Cherish the little things...

...something I try very hard to do.

New Years Eve, 2014: I spent the evening with friends and, as we chatted about the previous twelve months and our hopes for the next twelve, we found that happiness was the one thing we all wanted to have more of, whether it was in work, relationships, personal achievements- whatever our priorities were. 

This got me thinking. I make a point of practising positive thoughts and counting my blessings and, the previous year, I'd taken part in the #100happydays challenge (which I thoroughly enjoyed, despite being very ill at one point). But what if I could have 365 happy days? Could I find something to be happy about every single day?

It was interesting. Like most people, I have good days and bad days; days so wonderful I want to remember them forever and days so awful I want to stay under the duvet and never leave the house again. Sometimes it felt like the world was filled with happy; other times, happy was pushed aside by busy, or tired, or stressed. If I didn't keep on top of the happy, it went away. Being happy, I reasoned, was like being an athlete or a musician. I needed to train for it. Every. Single. Day. 

The next day, I went out and bought three diaries: one for each of my friends, and one for myself. I set them the challenge- could they find joy in every day? It didn't need to be anything huge- although sometimes it is- but they had to find one thing every day that made them feel happy.

Six months on, my diary has an entry for every single day but one- the day Terry Pratchett died. (I tried, but the hole he left sucked all the happiness that day.) I pushed myself to continue, though, and I haven't missed a day since. I like reading back over them and remembering.

My entries are in a sort of code- phrases that probably only make sense to me and the people I shared the moment with. It's a way of keeping these special moments private but I want to share them anyway. I wonder if anyone reading them will recognise the reference, and if it made them happy too? I hope so.

Here are some of the things that have made me happy:

a near-miss with karaoke

Roo getting stuck in the car

snoozing on a warm bus on the way back from football

my first band t-shirt in too many years

the Cask

"Good"

starlings

the kindness of strangers

playing in the snow

Mo Chickens

doing something kind for someone who didn't deserve it

climbing a fence in heels

Mary cakes

Bill's toy car

doggy dancing to Uptown Funk with Alfie

epic walkies

The Hat

"special" bowling

Ali breaking a fence

pizza with Bill

a Roman banquet

the last few miles to Fontygary

Pirate Bay

the scent of jasmine

a game of horseshoes

mucho ale and touchy-feeley good vibes

arm wrestling John for the last pint

dancing to Paul Weller

butterflies in my tummy

poker night

buttered crumpets

manly jobs

Ryan the parrot

having my hair stroked

a broomstick

"Oh"

"my woman"

Spanish penguins

If I asked you to tell me one thing that made you happy today, could you? 

Why don't you share in the comments- or maybe you'll decide to keep a happy diary too. 

Great Fictional Characters: Z is actually for zzzzzzzz...

The final day of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2015

Wow. It's been a fun and manic month of blogging, where I've speed-read my way through old favourites, rifled through well-worn pages for memorable quotes and stayed up way past my bedtime to keep on track with my posts.

I've agonised over Gandalf vs Granny, chewed my nails off over Rhett vs Rincewind, and, in the case of U is for Uriah Heep, given up completely...

But it's been great. I've made some new friends as I've explored other blogs or they've commented on mine, and the range of creative talents I've seen- from fiction to photography to forensic science- has been an eye-opener. I fully intend to continue with the madness in next year's challenge, and I'm already considering themes. I'd love to hear your suggestions!

Today, however, Z is for zzzzz... which is what I'll be doing in just a few short minutes (I'm shattered). If you really want to read about Zaphod Beeblebrox, I'm afraid you'll have to do it on Wikipedia. I'm going to bed :)

Thanks for joining me on this challenge, and I hope you enjoyed it too.

Night night,

Louise

zzzzzzz...

Great Fictional Characters: You Bastard

Continuing with the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2015

Pardon my Klatchian, but Y is for You Bastard.

You Bastard is the greatest mathematician on the Disc. He is also a camel, which explains the name, as camels believe their name is whatever people shout at them.

Most people's experience of camels would lead them to believe that they are stubborn, stupid creatures who can barely control their own legs but, as Pratchett explains in Pyramids:

“The fact is that camels are far more intelligent than dolphins. They are so much brighter that they soon realised that the most prudent thing any intelligent animal can do, if it would prefer its descendants not to spend a lot of time on a slab with electrodes clamped to their brains or sticking mines on the bottom of ships or being patronized rigid by zoologists, is to make bloody certain humans don't find out about it. So they long ago plumped for a lifestyle that, in return for a certain amount of porterage and being prodded with sticks, allowed them adequate food and grooming and the chance to spit in a human's eye and get away with it.”  

