Yes and No

I wonder why it is so hard for us to say "no" when we mean "no"?  How many times have we really meant to refuse a request from an acquaintance only to meekly agree to something we didn't want to do?  Sure I'll do the school run all this week!  Sure I'll take little Billy all day tomorrow while you go shopping - he'll demolish everything in the house he can lay his hands on and I'll just about manage not to belt him one, but yes, of course, no problem.  Sure I'll stay late and finish off the project, I'll just cancel that trip to the cinema I was looking forward to.

There is another side to this, though.  We all know people who, with supreme self-confidence, say "no" to requests or suggestions.  Our feelings are a little hurt by this, I think.  Our enthusiastic :  "Hey, I've just read this great novel, would you like a loan of it? - you'd love it" being met with a "no thanks, not my cup of tea" is a dampener. Or worse still our "I just bought these trousers, what do you think?" being met with an up-and-down look that says it all even if the lips are sealed.  If it's a good friend, we'll most likely accept it.   On the other hand, if it's an acquaintance we feel a bit dashed even if we know we should value that person's honesty (who wants honesty when you can have diplomacy?).

I've tried saying "no" without hurting anyone's feelings but have never really succeeded.  Obviously there are times when I can't fulfill requests,  which lets me off the diplomatic hook.  And on occasion I have been driven by sheer desperation to say "no" but this always makes me feel uncomfortable.  Trouble is, once you start saying "yes" to some people, they take it for granted and dream up more and more things for you to do for them.  The other day, though, I came up with a winner.  I was asked if I'd buy two unwanted tickets to the opera and my reply "actually I'd love to but I'm coming down with the vomiting 'flu" turned out to be the perfect answer.  Illness as a way of escape?  Perhaps. From now on I think I'll make use of Oscar Wilde's character in The Importance of Being Earnest when he says "I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose."  
It's worth a try.

The Ups and Downs of the Supermarket Aisles

I read recently - can't remember where - that while you are standing in line at the check-out, you can be judged by the items in your basket.  Yikes!  That's food for thought and sorry about the pun.

I learned recently that I'm a dood (don't own or drive), which means when I go shopping I buy in small walk-homeable lots.  That means you are likely to find me standing in front of you with a carton of washing powder and a deodorant stick in my shopping basket or possibly a few kilos of potatoes and a packet of tissues with a magazine thrown in for good measure. Shop light, chase the special offers and carry home as little as possible is my mode de shopping vie.

But that is not what this lifestyle article meant.  For example, if I remember correctly,  a bunch of spring onions in your basket says "I'm going to make a complicated gourmet meal tonight", i.e. I am a hostess of elegant dinner parties.  You are on the right side of the higher income bracket if you turn up at the check-out with San Pellegrino water instead of Tesco's brand - but of course you won't be shopping in Tesco's anyway, now will you?  And apparently there are people who have all their shopping delivered either in M&S or Waitrose carrier bags regardless of where they bought it in order to impress the neighbours.  Personally, if I have to go to that much trouble to keep up with the Joneses I'd be looking for a house swap.

I don't know why I found this all very fascinating except perhaps that I wondered who has the time and interest to inspect people's shopping baskets and then make decisions on their lifestyles based on what they are in the process of buying.  What does it say about me if I buy just one bottle of cidre? Will other more sophisticated shoppers think a) I'm making an extraordinarily tasty stew and have invited some French people to dinner? or b) I can't afford more than one bottle of the stuff?  or c) I'm a secret cider drinker?  None of which assumptions would be correct.  Come to that, what light does a tin of beans cast on my character and lifestyle?  The bigger question is:  do I care?  And the answer is, no I do not care a scrap and I suspect that I belong to a vast number of shoppers who are far more interested in getting their stuff through the check-out and ultimately into the kitchen without sparing a glance or a thought for the bottles of San Pellegrino and spring onions in anyone else's basket.  What a happy thought!

