Category Archives: Taking stock

Taking stock

So, how you been? It’s been a while.

Way, way too long.

You’ve been on my mind. This blog, the readership. I know you’re out there. Somewhere, in the vast and varied echelons of the cyber universe.

I’m sorry.

I’ve not not been around as much as I could have been, or should have been. I can’t remember the last time that I sat here and typed up a post. There are number of reasons for that.

The one I always state. That life got busy. Well, that still stands.

I teach, I practice as counsellor. I write books. It has been a while since there was any gardening.

Today, I sat here and thought. You know what, Iet’s do a blog post. Before I get inky fingers, and do some writing. There’s a book to finish.

Teaching, counselling, and writing have in fluid quantities been three central themes of my life over the last year. Teaching is busy; colliding with counselling as a vocation. The counselling practice thrives; it’s going from strength to strength. That leaves writing.

I’ve had two creative projects simmering away over the last year.

One. was the development of a screenplay. For a short film. The cast was found, there is a whole crew behind it. It was a year this monday just gone, that I found my leading man. We’re on the cusp, of completing the filming process. This has been a learning curve! Especially, with a pandemic! I had learn how to write a screen play, adapt my own story. The one in question is Devan Coultrie is Unwell. A short story from Postcards from Peace: A Peace Series collection. I am also directing, so this really has been something. I can’t share much at the moment. Only that seeing the leading man become Devan, was a mind-blowing. Seeing the leading lady, become Aditi was the same. To work with two talented Make Up Artists, a Director of Photography who really knows his stuff.

We have to finish filming and then editing will happen. I have been blown away by the entire process. It has been an interesting process of skill acquisition and development. I’ve never thought and in a million years, that I would be a director. I still might not be! This isn’t finished yet.

There aren’t many British, Female Directors out there, of South Asian Ascent. I can name, one? So that makes this feel a bigger deal.

The second project, is no longer so new. Behind the Scenes has been out for a year. A collection of flash fiction, some short stories; a zombie apocalypse novelette. All of which is set in, inspired by Birmingham. Most of which, was written during lockdown.

As I step away from this blog post, I’m going to try and tackle the next creative project. I’ve been writing it since April, and I am trying to get it towards the end. This is best described as doomed romance. More on that, as it happens.

Hold up, wait. I need to to tell you about dragons. I got this far, and forgot to tell you about dragons. I’ve written another novelette. Again, set in, inspired by Birmingham. And there are dragons involved. There will be more on this later too!

Dragon Realm

A city of a thousand trades. Birmingham is busy and bustles. Everyday people go about their everyday business. Yet, there is something that lives within Birmingham. Something far more magic, than a city is mundane.

Brian is on the night bus, when he hears a voice call to him from the dark. Dave and his Lady Eleanor have a far from normal day on the canals. Linus and Gary might be friends on opposite football teams, but when half-time comes they have something in common.

Dale goes out for a Balti, and gets more than his dinner. A romance reader catches the attention of Eloise whilst in the city library.

A few people of Birmingham are sought out to do something special. To act as guardians to rather mysterious packages.

Allotment Challenge, Preparation, Taking stock

reclamation: return

This a really strange post to write. Has certainly been on my mind a great deal; all meshed with assorted feelings. There’s sadness, guilt; frustration and pain too. I wasn’t sure about sharing this, and that comes back to that horrible feeling of shame. Allotment shame.

It’s been hanging around me for a while. A horrible grey-green cloud, that has been really unshakeable.

For the last couple of years, I’ve struggled-there, I’ve said it-to get a grip with the allotment. My attention, my focus was divided by other things. My time, has been used up by other activities. So I’ve been disconnected from my allotment, pulled in other directions. I know that I’ve grumbled and mumbled, that I’ll come back and things. It felt weird.

So last week, I feel that burgeoning sadness tip over a bit. I was overwhelmed and annoyed by comments made by others. Comments that really made me feel sad, feel hurt. Feel judged too.

