkwardly around my neck, tried to exit through the entrance door. It took a coffee, a strong one, for me to half-recover but I was still seething. I needed a good experience to end the day. Would I find it in the library?

I now had my seemingly endless reading list and I asked the librarian how many books I could take out. She checked my ID card and replied, but it was noisy in the reception area and, please remember, I’m not as young as I was.

“Pardon?” I said. “Did you say 14 books?”

“No,” she grinned. “I said 40.”

Forty books! A perfect end to an almost perfect day. MA in Creative Writing? I’m ready for you now.

Lazy August

So many red flowers in the garden this month. They seem to be reflecting my mood, lazy and languid. Only the bee in the bottom photo is doing any work:

Hope you're having a great August holiday time. September will be the start of a fresh academic year and a new adventure for me, but I'll talk more about that next month...

Richard III in stained glass...

...and highly detailed pictures


When I was a child I always took a book to bed with me. I didn't always read the words. Sometimes I just looked at the pictures. There was one book in particular, British Wild Flowers, that was a favourite. I still have the book. It has a green hardback cover and colour plates every few pages.

In those days books were mainly black and white. Colour pages were printed on a different paper and, I suspect, expensive to reproduce. I would turn to one of these colour plates and examine it in minute detail. I don't remember ever putting the book down so it must have been a most effective method of lulling myself to sleep.

This was one of the pages that helped me enjoy many a peaceful night:

On a completely different subject but still talking about detailed pictures, Daughter came to visit this week and we went to Leicester Cathedral to see Richard III's tomb - she couldn't come to Leicester without seeing it, now could she!

Two new stained glass windows have appeared since I last visited the Cathedral. They are designed by Thomas Denny and are on the wall beside the tomb. They depict all aspects of Richard III's life, death and subsequent rediscovery. These photographs don't do them justice. Just like my colour photos from my old nature book, these are the kind of windows that, no matter how many times you look at them, you keep seeing new things.

(Thanks to Hilary Melton-Butcher from Positive Letters ... Inspirational Stories for cropped versions of the following photographs. I was having trouble editing them and she came to my rescue.)

Do you have any favourite pictures or photos that can be looked at an infinite number of times and each time new things jump out at you?

An Ode to a Satnav

It's holiday time and I've been out and about, driving through London and half way across the country. Thanks to my satnav I didn't get lost once so, with tongue firmly in cheek, this is my...

Ode to a Satnav

We used to use maps to find out where we are.
Now we plug in our satnav instead.
We don't find which way's North by locating a star.
I'm afraid that map reading is dead.

But you can't trust a voice from inside a machine
that says, 'make a U turn' all the time,
then it takes a short cut leading into a stream
and you're up to your big ends in slime.

I would say, 'ditch the satnav. Go back to the map.'
But I know that I won't follow suit,
cause my satnav's called Sean. He's a clever young chap
and, between you and me, rather cute.

East Meets West - A Richard III Extravaganza

We have created a Richard III extravaganza. Last week we gave our first performance as part of Leicester's ArtBeat Festival and I'm delighted to say that it was very well received.

Nimisha Parmer showed us the story of the Battle of Bosworth using the ancient Indian dance style of Bharat Natyan. Her son, Aayush, accompanied her on the drums.

I took to the floor next, performing a rather tongue-in-cheek interview between a modern day reporter and the Witch of Daneshill. It's all in my book if you'd like to buy one - The Children's Book of Richard III. I went on to explain how a King's body came to be under a car park in Leicester.

Me playing the part of the Witch of Daneshill

Our grand finale was Richard Buckley, head of Archaeology at Leicester University, the man who led the dig that discovered Richard III's body. He gave us a fascinating insight into what the dig was like and then produced a 'King' in full period armour with sword, dagger, halberd, the lot. It was not only the kids who were excited. We were all fascinated by this King-cum-knight in almost shiny armour.

Richard Buckley on the left with a halberd

Richard Buckley demonstrating how a dagger was thrust through Richard III's skull
(as you can see he didn't really do it!)

There are plans for repeat performances so if you missed this one then watch this space for the announcement of our next Richard III extravaganza.

Three Free Things...

…or free free fings if said very quickly.

A few weeks ago I was meeting Daughter at St Pancras (our usual meeting point these days) and I stopped for a minute to watch people using the free pianos. There are three of them spaced out along the concourse and they all seem to be permanently in use.

That day a man was playing a lovely piece of music when a mother with a small child stopped to watch. The child’s mouth was open in amazement. The piano player invited the child to have a go. She touched the keys tentatively. Then he played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. The expression on that child’s face was priceless. He may have created the start of a lifelong passion and all from a free piano.