Resolutions and Regrets

New Year's Eve - that day in all the year when we either start brooding over the past year or forming resolutions of doing better in the New Year.  I must admit I'm sentimental.  Saying goodbye to the old year is almost like saying goodbye to an old friend.  I've felt comfortable writing 2012 and now I'll be struggling for the first few weeks at least to write 2013 instead.
My reminiscences on the dying year are speckled with "why did I's?" or "why didn't I's?"  as in "why did I let myself be persuaded to buy that pair of shoes that I can hardly take two steps in without falling over?"  and the annual lament "why didn't I give up eating chocolate like I intended?"  All too late now and I don't think any new set of resolutions I might care to dream up would fare any better when I take them out and go through them at the end of 2013.
Why do we wait until the beginning of the New Year to make resolutions?  It's the worst time of all for keeping them. If they are of a dietary nature they'll be broken by the time the wintry sun sets on the horizon.  Not eat chocolate?  Well, there's just that one box I got for Christmas and when that's finished of course I'll stop eating the stuff.  We know where that will end.  And the idea that I can become a stronger person well able to fend off persistent sales people in the shops?  Gone with the first piece of chocolate. For if I don't have enough strength to resist a box of chocolates what chance to do I stand against a smart sales assistant with "winter bargains" beaming in her eye telling me the dress was just made for me?  I'll be led to the cash desk with a stupid smile on my face, fancying I'm doing this because I decided to and not because I am like a piece of putty who can be persuaded to anything, especially when it is tagged "reduced price". 
So if anyone asks what my New Year resolutions are for 2013, my answer is going to be that I have liberated myself.  I'm going to eat chocolate, drink wine, buy stuff in the shops I don't really need.  Wait a minute - isn't that a kind of New Year resolutions in itself?  In which case I can be sure I'll keep it.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!

Dreaming of a White Christmas

I forgot to mention that I was away last week visiting family and friends in Germany.  Apologies to anyone who looked for a new post from me.  And I'm afraid this post is going to be short because I have a lot of shopping and stuff to catch up on.

Disappointingly, there was no snow on the ground in Germany, in fact it was mild and rainy.  This didn't stop me prowling round the Christmas markets and slurping mulled wine and - my favourite - eggnog with cream.  Yummy. I just love the smell of cinnamon and aniseed and the all pervasive aroma of bratwurst (German fried sausage, as I expect you know). And of course I couldn't resist buying some Christmas ornaments and a few scented candles.  But a bit of snow and a frosty sky sparkling with stars would have been a nice backdrop. 

I often wondered why we like to have a white Christmas.  I was reading Jane Austen's Emma for the umpteenth time recently and came across the passage where that pesky vicar gets into the coach with Emma and her father and says "ah,snows a little I see" and then goes on to say "Christmas weather!  Quite seasonable!" So all those nostalgic Christmas cards depicting carriages or robins in the snow are not so wide of the mark for us insular Europeans.  Snow was apparently wished for at Christmas and was not unusual in Jane Austen's time.  And it does give us a warm, safe feeling if we look out the window at a white world as we sit in the warmth.

Whatever the weather, wherever you are, I wish you all a very Happy Christmas!

Just Looking

I must be every shop assistant's idea of a shop lifter.  This was borne in upon me yet again last weekend when I went on a browse.  No sooner than I had stopped at the first beauty counter than an assistant appeared out of thin air and honed in on me.
'Can I help you?' she purred.  I told her I was "just looking".  She ignored this feeble statement and with a practised eye noted that I had been looking at face creams.  She picked up a tube of serum guaranteed to iron out even wrinkles you didn't know you had and have you looking younger than you did at 15.  The price tag would have done justice to buying shares in the Waldorf Astoria.   'This is on special offer only this weekend,' she said, holding it out to me enticingly  'Try it.'  I muttered something and moved away but she kept hovering at my side and as soon as I looked at anything on the counter she was there to tell me what great stuff it was.  It was as if she thought I'd pocket something if she didn't keep a sharp lookout. In the end I slunk off without buying anything.  I was even too discouraged to try a sample squirt of one of the new perfumes. 

