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HoHoHo? HoHum

Here’s another New Year. And a long time since I posted anything here despite best intentions.

I was going to write something about pride coming before a fall, but then the proud moment had long passed and the ‘fall’ element had somehow been absorbed into the acceptable now. *[see below for explanation of cryptic comment]

I was going to write a jolly piece about Christmas, but I was too busy getting on with it and then too tired to think of intelligent or amusing ways to recount it.

I had intended to record and publicise my silly version of The Twelve Days of Christmas and become a TikTok or Instagram star, but somehow in the manic weeks in the run up to Christmas I missed whatever small window of opportunity there might have been for such blatant self-publicity and decided that there would always be another Yule. (But will there? One never knows.)

So, there was no blogging or online sharing to be had in December and I find we are already in what might be termed mid-January, the first two weeks of 2025 having fortunately been very personally productive but not at all conducive to sitting creatively at my laptop.

I promise (to myself as much as to you) to keep writing stuff down here for posterity, amusement and therapy. In fact, I have an idea for the next one which I may even start today. 

In the meantime, many good wishes to us all for 2025.

And in explanation of my first point above, here’s a piece of the recent past which may be best forgotten.

*A much-admired first attempt at producing flyers, posters and concert programmes for my ‘big’ choir’s Messiah just before Christmas was a source of great personal pride in myself. Despite not wanting the role of publicity manager, I seemed to have made the best of it and done a decent job. I was relieved and pleased in equal measure.

The printed programmes did look really good … until someone spotted that I had misspelled the name of one of the soloists on the cover. One letter in her surname was wrong. And when I checked, the same letter was wrong on the flyers, posters – the lot! For sure, very few people would notice the mistake and the same name was correctly spelled inside the programme. What was even worse though was that I had spotted the exact same error (it is a very unusual name!) made online by our website manager and alerted her to change it months before.

So all my hard work and success were immediately dashed. I humbly and hurriedly purchased a pdf-editing licence, made the tiny change in the file and persuaded the printer to print me 20 additional copies of the programme with the right spelling at the same unit cost – lovely man, thank you! – so I could give our soloists and sponsors a ‘correct version’. I then gave the soloist a face-to-face personal apology at the rehearsal before the concert. 

I reckoned that by the time the concert was due to start, I had calmed down enough not to be fretful anymore – then, after making my apology to a gracious young soprano, laying out the imperfect programmes on the rows of audience seats and having an indulgent little snack…I lost my music! I was sure I had left it on my seat onstage after the afternoon rehearsal. But despite several furtive and increasingly anxious trips onto said stage I could not see it on, under or near my seat. I asked around, with mounting fear. Could I really sing completely off-copy? No. This was a complete disaster.

People rallied round and suggested places to check –  my bag, the now-empty programme boxes, the Ladies’. As if I hadn’t checked all those three times already.

It was only when someone helpfully pointed to a seat in the middle of the stage with a folder on it and asked could it be mine, that I realised I had been looking at completely the wrong row of chairs – several times over. I pulled myself together with relief and sang the concert tolerably well (we collectively performed very well indeed), but spent several hours later fretting that I really was losing the plot. A slightly tearful train journey home lugging a too-heavy bag full of discarded (and misspelt) programmes (they are given to each ticket-holder so inevitably many are left on seats – and then our choir members can have them if they want, so I have to take them to the first rehearsal) gave me enough time to compose myself before rejoining my relatives at home and putting a brave face on. 

With hindsight, it was a dreadful editing error to make but I can see how it happened and can hopefully catch such errors in future. And I was probably so stressed with the various plates I was spinning, dropping and catching in the pre-Christmas rush that anyone else would also have lost the plot a bit.

But… that little fear inside just grew a tiny bit bigger.

 

Something to look forward to – please

That’s what I need. Something to plan, something to look forward to realistically.

We had a pleasant Christmas (following a slightly bumpy start) and undertook some light socialising to brighten the dodgy betwixt days at the end of December. We’ve just learned that one of these events may have resulted in a friend catching the virus, and the rest of us are now waiting nervously to see if we all succumb. We thought we were so careful – just four of us in a large cafe space with very few other punters, sitting at a table next to the endlessly opening outside door.