Artist credit

It's not such a bad life. Living in the desert provides an abundance of time to think: there are few distractions and the rhythmic plodding of hoof on sand is a pleasant accompaniment to methodical calculation. It's no wonder that, on the Disc, camels evolved to be so intelligent, if only for something to do to pass the time. It explains why they take so long to get going, too. Imagine if your head was filled with this:

“You Bastard was thinking: there seems to be some growing dimensional instability here, swinging from zero to nearly forty-five degrees by the look of it. How interesting. I wonder what’s causing it? Let V equal 3. Let Tau equal Chi/4. cudcudcud Let Kappa/y be an Evil-Smelling-Bugger* differential tensor domain with four imaginary spin co-efficients. . .”  

(* Renowned as the greatest camel mathematician of all time, who invented a math of eight-dimensional space while lying down with his nostrils closed in a violent sandstorm.)

What makes You Bastard such a great character for me is the simple fact that Pratchett has taken the most belligerent, bloody-minded and seemingly dumb animal on Earth and recreated it as a complex, deep-thinking genius that can out-think us all.

It certainly made me look at them in a different light... although I'd still prefer to look at them from a safe distance :)

Remembering Sir Terry Pratchett

Today would have been Terry's 67th birthday.

It's a little over six weeks since that awful day when I heard the news. 

I'd popped in to my mum's to check on her dogs on my way home from work, and my phone connected automatically to her wifi. It fired off about seven or eight messages in quick succession (I work in an area with a very weak signal, so this often happens when I return to civilisation).

I let the dogs out and swiped my phone to read the first message.

Oh sad news today. X

I was confused. Sad news about what? About who?

I checked the next message.

Have you heard about Terry? So sorry Lou xxx

I felt like I was about to throw up. I googled his name and there it was. I checked Twitter, just to be sure.

AT LAST, SIR TERRY, WE MUST WALK TOGETHER.

I sat on the floor and burst into tears.

The next morning, one of my pupils came straight up to me on the playground to ask if it were true. When I said yes, she gave me a hug. I needed it.

My pupils know what a fan I am: they've heard all my Discworld stories and in-jokes, can count in Troll (one, two, many, lots) and, last year, our class novel was Truckers. (When I met Terry in 2012, I told him I was a "Pratchett-pusher", which I think he liked.) They saw how sad I was; they noticed how I've worn my turtle pin every single day since his death; they'll understand why I'm wearing a black hat today. The Turtle Moves, and it moves through every reader who loved his words.

Last week, one of my pupils, the same one who hugged me, gave me this:

 

 

 Dear Terry Pratchett,

We know you're gone. But I still wanted to wish you a "Happy Birthday".
You are a brilliant author and you will be missed.
By the way my teacher (Miss West) is your biggest fan, she also gets inspired to write books like you.
At school we've got all (most) of your books.
WE'RE ALL BIG FANS!
Hope you were here Sir Terry Pratchett.
Take care of yourself,
from Natasha
x

 

More hugs, and a tear or two. The Turtle Moves.

If you'd like to read my post from that day, you can find it here.

Great Fictional Characters: Perdita X Dream

Continuing with the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2015

Ok, I'm cheating slightly here, but X is for Perdita X Dream, the alter-ego of Agnes Nitt.

"Inside a fat girl there is a thin girl and a lot of chocolate. Agnes's thin girl was Perdita."

Agnes has good hair: it's long and glossy, never splits, and is extremely well-behaved, except for a tendency to eat combs. Her voice is amazing, and not just for the fact that she can sing in harmony with herself. She's kind; she's funny; she's clever. She also has a lovely personality.

Artist credit

"Agnes had woken up one morning with the horrible realisation that she'd been saddled with a lovely personality. It was the lack of choice that rankled. No one had asked her, before she was born, whether she wanted a lovely personality or whether she'd prefer, say, a miserable personality but a body that could take size 9 in dresses. Instead, people would take pains to tell her that beauty was only skin deep, as if a man ever fell for an attractive pair of kidneys."

Perdita, on the other hand, is vain, selfish and vicious- and, unlike Agnes, she doesn't care two toots for what anyone else thinks. She also isn't real- at least, not in a flesh-and-blood sort of way. She's the voice in Agnes' head, the wicked thoughts she doesn't want to admit to, the urges she doesn't dare carry out.