I had my own process. Whether it is stubbornness, I don’t know. Giving it up, is not on my radar.

I’ve seen my allotment blossom, bloom and be productive. It has been an oasis of calm. It was fruitful. There was so much that I took from the allotment, that I put into it. It’s difficult for me to be specific, and describe that connection. It is part of me, makes me who I am. It would be wrenching to leave it aside.

So I’ve been chewing over posting. I’ve not posted in a while, and it has mainly been about books. Making me feel a little disconnected and disconnected, from the gardening universe. There is a lot in this blog, that has come from the allotment. Given as to why I started it, and why it was read. I guess I ‘m recalibrating as I reclaim, or try to reclaim, the plot. It does feel overwhelming. I have a lot to do, I have a lot of space! That and I’ve had help in making a dent with it. I had two very willing family members give me their time and energy.

There is a time and a space forming in my world and life, where this allotment needs love. I need to love it, to be me again. I need to carve out that space that being on an allotment involves. That which nurtures me, and helps me grow.

It’s weird writing this post. As though writing or calling an old friend, who has been absent for a while. To restore a meaningful connection to something profoundly valuable. I don’t quite know where to start, how I feel or where I want to go, to be honest.

Allotment Challenge, Books, roses, Taking stock

Behind the Scenes: A book and beyond

 

Well, hello, everyone. It’s been a while. In fact, it’s been a very long while.

Over the last few days, the blog has been on my mind a great deal.

The last time that I checked in, I had been spending a great deal of time of the allotment. The weather was good; Britain was not only in the grip of a pandemic, but also a heatwave. I was able to go to the plot, and do a fair bit. I had dug over the beds, and even sown seeds.

Then life became busy, with my counselling practice and teaching. It has been a very fast, very busy ten weeks and my feet have bare touched the ground.

So, this week, I am playing catch up.  I am also trying to have a rest, by shifting down a gear. I am trying to get some semblance of balance. I did have a fair dose of allotment guilt; a lot of sadness, actually. I popped down to the plot, to see how the plot had changed and to cut some roses. This, in itself, was a very grounding process. I even found some tomatoes. This was much needed. A bit of pottering, smelling the roses, to become grounded.

Social distancing still exists, and quite rightly so. And when not able to go the plot-there has been that much rain, when the sun isn’t shining. I’ve been otherwise occupied, beyond working and counselling.

Socks.

Yes, at the beginning of lockdown, I learned how to knit socks. I started with flat needles, and have since graduated to circular needles. These, I do believe, make the process, easier. It is also a lovely opportunity to relax, experience mindfulness. To ground myself, and do something that isn’t energetically demanding; is wonderfully calming and therapeutic. As such, I now have four pairs of needles with as many cast on socks. As you can see, this are not boring socks. Colourful and comfy, I’m really very proud of my creations. I have enough wool now, to be really quite busy. It is really quite easy, to be seduced by pretty yarn. And the socks are all mine; there is no one to inflict them upon.

Talking of creations. There is a new writing project on the desk. All being well, that will be released next year. This has already spent a year in the pipeline, and is very different to what I’ve already written. A series of short stories, all inspired by the City of Birmingham. You’ll have to watch this space, for further details.

Preparation, Taking stock

Overcoming Allotment shame

Bear with me, I have allotment ouchies.

I’m sat here, thinking about each and every muscle twang. When I walk, I am slow; even my baby toes throb in protest.

Yesterday and today, I have spent time on the allotment. All within the Social Distancing guidelines, I assure you.

Time that has been long over due. The Lockdown, has brought with it a new lens through which the world can be seen. Life has definitely changed.

Over the last seven weeks.  I have spent most of my days at my desk. I have taught from my desk. I counsel from desk too.  I have found it challenging to go out, beyond to the supermarket, to get fresh air, to get exercise. To ground myself, I guess. Brief windows in teaching and counselling have meant popping out into the garden, sniffing the camellias whilst nursing a cuppa before going back to work.