It made me think about what other free facilities we have available to us these days. Yes, there are the parks, flower beds and occasional fountains but you can’t do anything other than look at those. I mean things to interact with. A few days later a walk on the local park with the Grandkids reminded me of two more free things.

Many local parks now have fitness equipment for use by anyone at any time. What a brilliant idea.

You may have noticed from the picture above that, although it was a lovely warm afternoon, the equipment was not actually being used. Never mind. It's there for when people fancy it. Maybe first thing in the morning there are queues for each item.

The third free thing was being so well used at the park that I couldn't take a photo for fear of upsetting people. That is the table tennis table. Yet another brilliant idea and one of these days I shall go down there with a table tennis ball and have a go. Anyone fancy a game?

My cats can plan and plot

I bet you think that cats can’t plan or plot together. That’s what I thought until last week when the grandkids came to visit.

My cats, Charlie and Mabel, are terrified of visitors, especially children. They disappear down the end of the garden as soon as they hear children's voices so I thought it would be fine when the grandkids asked if they could bring their new dog for a visit.

Just before they were due to arrive I made sure the cats had eaten and were in the garden. They had extra food and water in the greenhouse and would be able to spend the day out there. But things did not go as planned.

As soon as we sat in the conservatory, Charlie arrived at the window. She spent a good half an hour motionless, staring at the dog. It drove the dog crazy. She barked and threw herself at the window, kamikaze style. All the time Charlie sat without even moving a whisker.

When Charlie got tired of the dog-taunting game she strolled away down the garden.

“I bet she’s going to tell Mabel,” I said and the grandkids laughed politely, in a kind of 'grandmas are silly' way. However, less than a minute later Mabel was at the window doing exactly the same as Charlie had done, taunting the poor dog. Mabel is never normally seen by visitors, ever! When she tired of the dog-taunting game, Charlie took over once more.

Now tell me that cats can’t plan and plot together.

It’s good to talk...

...but bad to be indecisive

It all began when a few of us felt that we needed something to keep our brains active. We thought it might be a good idea to organise a monthly discussion group but we didn’t know if it would work, if there would be any interest in it or even if we were up to the job. After much indecision we agreed that the only way to find out was to try.

That was over a year ago. The group has gone from strength to strength. We meet in the local Synagogue Hall. Everyone we know is invited to join us and I’m delighted to say that people are turning up regularly. The group is called Thinking Allowed (with apologies to Radio 4's Laurie Taylor) because it seems to accurately describe what we do. We have covered a wide range of topics, from the effects of superstition on our actions to the role of music in our lives to the influence of the Internet. This month’s topic was, inevitably, the EU referendum. I thought people would groan and stay away but no. The discussion was as animated and enthusiastic as ever. (For those who are interested, we held our very own secret ballot at the end of the discussion and the result was overwhelmingly in favour of staying in.) 

These discussions don’t run themselves. We meet a few weeks before each session to plan arguments for and against our topic, create a list of bullet points so that the chairperson - we take it in turns in the chair - can move the discussion on if necessary. (Sometimes we have a more in-depth discussion at these planning meetings than at the real thing but that’s another story.) Then there’s the hall to arrange, the advertising of each month's meeting, the cake, biscuits, tea, coffee, milk etc to buy. One day I suspect we will run out of topics, energy and drive for all this but for now it’s a regular feature in our diaries and I, for one, am glad we took the plunge. 

Have you been unsure about organising something and then been pleased that you did? Or are you still indecisive? And if you are then might I politely suggest you give it a try. What have you got to lose?

Painting Wells

It never crossed my mind that there was a reason why Wells is called Wells. I now know. It is because there are a lot of wells there, too many to paint. I say that, because I have just returned from a week's water colour painting in Wells. It was an organised holiday based at The Swan Hotel overlooking the amazing Wells Cathedral.

I was looking forward to a restful week, dabbing paintbrush into pallet and contemplating beautiful views. Wrong! It was a full-on, 9.30 to 5 pm, packed programme. It was enjoyable, inspirational, instructional but relaxing? No way!

I am no expert at art and so I won't be sharing any of my 'masterpieces' with you but I will share a photo from the hotel of Wells Cathedral and some info about the holiday in case you fancy having a go too...

The holiday was organised by Alpha Painting Holidays. We were very well taken care of by Jill from Alpha, who brought us teas, coffees, packed lunches and anything else that we might need.