"How does Perdita work, then?" said Nanny.
Agnes sighed. "Look, you know the part of you that wants to do all the things you don't dare do, and thinks the thoughts you don't dare think?"
Nanny's face stayed blank. Agnes floundered. "Like... maybe... rip off all your  clothes and run naked in the rain?" she hazarded.
"Oh, yes. Right," said Nanny.
"Well... I suppose Perdita is that part of me."
"Really? I've always been that part of me," said Nanny. "The important thing is to remember where you left your clothes."

Where Agnes is good-natured and sensible, Perdita is dramatic and rebellious- and mean. She makes sarcastic comments (often aimed at Agnes herself) and, occasionally, even takes over in an emergency, or where she believes Agnes is ill-equipped to handle the situation with enough style and flair. She's bold, brash and great fun, in small doses...

Do you have a Perdita? What does she tell you to do?

Great Fictional Characters: Winston Smith

Continuing with the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2015

W is for Winston Smith.

“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.”

1984 is probably the most depressing book I've ever read, depressing in the same sick-to-my-stomach feeling I get when I think about oblivion. Yet I still love it and reread it often. Why?

Good question.

Maybe it's because of the main character, through whose eyes we view Oceania, and through whose heart we learn to hate it.

I like Winston Smith. Unlike the rest of society, who either blindly follow Party rules or pretend to (while breaking them whenever they feel the need), he resents the rules and feels them as a suffocating force. He clings to his humanity while mourning the loss of it in others. He knows that he is different in the thoughts he has, and this makes him both special and dangerous.

“Perhaps a lunatic was simply a minority of one.” 

He's too intelligent for his own good; too aware of the wrongness of what is happening around him. He can't play along with a system so false. He sees it for what it is and wants to escape it- only he doesn't know how. The best he can manage is a petty rebellion, a war waged inside his head. Convinced that Big Brother is on to him for his Thought Crimes, he begins living his life as he if already caught, already dead.

Every time I read 1984, I'm rooting for Winston and hoping that maybe this time the story will turn out differently: that he'll beat the system and live happily ever after.

Orwell doesn't let him because to do so would give the reader hope, and there is no hope- not for humanity, not according to O' Brien.

“If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face—for ever.”

Winston is a great fictional character because he represents the values of a truly civilised society: democracy, peace, freedom, love, and decency. His fight is our fight. Orwell intended 1984 to be so horrifying that a civilised society would fight to stop it becoming the future. Although many elements of Big Brother are with us now, the reality is that these human values can never be stamped out. I think that's the reason I keep returning to 1984: hope in humanity.

Have you read 1984? What's your take on it?

Great Fictional Characters: Sam Vimes

Continuing with the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2015

V is for Vimes- Sam Vimes.

Ye gods, how do I even begin to try and summarise a character so complex and magnificent as Mister Vimes in only a few hundred words? Perhaps I should start with his own:

"If there was anything that depressed him more than his own cynicism, it was that quite often it still wasn't as cynical as real life."

Sam Vimes is Harrison Ford, Clint Eastwood and Jack Dee rolled into one messed-up (yet still redeemable) Night Watch guard with a short temper and a chip on his shoulder . And I love him for it.

Born in the Shades, from a "too poor to paint; too proud to whitewash" single-parent family, Vimes is now a highly reluctant member of the nobility, with an annoying habit (in his opinion) of collecting titles: currently, he is known as His Grace, His Excellency, the Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes. The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork bestows titles on Sam just to annoy him or, possibly, because he thinks it's funny. Sam himself likes to add Blackboard Monitor on the end.

His rise to power came slowly: after many years as captain of the practically-obsolete (thanks to the Thieves' Guild) Nightwatch, Vimes' firm grasp of the nastier side of human nature led to him spending a significant chunk of his adult life as a drunk. The arrival of a dragon, and Lady Sybil Ramkin (not to be confused), kick-started his arc and the creation of one of the best-loved characters on the Disc. The romance between Lady Sybil and himself, unfolding over the course of many books, is the most beautiful yet unsoppy thing I have ever read, and I wish there were a few more like Vimes in this world so I could find one and marry him ;)

But back to the story. Vimes, though loving married life, is not exactly comfortable with his new wealth and status, seeing himself as one of "us" rather than them, and he hates the idea that he might be lumped in with the upper classes, who sneer at those below:

“...the helmet had gold decoration, and the bespoke armorers had made a new gleaming breastplate with useless gold ornamentation on it. Sam Vimes felt like a class traitor every time he wore it. He hated being thought of as one of those people that wore stupid ornamental armor. It was gilt by association.”

 Don't get him started on the tights.