Something changed this week. I had enough, and made a change. I made the decision to step away from my desk, to be there only for teaching and counselling and go to the allotment.

(I’ve also had a laptop crisis; there had to be a very panicked repair. I hadn’t back it up, so this bit is genuinely Mea Culpa. Years of allotment images have been wiped as it went for repair. I’m okay with it; saddened and angry, but I look forward to taking new photos, making new allotment memories.)

(I’m not sat at my desk, writing this.)

 

me

For the last two months, I have been turning things over in my head. Why haven’t I gone, other than being busy?

This is where the counselling training starts to illuminate things.

I love my allotment, it’s been epic. It has been productive, there has been plot produce, and untold joy at so much. So when life got busy. and my time on the plot become less, there was a disconnect. I’ve been saying for a long time, that I would go back.

Alas, it was all very overwhelming. There have been many attempts weed, cover, potter. Nothing felt right. Nothing, felt connected or grounding. It was all very overwhelming; it still is, sat here writing.

And yet today, I have allotment ouchies.

I have spent today, yesterday, digging over raised beds. Raised beds,  I have a few.  Nine. Nine raised beds have had weed coverage pulled away, put into another bed to form a lasagne bed. There are two beds, that need faffing around with. There has been an abundance of apple blossom on the plot. The Braeburn apple tree, has been propped up as it bends over backwards. There is a promise of a bumper harvest.

I wandered through my rose bushes, tying in, typing up as I anticipate bouquets. Bouquets that right now, sound and feel like a Hallelujah Chorus in the distance.

 

My spade was picked up; I hate digging. But damn, my spade is good. It cuts through heavy clay like a hot knife through butter. Nine beds were turned over, clods broken up. I was something of a woman possessed really. Today, I’ve certainly been in second gear, rather than fifth. I took my time today.

I now have bare earth to play with. I’ve yet to sow any seeds, or find plants. That is going to be on my mind, my agenda in the next week or so. Last year, I grew a small gang of chillies. I’ve yet to sow a single seed. I’d quite like to sow some tomatoes, but it might be a little late.

So how does the title of this post fit?

There’s been incongruence, fear and a shame at having let the plot slide.

And I didn’t want to feel that way any longer. The plot is in my hands, I have the power to change it.

All those conditions of worth; the feeling that my plot wasn’t good enough. The introjects, of what a good plot should be. The slightly askew locus of evaluation, that the plot wasn’t in my hands. There has been overwhelming fear to not share the plot, to take anyone there or to even speak about it to anyone.

Here’s to change and having autonomy to do what I can.

I’m lucky, that for the most part, I have supportive allotment neighbours. There is the odd comment, which can be barbed. At times, that has hurt, cheesed me off and compounded not being able to do anything. There has been sadness, wounding pain at pitiful looks and comments that could only be politely ignored for some time.

There was joyfulness in what I’ve been doing. All right, sweaty, dirty and dehydrating, but I felt good doing it. I had, have, a plan. I need to, want to plan things into those beds. I’ve rummaged in my loldean timber seedbox, to find some bits and pieces. A few dwarf beans have been direct sown, some spinach and chard broadcast sown. This is all very tentative, I have no idea if that will work. It’s been a very long time since I’ve done that.

It was possible, for me to reconnect with the allotment plot.  I had my headphones on, my water bottle. To be honest, I put my head down, and did what I had to do. I don’t compare my plot to those of others; I never have. I like that it’s different, that it’s mine and I do what I can with it.

I also know what has been. How it took shape, all the hard work that has gone into it. All the goodness that has come from it.

I shall take the small victories, of having dug over raised beds.

Even if I am going to creak for days…..

Taking stock, Uncategorized

Chatting with @TheOrdKnitter

You may have read the post about socks; how I’ve learned how to knit them.

I wouldn’t have got that far without a little help from my friends, not to mention a book of patterns.

Well, I was kindly invited by The Ordinary Knitter, Heather, to share my experiences of knitting socks on flat needles.