Of course I should have had more back-bone and kept on browsing, but with a shop assistant keeping a sharp eye on me - or so it seemed to me - I just didn't feel comfortable.  And yet what are all those glass counters for, if not to browse what's on display and maybe buy something that catches your fancy and doesn't bankrupt you?  Half of the fun is window-shopping and in these days of cold austerity it takes longer than usual to decide what you want to buy and what you can afford.  Oh for someone who says "if you need any help let me know" and then goes off and leaves you to it.  Nine times out of ten that's when I make a purchase. On the rare occasions when I really need advice the assistant is usually out of eye-reach attending some glamorous, well heeled customer.  Ah well, that's Murphy's Law, I suppose. 

To be fair, I guess many of these sales ladies are bored.  They've learned all about the products and are dying to impart this information to prospective customers.  The only trouble is that prospective customers like myself prefer to browse in peace and quiet.  Otherwise we take ourselves off to the unmanned counters where we can look all we like. 

The Next Big Thing - Tag

Janet Cameron, whose novel Cinnamon Toast and the End of the World will be published by Hachette in spring 2013, tagged me to answer the questions below on my current novel Spate of Violence which will be published as an e-book also in spring 2013.  See link to Janet's website under My Blog List.
So here goes:

Where did the idea come from for the book?
Driving home late one night I saw a gang of kids roaming the streets, intent on no good by all appearances, and I started thinking about these kids, their families and what would happen if someone tried to stop them.

What genre does your book fall under?
This is a difficult one to answer.  I guess it's a contemporary fiction novel.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?
I would like all roles to be played by unknown actors because I think that would suit the nature of the story.    

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?
The Bartels move to the town of Bitterfeld when Sebastian lands a super job in nearby Frankfurt but his family are torn apart when he joins the local vigilantes whose avowed aim is to restore law and order to the city streets.

Will you be self-published or represented by an agency?
I plan on publishing Spate of Violence as an e-book.

How long did it take you to write the first draft?
It took me over a year.  I revise as I go, so I kept changing and editing scenes.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?
My inspiration to write comes from every day experiences, conversations with strangers and a generally overactive imagination. 

What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?
Spate of Violence is the story of how a a family walks the tightrope between self defence and obeying the law. It also provides an insight into the world of the gangs. 


Normally I should now nominate at least one other writer but will have to do this at a later date.
 

Who goes there?

I read the other day that a friend of Prince Charles told the media that he (Prince Charles) had seven eggs cooked for him every morning and then decided on which one he would eat, depending on how cooked or not it was.  We are assured that this is a myth and the Prince does no such thing and I can hear a collective sigh of relief all over the egg-eating world at this very important discovery.

 It set me thinking, though.  Who was this friend who blabbed about something about which he/she obviously knew as much as a reader of a secondhand copy of Hello at the hairdressers?  How do you define who a friend is?  If you are a celebrity you'll have lots of "friends" spilling your guts to the media any time you have half a personal crisis.  "Friends of the couple, who wish to remain anonymous say ...."  What kind of a friendship is that? 

So what is a friend?  For me, a friend is someone who knows when to keep their mouth shut.  Someone who doesn't dish the dirt on me or give away my darkest secrets - I haven't got many, in case you're worried.  And someone who makes me feel good about myself most of the time while still being able to give me a verbal kick up the derriere if I get out of line. By definition, this is an "intimate" friend - again another invention of the media.  I either have friends of the above calibre or I have "acquaintances".  I don't expect too much from acquaintances.  They can be lots of fun to be with - people I really like - but I'd never tell them anything I'd regret telling to even the cat in the morning.  And I might not like it if they criticize me behind my back, but hey, I probably do the same to them.

The most hurtful thing is to consider someone a friend and then discover they've been tearing you to pieces as happily as a terrier with an old slipper.  That's happened to me a few times in my life - can't say I've learned from it, either. I have the feeling that it happens to celebrities a lot - otherwise it would mean colossal job-loss on those glossy gossip magazines even with all the eye-boggling "confessions" and interviews with the rich and famous.  You have to have a quote from a "friend" of Brangelina or Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson or any other celeb who migh be currently in the spotlight for whatever reason.

In the old days the sentry guarding the gate to the city said something like "who goes there - friend or foe?"  It would be good sometimes if we could ask this question of those around us - not that I think anyone would admit to "foe."  But perhaps a telling silence might suffice.