 One of the reasons Vimes is so fascinating to me is his philosophical outlook (except he probably wouldn't call it that, being far too no-nonsense and slightly suspicious of big words). Here's a good example:

Are you feeling lucky?

“The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.

Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles.

But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that'd still be keeping his feet dry in ten years' time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet.

This was the Captain Samuel Vimes 'Boots' theory of socioeconomic unfairness.”

Whenever I read one of the Discworld novels with Vimes, I feel like I balance out a bit. I'm guilty of wanting everything and everyone to be lovely, and I know that makes me hopelessly naïve at times. Vimes is a wake-up call. He sees things as they really are, and sometimes worse than they are (from experience). One of Nature's policemen, nothing can be hidden from him and he knows that you'll slip up sometime. He's probably the reason policemen make me nervous: according to Vimes, everyone is guilty of something.

That's not to say he doesn't have a fun side... oh, how he loves to toy with the Assassins who are sent to kill him (though not anymore: they've decided he's more useful alive than dead- or perhaps they are just embarrassed that they've failed so many times). And when it comes to impersonating animals and well-known Ankh-Morpork residents for the amusement of his son, Young Sam, no one can match him.


“WHERE'S MY COW?!
IS THAT MY COW?!
HRRRUUUUGGGH!!!!
THAT'S NOT MY COW!
THAT'S A HIPPOPOTAMOUS!”

I think his tough exterior, in true trope-style, is only to protect his soft core. His genuine affection for his fellow watchmen, his pride in his city, his unswerving love for his family and his determination to lock up as many bad guys as possible are the actions of a truly compassionate and altruistic man.

In terms of personality, Vimes bears some similarity to Granny Weatherwax (another one of my favourites). They are both hugely intelligent, dryly witty, uncannily observant "good" characters who secretly fear the darkness inside them, and constantly strive to control the more poisonous side of their nature. Granny watches herself constantly for signs of cackling; Vimes for "the Beast".

Quis custodiet ipsos custodies? (Who watches the watchmen?)

Vimes does. Always.

"No excuses. No excuses at all. Once you had a good excuse, you opened the door to bad excuses."

What are your thoughts on Vimes? Is he a moral compass or just a good copper? Feel free to share in the comments below.

Great Fictional Characters: Uriah Heep?

Continuing with the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2015

U is for...uh, is for... erm... dammit.

I'm totally busted.

I can't remember any great characters whose names begin with U from books that I've read. Not one. Not a sausage.

But there must be! I hear you cry. In the billions of books ever printed, there simply must have been characters whose names began with the letter U, and, surely, at least one resonated with you? Just a little?

Lovely readers, I'm afraid the answer is no.

With the rest of the A to Z, I've found an abundance of greatness- a cornucopia of corkers. I've struggled to choose between Gandalf and Granny Weatherwax, Tiffany Aching and Tris Prior- even dear old Katniss nearly didn't make the cut- but, when it came to U, I drew a blank. Even Google let me down: the only Us that came up were Lady Una (Stardust: I've seen the film and own the book, but haven't read it yet) and 'gulp' Uriah Heep.

Dickens. 'shudders'

I'm so sorry, Charlie...

I can't be doing with Dickens. I feel incredibly guilty about it: it's like admitting to not liking puppies or tea or the Peak District. Everybody loves Dickens! He's a classic author!

I have tried. I can make it all the way through A Christmas Carol (because it's short and I can imagine the Muppets version) but reading any of his other works feels like force-feeding myself shredded cardboard. A bit harsh, maybe, but a fairly accurate description of the level of my enjoyment.

So today I'm throwing it over to you: what am I missing? Can you convince me to pick up David Copperfield and find out, straight from the horses mouth, who this Uriah Heep chap is without resorting to copying and pasting from an A-level English revision website?

What can Dickens do that other authors can't?

In short, what the Dickens is the fuss about Dickens?

I look forward to reading your comments.

Great Fictional Characters: Tiffany Aching

Continuing with the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2015

T is for Tiffany Aching.

Happy St George's Day! Now, to my knowledge, Tiffany has never battled with a dragon, but she's had her fair share of scary monsters to contend with- and I'm not just talking about the sheep on the Chalk.

In The Wee Free Men, she rescues her brother, Wentworth, from Jenny Green-Teeth (with a frying pan, no less) and then later, when he is kidnapped by the Queen of the Fairies, she marches off to Fairyland to get him back. From the start, Tiffany always rises to the occasion—even if it's not necessarily what she wants to do. She may not like her little brother that much, but she's his big sister, after all, and that means it's her job to make sure he's okay and to bring him home.