I’d asked Heather for some advice on how to start, and she was great in walking me through a pattern.

You can hear the full podcast with Heather here.

 

socks

These are my current projects. Two stripy pairs for me. An experimental Dad  sock, and even one on a pair of circular needles. These, are the ones that I still need to reflect upon a bit further.

 

The book that I’ve used is by Alice Curtis Knit your socks on Straight.

gardening and mental health, mental health/mindfulness, socially distant growing, Taking stock, Uncategorized

To get growing

At this moment in time, there is a lot of seed sowing. The current situation, has inspired, challenged, encouraged people to start gardening. This might be growing your own food, sorting out the dahlias, or just rejuvenating your green space.

Gardening, has certainly struck a cord with people.

As such, I’ve been thinking about this blog. About how I started just over a decade ago, with containers in Dad’s garden. I started gardening, growing food through a combination of sheer fluke and curiosity.  Everything was an experiment.

It was also to help mental health at the time. I’d just come to the end of my initial teacher training, and was unlikely to be employed by the end of Summer. There was sadness, anxiety and uncertainty that experimenting with seed sowing could be alleviating.

Ten and bit years later, the change in the universe is global.

I started with cherry tomatoes, chilli plants. I found runner beans and even a Butternut squash plant that I called Gladys. We have Kevin the aubergine too.

That was an interesting summer, in 2009. We had a heatwave, and this led to a bumper crop of cayenne chillies.

I remember going to Wilkos, to Poundland, to get my supplies.

At this moment in time, that is impossible. There are DIY stores, but I’m not for one moment, encouraging non-essential travel. There are also online outlets, who are doing their best to support customers. Again, I advise caution, as businesses do the best that they can.

For my part, I have an allotment, that I can access sparingly to tidy up. I’ve yet to sow anything.

That doesn’t mean that I can’t offer support; especially with all the content on the blog. I wrote it, for that very job! To help others, perhaps share my mistakes so others would avoid them.

(There are also two books on the side bar, but that is not an advert.)

Gardening has the potential to bring great joy, stability, focus and so many other things. I know that it means a great deal to me. All being well, you may find something on the blog that also helps.

Taking stock

Apple and Socks…

I forget which week we’re on, but the lock-down measures remain in place. All for good reason; safety is paramount.

This week, has been about reflecting, about getting my hands dirty and also learning new skills.

The allotment has been on my mind a great deal. There is a lot to do, the plot has been left unloved for sometime. This, does feel rather overwhelming, as I have mentioned before. As such, I want to do little bits at a time, as much as I can.

I have an apple tree on the plot. In fact I have two. One is a Falstaff, the other is Braeburn. Both are currently in beautiful bloom with lovely pink and red blossom. The Falstaff is safe, secure, growing well. The Braeburn on the other hand, would be eight foot tall. However, due to storm damage,and not being staked properly, it is now growing bent over backwards, much like a fictional Japanese willow over a stream. I spent some time this week, propping it up. There was no way, no how, it was going to snap up straight. It is actually wonderfully well established, and happy too. I’ve never seen so much apple blossom on one tree. So rather than work against the tree, I want to work with it.

That was fun. Apart from falling over a raised bed and getting bruises.

Bruises, which didn’t help shoulder strain.

And where did I get shoulder strain from?

Well. Knitting.

I’ve been knitting for ages. Never purposefully though, and never actually finishing anything. So when a colleague told me about her sock knitting, with a member of the ‘Grape Gardening Family’ signposting me towards a book for knitting with flat needles, I had a ‘oh, yes?’ moment.

Two weeks, were spent, in between teaching and counselling, knitting like there was no tomorrow. I kid you not. I had the same brain fury that happens when I have a writing project that is all consuming. I pull the same thinking face too.

Flat needles. I’ve always knitted with these. I do have some circular needles, but they are still a bit abstract; I’ve yet to wrap my head around those. I don’t use DPNs-double pointed needles. That would also be a stretch of the visuo-spatial sketchpad.

