Author diaries

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13 December 2007 Entry: "Christmas Again?"

Christmas Already?

Christmas is often a time tinged with sadness - I’ve just heard that Chrissie Glazebrook has died. She was such a great supporter of Julia and I in the early days, first when we were the Poetry Virgins. And then, when we blithely asked for money to publish our work in a book, Chrissie was part of the Northern Arts Literature team that saw fit to give us some funding on the basis that we became a publisher. So she was an initial instigator of Diamond Twig. What wonderful support and encouragement for two publishing virgins. A great role model.

I seem to be getting more and more behind myself - not much of a blogger, me.

I don’t think I’ve got the mental approach right, as in Little and Often - which works for all sorts of things - eating, drinking, taking exercise? (Little and Often sound like a comedy team).
However, I digress.

In an effort to be right on and an all-round good egg, I am telling my family that some of my presents will be recycled. Books from charity shops sort of thing. I find it very hard to resist Christmas altogether, and giving presents is fun - but quirky, individually made or obscurely-hunted-out are the sort that show thought has gone into them. A bunch of smelly soaps and bath salts - what message does that send out? Happy Christmas - you stink ?

One Christmas, as a poor ex-student, I was working for a mail order firm (Britannia Records - it foisted vinyl onto unsuspecting people who then couldn’t get rid of them). It was all women, tearing open envelopes and dealing with orders, tedious but pressurised, in a grim basement somewhere in Shepherds Bush. Our female supervisor’s one festive gesture was to buy everyone a small gift. I think it was either a bottle of eau de cologne or chocolates - but she confessed when she came to me, that she was completely stumped. She couldn’t decide whether I was an eau de cologne woman or a chocolate woman. I can’t remember what I finally received. it was obviously forgettable. But I was delighted that I was uncategorisable.

I must now get on with various tasks before the world shuts down and goes comatose in front of the telly/roaring fire/groaning table/round of drinks in the pub.

Festive Greetings - and Peace in the New Year.