“All witches are selfish, the Queen had said. But Tiffany’s Third Thoughts said: Then turn selfishness into a weapon! Make all things yours! Make other lives and dreams and hopes yours! Protect them! Save them! Bring them into the sheepfold! Walk the gale for them! Keep away the wolf! My dreams! My brother! My family! My land! My world! How dare you try to take these things, because they are mine!

I have a duty!”

Fresh from that adventure, and having set her mind on becoming a witch, she goes to apprentice with Miss Level and soon lands in trouble again- this time with a hiver. A hiver is a strange parasitic entity that takes over the mind until the body is no use to it- often because that body is no longer breathing... Tiffany eventually manages to banish it from her body, but that's not enough. Knowing it will continue to search for a body to inhabit, she resolves to get rid of it entirely, though not without the compassion of a true witch, the support of a great one, and learning some valuable lessons:

“Always face what you fear. Have just enough money, never too much, and some string. Even if it’s not your fault, it’s your responsibility. Witches deal with things. Never stand between two mirrors. Never cackle. Do what you must do. Never lie, but you don’t always have to be honest. Never wish. Especially don’t wish upon a star, which is astronomically stupid. Open your eyes, and then open your eyes again.”  

Older and wiser, (or possibly not) Tiffany moves on to train with another witch, Miss Treason. Miss Treason takes her to see the Dark Morris, a secret version that balances out the one everyone is familiar with by saying goodbye to the Summer Lady and letting the Wintersmith take his turn on Earth. Entranced by the dancing, Tiffany can't help herself and joins in, drawing the attention of the Wintersmith himself. Intrigued, the Wintersmith pursues Tiffany with the amorous intent and enthusiasm of a teenage boy, his "gifts" becoming more dramatic and dangerous as the season progresses. Tiffany must keep her frozen beau at bay long enough to find the real Summer Lady and complete the Dance of the Seasons before the Wintersmith's love- quite literally- smothers her and the Chalk community she watches over.

"You could say it was unfair, and that was true, but the universe didn’t care because it didn’t know what “fair” meant. That was the big problem about being a witch. It was up to you. It was always up to you.”  

Her most recent adventure, and the one I'm re-reading at the moment, sees her pitting herself against probably the most dangerous opponent yet- the Cunning Man. From being respected and feared (in a healthy way), witches suddenly start finding themselves mocked, accused and even resented. Tiffany learns this is down to the Cunning Man, a demonic spirit of pure hatred, able to corrupt other minds with suspicion and anger. He has it in for witches, big time, and Tiffany is on his hit list. She needs to stop him and the stakes are high: if she fails, the other witches will step in and do whatever is necessary to restore the normal order- even if it means killing her...

“Everybody needs a witch, but sometimes they just don't know it.”  

Tiffany's pretty awesome because she uses her head more than her magic, runs toward her fear instead of away from it and, instead of letting the grown-ups deal with the hard stuff, rolls up her sleeves and gets stuck in. She's not afraid of who she is:

“Yes! I'm me! I am careful and logical and I look up things I don't understand! When I hear people use the wrong words, I get edgy! I am good with cheese. I read books fast! I think! And I always have a piece of string! That's the kind of person I am!”  

What do you think of Tiffany? Let me know in the comments x

Great Fictional Characters: Scarlett O' Hara

Continuing with the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2015.

 

S is for Scarlett O'Hara.

 

 “Scarlet O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. In her face were too sharply blended the delicate features of her mother, a Coast aristocrat of French descent, and the heavy ones of her florid Irish father. But it was an arresting face, pointed of chin, square of jaw. Her eyes were pale green without a touch of hazel, starred with bristly black lashes and slightly tilted at the ends. Above them, her thick black brows slanted upward, cutting a startling oblique line in her magnolia-white skin-that skin so prized by Southern women and so carefully guarded with bonnets, veils and mittens against hot Georgia suns.”  

 

Oh, to be a southern belle! To drink mint julep on the porch and go to balls! To wear fine dresses and flutter my eyelashes!

 

Obviously, Scarlett manages a little more than that- quite a lot more than that, in fact- and following her as she grows emotionally from a spoiled, selfish little madam who deserves a good slap to a resilient and resourceful woman never fails to be a joy for me. 

 

I love her feistiness, her complete disregard for anyone but herself, her downfall and heart-breaking epiphany. Plus, anyone who can look good in curtains and a cock-feather is a winner in my eyes.

 

Scarlett taught me to act dumb, think smart, flutter my eyelashes and that, after all, tomorrow is another day.