Immersed and enthusiastic. I sprained my arm. There was three days sulking, and I have resumed knitting. I will also venture back to the plot too, at some point.

The socks, a pair, were completed. Yes, they are wonky, with one bigger than the other. But I have a pair of socks! Two weeks ago, I couldn’t read patterns, never mind knit socks.

(Yeah, Mama F has been helping too. I sat elbow to elbow with her, explaining the pattern. She’s a much more proficient knitter and crocheter than me, she can knit with her eyes closed. Doesn’t ever use patterns. But socks were new. She has since knitted a beautiful pair, that really are a piece of art.)

I’m really very proud of my wonky socks, and I have three more experimental ones in my needles. I’m using a mixture of bamboo and metal needles. The bamboo are less heavier, more warmer. Smaller metal needles do help with precision and better fitter socks.

 

 

 

 

 

Taking stock, Uncategorized

Uncharted Territory

You really couldn’t make this up. I certainly couldn’t.

Write that the world is a-grip with fear, that a pandemic is in action.

Well, I’m sure someone did, that it was written some place.

The last week, has been weird, strangely disorientating.

I’ve been glued to the news, trying to understand. Trying to make sense of things in a clear and coherent way. All around me, the world is changing.

All of the books events that I was scheduled to attend, have been cancelled and postponed.  This does mean I have a stack of books to sell, all requiring good homes. Get in touch, I will waive postage! There is the contact form, somewhere. Those books might help, if we are going to be stuck in doors for a bit. You can also download them, if you have the Kindle App.

_J2G2636

That is pretty much all I have to offer people at this moment in time.

 

My two day jobs, involve people. I teach, so from today, my teaching will be done remotely. That’s going to be really very surreal. I don’t just like teaching, I love it. I’ve been doing it for ten years, and it’s more than just a passion. It really is a vocation. I salute, stand by with, my brothers and sisters in the teaching fraternity.  Since Tuesday, the air at work has been somewhat electric. The frisson has been that off worry, anticipation and anxiety.

Then there is the counselling. As a private practitioner, I’m only just starting out, but I’ve been standing by The Ethical Framework for years. I will continue to do so.  Counselling too, is a vocation. Something, that I can’t explain, in terms of process or experience. My work with trainees-those that I teach-as well as those I have worked with when volunteering, has felt really very powerful over the last few weeks. In the last week, working safely with clients, and offering them the required support has been main focus.

I am carrying on, as best I can. As much as I can.

Today is going to be weird. Seriously weird. I’ve felt anger, anxious and a profound sense of sadness.

I wish you all well.

All being well, I shall be around.

Go well, go safely. Rainbows and butterflies to you all.

 

 

 

Adventures, Books, indie author, paperback, Peace Novella Series, petal'spottedpreserve, Preparation, Taking stock

Bookish: Road to #Birmingham2022

petal

From Telford to Birmingham:

A book-related adventure.

I’ve been thinking about this post for a some time now; particularly how to put into words. This is altogether nerve-wracking.

Well, here goes.

In July 2022, the Commonwealth Games will be just about to kick off in Birmingham. As such, this has inspired a multi-genre gathering of authors from across the world. One of them, just happens to be yours truly. A gathering that is scheduled for the heart of Birmingham, yards from the Floozy in the Jacuzzi, in the Birmingham Council House.

The journey, this bookish road to Birmingham, starts in Telford in April 2020.

That’s less than six months away.

How did this all start?

With a short story. And nerves. Lots of nerves.

I was ecstatic to be invited to Birmingham 2022, by fellow local author Martin Tracey.

I met Martin, in a pub. The Gunmakers Arms in Birmingham, actually; I was reading there, so was he. That was my first ever public reading-Postcards from Peace, Devan’s Halloween Story, I’ve never been so scared in my life-thanks to A.A.Abbott, her Tippling Tales evenings are brilliant, and well worth attending.

(I’m back there tomorrow! Get tickets here.)