The tutor was the very talented Rob Dudley.  He was equally attentive to our painting needs - in other words he was extremely patient with the likes of me, a virtual non-painter, and was encouraging and positive in spite of my many abortive efforts.

The only disappointment was the catering arrangements at the hotel. They couldn't serve us supper until 8 pm and, after a full day of fresh air and concentration, I was ready for bed even before they got around to serving up the soup course.

OK, OK, I'll include one of my efforts... but NOT my water colour attempts. Here is a bit of a pencil sketch of a gatehouse by the Cathedral gardens. 

Well I did warn you! Best to stick with my writing, methinks!

Lost life stories

Every life has a story to tell. We can’t all talk of major achievements, life-saving inventions or headline-making discoveries, but we all have our own unique story. Several years ago, when I set out to research the ‘lives behind the stones’ in the local Jewish cemetery, I was not looking for the big names. I wanted to know about the lives of the ordinary people, people like myself.

Regular visitors to this blog will remember me talking about this Heritage Lottery funded project that I coordinated in 2014/15. We created a website with information about Leicester's Jewish cemetery and a complete database of the graves providing a genealogical search facility. The website is testament to my team’s commitment and hard work and I am proud of what we created.
(Apologies if you’ve had trouble recently accessing the Jewish Gilroes project website. It has been undergoing routine maintenance but I have been reassured that it's fully functioning once more.)

I do regret that we only had time to research nineteen stories. We were not even able to recount entire life stories, but mere snapshots of those nineteen lives. So much has not been told and there are about a thousand graves in the cemetery, so there are more than 900 lives yet, if ever, to reveal their stories. Maybe some were refugees from Eastern Europe in the early 1900s or descendants of refugees. Others may have come later in the 20^th century from Germany. They would possibly have been evacuated to Leicester during the Blitz. They must have experienced so much that I will never know about because now their lives have been lost behind the brief descriptions on their headstones.

On the left is the headstone for the very first burial in the cemetery. It marks the grave of a young girl called Nina Rosina Berger who died aged 13. We could find very little about her short life but there was information to be uncovered regarding her family. A small group of us put together our findings and this is the story that I was able to write up for the website. Nina Rosina Berger.

Looking to the more distant past, apart from a few exceptions, only the lives of Kings and Queens, their Chancellors and Priests were recorded. I want to know what the ordinary people did. I want to know about their daily lives, worries, joys, habits. If only they had been literate, with their own blogs and Twitter accounts, think how much more we would know about life in days gone by… or would we be bogged down with their daily recounting of what they had for breakfast and what the weather was like?

From football to matzo balls

STOP PRESS: 

Tuesday 3rd May - Leicester have won the League! We are the Champions. I may not be an avid football fan but I'm feeling pretty proud of Leicester this morning.

Football
What I know about football could be written on the side of a matzo ball (matzo balls are small dumplings for soup) but I have noticed that there's a lot of excitement around Leicester's King Power Stadium over the last few weeks. It would seem that at the beginning of this season Leicester were no hopers, and now they are almost winners of the League. I don't exactly know which League this refers to but I do know that a lot of people are very excited about it.

This Friday Leicester will be turning blue as a show of support. There will be blue banners, blue balloons, blue cakes in shops and blue jerseys everywhere. There will even be a blue strip tease posted up by Walkers Crisps. They will be removing packets of crisps from an apparently naked Gary Lineker in their Countdown to Kit Off.

As I understand it, this Sunday's game could be the clincher. Televisions will be tuned in to Sky Sport. The streets of Leicester will be silent. I may take advantage of the situation and go shopping.

Matzo
We are in the middle of the eight days of the Jewish Passover. I've blogged about the story that must be retold each year, the story of slaves escaping Egypt, of freedom and the ending of oppression here. Those first two nights, when we have the Seder meal and retell that story, are special. Not only do we get to share a meal with family and friends, we also share our well-rehearsed traditions and songs. It's the kind of communal activity that I love.

But what of the rest of the week? Eating matzo in place of bread is tough. Every year I'm reminded of how much wheat-based food I usually consume. As well as bread, there's pasta, pizza, scones, fruit loaf, the list appears to be endless. Just as too much matzo has its unpleasant effects on the body, so too must all that wheat. Maybe this year, after the Passover, I'll stick to my promise to myself and cut down on the wheat. It can only do me good.

Happy Passover. Happy football viewing and good luck to Leicester City.

A Magnificent Magnolia

A magnificent magnolia flower

A lovely gift from a lovely friend

Fresh white petals brightening up a dark corner

A sign that summer is not far away