In Person
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
It's late afternoon...today I have written a piece about 'The Great British Public' for Radio Four's 'Off The Page.' Tomorrow I go to Bristol to record the programme. I'm also working on the outline for a Sitcom, set in a gym in Newcastle. I am feeling quite dizzy! Nothing is simple this January. There is so much work to do. The new novel still needs alot of work. Although most people who read it find it compulsive I think it needs shaking by the neck. Writing is always difficult, and there are no short cuts. So I am feeling a bit grim and stern.
I just had a great weekend in London though. I went to St Batholemews Church at Smithfield. I ate salami in Carluccios, and sat in a jacussi in Muswell Hill. I wandered round Spitalfields market eating olives. Another reason to be happy is that I sleep very well...like falling into a deep velvet darkness. I wake up completely new every morning, and it hasn't always been like this. I have had months of insomnia! Also, I have stopped sweating. There are many reasons to be delighted. Food is mostly delicious. I have just bought a new Doctor Zeuss like lamp from a Turkish shop. Now I am going for a massage. Will return soon!Posted by julia @ 04:06 PM GMT
Monday, January 19, 2004
My friend Andrea Badenoch's memorial yesterday was a wonderful tribute to her. As various people stood up and recalled different aspects of her life a picture emerged of the complex, enigmatic, gifted, unusual person that she was. Someone said how well she combined art and politics, neither deadening the other. Her son talked about her dancing in the front room, another friend talked of her winning a 'Guess the weight of the tortoise' competition at a local fete. There was music like The Tracks of My Tears, and Itchycoo Park, poems, silences and contributions from the many people who had travelled far to remember her. Andrea and I used to talk about funerals and memorials alot. I think she would have enjoyed this one, and the obituaries in the Independent and The Guardian. Although she has been ill for many months, I find I am missing her friendship properly now. She was great to talk to about writing, and she had fierce opinions. She would get furious about arts spending and fickle publishers. You could talk to her for hours, and she really listened. Linda France, the poet, said yesterday that when someone dies we lose the part of ourselves that we invested in them.
January can feel so quiet, dark and dangerous. Today I lay on the sofa and watched 'The Night of The Hunter.' Then I played old records (The Housemartins, Michelle Shocked) on an ancient gramaphone and ate ham sandwiches. At one point I went gliding round the supermarket and bought very bizarre and particular foods: prunes, fresh ginger, goats cheese, a dozen limes, coriander, olbas oil.
In the windswept muddy garden there are some dear green shoots poking out of the earth. Yesterday my daughter saw a large fox padding along the pavement outside our house. I can stare for hours at a crossword clue. It's also that time when we all start sorting out cupboards. Last night I counted all the scrabble letters in four different scrabble sets. Sometimes it feels as if I am not living in a city at all, and that we are all living miles apart in a vast windy landscape. Still, tonight we had a great supper at my neighbours, with lots of other people from the street where I live. I am very lucky to live in a street of people who I would probably travel miles to meet, yet here they all are on the doorstep.
Last night I dreamt I was telling hilarious jokes. They were so easy to tell, I couldn't believe it. Why would one dream of jokes in such a dark, generally unfunny month? Of course I can't remember a single one now.
Posted by julia @ 12:29 AM GMT
Monday, January 12, 2004
My friend Andrea Badenoch died on 4th January. Like me she had breast cancer, and she was first diagnosed in 2000. We talked so much about cancer. We used to laugh about the doctors, making up stupid names for them. She was a great support, and we used to send each other emails all the time, about symptoms, and discussing how we felt about life and death. As she got iller we lost contact. Andrea preferred to be private, and discouraged visitors as she became increasingly unwell. She is a real loss. I feel as if a part of me has gone. I've been thinking about the past, about times Andrea and I went away together to write. She was very patient and good at talking about writing. She would worry WITH you about something until you reached a solution.
It is very hard to believe that she has gone. She was still young, with three children, very smart, clever and with many more things she wanted to do in her life. She did everything she could to heal herself, using complementary therapies and conventional treatments. We wanted to write a book about all the people we had been to see between us, some of whom were rather dubious. I am dedicated the Cure For Dying to Andrea...although she is not either of the main characters, she was very much in my heart when I wrote the book.
Posted by julia @ 03:14 PM GMT
Friday, January 2, 2004
This Christmas I cleverly put sparkle on my eyelids and then had an allergic reaction, so I looked like a boxer with two black eyes. But I enjoyed myself all the same. I watched that brilliant animation about Belle Ville. Didn't do any cooking. Walked around the Shropshire countryside which seemed to me to be full of secret hideaways, and intelligent looking cows. I read a Barbara Vine murder mystery, and my mum and sister both read the manuscript of the new novel and gave useful comments. I sat on a step at nights and looked up at the stars. I went and meditated in Hereford Cathedral with my daughter and thought about all the people I care about. This Christmas we had alot of fun with a plastic dance kareoke mat...a chinese version of Kylie Minogue squeaks as you stamp out dance steps on the mat. I also had many frothy baths, in a large and ornate bathroom with the bath in the middle of the room.
New Year was the same as always...parties in our street...more kareoke....I tried so hard to get drunk, but failed. I used to love a good old drink, but now I just lose interest. It was so cold outside, with swirling beads of freezing rain. There is something delirious about it all...I find at this time of year all my dreams and daily life get mixed up. Really I am a routine person....I need alot of regularity to function.
I am very grateful for 2003, (although it's been a horrible year politically). I've been so healthy, something I didn't expect, and it's really felt like a kind of bonus. I was trying to write a poem about it, that sensation when you think that things are winding down, but then everything just gets more and more alive and exciting. Anyway, I'm counting my blessings. I haven't made any resolutions really. I really want to answer mail at the end of the day rather than the beginning, so maybe I will try to do that. I must try to eat breakfast. I want to go and see more bands, also dry my hair with a hairdryer.
Happy 2004 to everyone out there!Posted by julia @ 11:59 PM GMT
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