Immediately, as you can imagine, excitement and anxiety collided. This would be one a massive, historic, multi-genre event. A first for me. It was, and is, a huge step as an author, and Indie Author at that. I set about thinking; how could I make steps towards this big event, to raise my profile and actually reach people?

I have no idea if people read my books, unless I pester them! The dreams of having a fan-club, are exactly that. Being somewhat eclectic, the book back catalogue is somewhat diverse.  There is most definitely something for everyone.

I thought about it, and took a chance. Was there an event, that I could do in the mean time? Turns out there was. In Telford; sooner too. A good opportunity to build a profile, and reach readers.  This was Shenanigans 2020.  The link for tickets is below.

Shenanigans 2020 tickets

There are a couple of locations, currently being investigated, for pit stops in the middle. Birmingham 2022, will hopefully be something of a homecoming, in that respect.

The key thing, the most central to all of this, are the books.

six

As I type, I’m preparing book seven. The teasers were done yesterday! This is my third instalment for the Peace Novella Series. All being well, this will be out there for everyone, by April 2020.

As an Indie Author, reaching readers, is a key. This means that reading and reviewing is incredibly important. That moment, when you randomly recommend a book to someone, helps that happen. Even if’s a one line review, even if you only add a couple of stars.

 

Books, ebook, Taking stock

Plant Pot tales: the seeds of an idea

From blogging to beyond.

plantpottales

Four years ago, around about tea time, I pressed publish. What I was publishing, self-publishing that is, what Playing with Plant Pots: Tales from the Allotment.

I was bringing to a close, work that I had been doing over the summer. At the start of that summer, I had decided to write a book. I had no idea, what to do or how. The plan, all very vague, was to build on what I had written for the blog.  What I wanted to do, was to share via another platform, everything that I put on the blog.

I felt, more keenly than anything, that was I was about to do, was useful. That what I had learned, experienced and recorded would be valuable to others. I also like books. I am and always will be, a bookworm. Books are magical, they serve an infinite number of purposes and have an infinite number of effects.

What I was also doing, was taking my first tentative steps toward being an author, being a writer. That’s something that I’m still trying to get my ahead around. I’ve yet to put that on my CV; I feel like an impostor. It has taken me ten years to feel like a fully fledged teacher, I have no qualms about saying that’s what I do. Declaring myself a writer, an author, is just as hard as saying I’m a newly qualified and registered Counsellor.

Plant Pot tales was published via Kindle. The whole world of Indie publishing is still very new to me,  it’s an ongoing process to learn and process things. Plant Pot tales was a my gateway in, a baptism of fire. Without this book, I wouldn’t have written and published another five. After Plant Pot tales, there was Sow, Grow and eat. I had learned a fair few significant lessons before taking the plunge with that one.  Plant pot tales stands for so much, I’ve never fully appreciated it til now.

One of the best moments, was being sat there whilst Mama F told me her recipes. Most of what has been grown on the allotment has passed through her kitchen. I had to convert her conversation into a set of standardised instructions that could be replicated. Instructions that were both reliable and valid across time, location and population. In a word, these were recipes that could accessible, uncomplicated and bring some form of enjoyment to those using them. This was not supposed to be an onerous, over-complicated book to bamboozle people. There is nothing so off-putting as being over-complicated.

What I will never forget, is standing in the kitchen whilst flicking through the pages. It was the pictures that got me. I’d taken them all, used them on here for a blogging. I was developing an archive of images to support what I was writing. I don’t for one minute think that it’s a run of the mill gardening book. It’s part reference, part cook-book and that’s deliberate. I didn’t want to write a book that was the same as all the others; the same as all the ‘proper’ ones.

Not writing anything ‘proper’ or within expected norms, is a theme that carries on with all the other books. A theme, that does make it difficult to spread the word, promote and share the books. That is however, another story.

Plant pot tales has also travelled. It travelled to the US, where it was sold in a book store. Yes, a proper book store with shelves, people and everything. My book, was on a shelf. In a book store.

You couldn’t make that up, not really.

sixcovers