I’m not sure whether that is what is making me grumpy, but today I have been facing up to 2022 and I really don’t know what to think. Prospects are not enticing.

No big holiday planned.

No small holiday planned either, although there are a few ideas knocking around. Probably won’t need my passport.

No clear plan for any activities yet. Half thoughts have crossed my mind of maybe doing a course this year (but I don’t want anything with exams!) and actually pulling some of my random scribblings into something more coherent, more widely shared and even saleable. (Hahaha, but I do like earning money. Being paid on Christmas Eve for my recent Netflix antics was quite a buzz. – Hmm, maybe I’ll be a film star instead. Yeah yeah sure.)

A few theatre tickets are in the phone wallet, but I fear they may all be cancelled – or I’ll be isolating or something. There’s also a production at the Bridge Theatre for which I’ve not even bought tickets, and I’m supposed to go to every production they do. I can’t miss one, but somehow I don’t have the get-up-and-go to get up and buy tickets. Might have to be an impulse buy on a glass-half-full day. If I have one soon.

I’ve been reading up on medication overuse headaches (oh lord, I’m scraping the barrel here), and it seems that I really do have to swerve my triptan lifeline for at least a whole month. So that’s my January mapped out. Painfully. Really looking forward to that!

Mr J has found several boxes of my father’s old photos – or rather slides. These need to be digitised. He bought a scanner years ago which we promptly hid away somewhere. But it seems that this could be my lifeline for 2022 – a project to get all these old images into the Cloud (or step one, onto the old computer in the back room – let’s not get ahead of ourselves). It seems to take more than 10 minutes to scan and save just 4 transparencies. I reckon this might also take care of 2023.

Send help! I’m not sure that looking forward to Project Pix is enough.

If I’ve written a miserable pile of words, I like at least to end on a more positive note. I was about to use the cop-out one – “at least I’ve got a blog-post out of it. Haha.”

But then I realised that in fact I have achieved something even better earlier this evening. I worked out how to stop Metro.co.uk sending me those stupid alerts which pop up on my screen 100 times a day – and I actually stopped it. Of course, it was a matter of seconds to achieve and I immediately thought no more of it, but I now realise happily that I have not been interrupted whilst writing this blog with any Emmerdale or Eastenders revelations, or salacious gossip of any sort, AT ALL. It’s been annoying me for so long that it feels like a huge weight is lifted. Hurrah!

(That last bit’s an exaggeration for dramatic effect, but hey, it’s definitely cheered me up.)

 

 

 

2021 vision

Last year I determined to make more blog posts. I achieved an increase, but not the weekly number I had intended, despite being grounded for much of the time. Must do better – although this year I think I’ll focus on getting more readers rather than simply increasing my output.

I also want to write more generally and create something with greater lasting value. I will no doubt need a competition or specific third-party challenge to spur me on. Any suggestions welcome.

Additionally, I aim to write a review, however short, of each book or theatrical event I experience and share these on this onecryingeye.com website. I have been keeping notes privately of everything I read and watch for a while now, so this should not be too difficult.

I suppose the above are New Year resolutions of a sort. I don’t really believe in making such resolutions – it all seems a little artificial and destined for failure. On the other hand, this is as good a time as any to try and up my game, and a convenient point from which to monitor success. As I’ve mentioned before, I love statistics and a good spreadsheet, so there will be some enjoyment in measuring how I am doing.

And – what else is there to do right now? One of the reasons for retiring early was to travel the world whilst I still have the energy and, when not doing that, experience more theatre and other entertainments. So, whilst I absolutely do not claim any hardship from this pandemic – after all, I have been able to read far more, walk more in Richmond Park, enjoy my garden, devour more box-sets and even remarkably do some decorating, and thus far have retained my health – there is quite a frustration at being stuck at home, and I would like to counteract that with some achievement or other this year. Whether this is helpful to anyone else apart from myself remains to be seen. I will perhaps quietly take on something else less ‘self-regarding’ if the opportunity arises.

So, my vision 2021 is clear (really? We thought 2020 vision was clear and how wrong we were!) – well, if not clear then at least written down.

Knuckle down and produce some work of which I can be proud.

Get a grip and get on with it.

Right, now I’m off for a walk in the New Year’s drizzle and mist to congratulate myself on my clarity of thought.

Hmm.

 

 

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