Retreat

The sunrises are different in Spring. There isn't the moody intensity of colour, the lingering hues as the sun decides to poke itself out from behind the sea. It's like it's in a rush;has somewhere to go, needs to be seen - it's not the meandering sunrises of Winter, which I've watched and savoured, wrapped in pyjamas with a coffee in my hand. The kitchen isn't open yet. I don't have a coffee, but the need to watch the sunrise is greater than the need to lie in what was one a confessional, on a narrow, but very comfortable single bed, pondering the growing light entering from behind the blind. 

Sunrise at Seacroft, 6 a.m. 6 November, 2021

I am on retreat, and I love that you get to do things like watch the sunrise. Living inner city, I rarely get to see the sun rise, and set, over water. Sure, I get to occassionally watch the balloons fly over the city, but my windows are West facing where the sunrise is an Or wake to the sound of the waves crashing onto the Great Ocean Road. Or hang out in my pyjamas as the wind toussles my hair, not caring that I'll have a hell of a time brushing out the knots. Sure, I could do without the sticky flies, which appear to be abundant, but we are in nature, and this is what happens. And sure, the alpacas in the adjacent paddock will probably come and try and bite as we try to make friends, but they are alpacas and that is in their nature. It's all cool. 

All I feel is peace.

This retreat is a little different from the other two I've been on. For one, we have to wear masks inside when writing. And there are fewer people here, but that only adds to the intimacy of the weekend. 

But I am with my tribe. 

As a loner and weirdo, I seldom feel at peace with people. It's not the case here. 

On my first retreat in 2019, it was like I was the new kid in school. Knowing nobody, I held back. It took the weekend, and the 80s Rock Quiz held on Saturday night  to really bring me out of my shell. I got to have the school social I never got to have. Plus, I'm pretty good at 80's music trivia. I've got two coffee mugs to prove it. 

Now, I happily drive down here, letting the car negotiate the undulations in the road, stopping for a dirty Maccas in Geelong, both on the way down and back, as this is part of the ritual. Two hours later, I  land at the old monsastery. My things are depoosited in my cell before joining the growing group on the lawn, glass of wine in my hand, maybe a sneaky drag on a pilfered cigarette - not something I do anywhere else, not something I do at home.  It's part of the growing ritual base. 

But I am with my tribe, and that is the best thing of all. 

When I describe the people who come to these retreats, I normally mention describe the women who come here as a mob of bolshie, left leaning iconoclasts who swear quite a bit. But they're more than this. Much more. There is a beating heart bigger than the sun. Women who care, who love, who nurture, who write. 

They're fucking awesome. 

And they are my tribe. 

Well, there goes my peace and quiet. Anthony has just cranked up the music in the chapel for "Morning Glory." We dance in the chapel in the morning. The rules are that you don't brush your hair, clean your teeth or get out of your pyjamas. Just come and dance. Seriously, when was the last time you danced with other people, in your PJs at 7.30 in the morning?

It's fucking awesome. 

ABBA has come on. 

It's time for me to sign off and dance. 

Today's song:

 

Book Review: The Performance by Claire Thomas

The Performance by Claire Thomas

Published 2021

Hachette

I wanted the first book I read in my reading chair to be a good one. 

It was. 

I loved this quiet reflection on women's lives. 

The book centres around a performance of Samuel Beckett's Happy Days in a modern Melbourne theatre. It course of the book looks at the interior thoughts of three women, at different stages of their lives. Margot, a university professor coming to the end of her career ponders her life with her husband and the things she may have done differently. Ivy, an unexpectedly wealthy woman, now a patron of the theatre, views her take on motherhood and gaps between her early life of scrimping and her new found wealth. And Summer, an usher at the theatre, who ponders her birthright, her studies and worries about her girlfriend who is caught up in the bushfire emergency taking place outside the theatre walls. 

This is a very Melbourne book, but its themes are universal.

The writing is stunning. Sparse and evocative, it moves effortlessly between the women watching the play, and onstage Winnie and Willie, the two characters, perform this piece of seminal theatre. Art imitates life throughout the book. Although I am not acquainted with this Beckett play, I loved how the characters related to their time in the theatre. 

Claire Thomas is a Melbourne writer who also teaches at Melbourne University. Her pedigree shows through the book. It's intelligent, but it also has great heart. Thomas has a deep understanding of the intricacies and struggles of modern womanhood. 

I'll be the first to admit that this book will not be for everybody, the theatre references making it inaccessible to some. But this has piqued my interest, not only in Claire Thomas's other works, but in Samuel Beckett's plays. So much so that I've dragged out a copy of Billie Whitelaw's autobiography given to me 25 years ago. She was Beckett's muse and has a bit to say about performing in his plays. 

If you like your thought provoking, considered books, give this one a go. 

I give it a solid four stars. 

Today's song:

Rules for Catching a Cat

Lucifer is a prick. 

Lucifer has got wind of the fact he's going to Aunty Blarney and Uncle Barney's for a little while. 

And Lucifer is being a prick. 

He's hiding under the bed. 

I'd left all the preparations to the last minute. But I had to get his blanket, toy and food into the car. The last thing to come out is the cat carrier. 

And now he's seen the cat carrier, he's gone under the bed. 

I've tried sitting on my lovely new chair. He comes and joins me in the windowsill, but as soon as I get up, he returns to under the bed, where I can't get him. 

It seems the rules for catching a cat are as follows:

• Keep your routine until the very last minute.
• Do not bring out the cat carrier until the very last minute
• Don't look your cat in the eye during the day
• Don't mention that he's going to go anywhere
• Pray to which ever deity you choose that when it comes time for him to go into the cat carrier that you will not end up losing a pint of blood
• Wear long sleeves and rubber gloves
• And know that no matter how long and often you apologise, he is never going to forgive you.

Two hours later: 

Lucifer is still a prick. 

It took me half an hour to finally gain his trust. 

And packing the car to move a cat is as bad as moving a toddler. You have to take as much stuff with you. Blanket, toys, food, bowl, crunchies, a bag of litter...

He's now lording it over the back of Blarney and Barney's house, hissing at anybody who comes into his end of the house. 

And I am home, bereft that my furry house demon is not with me. 

Blinded by mummy-guilt, I will go to my writer's retreat tomorrow, pining for my wee boy, knowing that I will have hell to pay when I come back on Sunday night. 

At least he's consistent. 

Today's song:

 

Editing class with Roy Kent

We finally arrived at the class on copy editing on Monday night. 

Oh what fun!

As a writer, I'm not a strict grammarian. I'm not bad at grammar - I sorta need to be pretty good at it with my job - but the type of writing I do at work demands consistency, not strict rules. And I normallly can't be that bothered - although I do get a bit of a kick out of correcting documents at work. (and if anybody uses the word "utilise" in my presence again, I'll go full Roy Kent.)

I do what I need to at work to get documents across the line, but I don't go overboard. 

Yes, I find myself yelling at people about the use of apostrophes. It isn't that hard. They indicate omissions and they show possession. Not that fucking hard. But people make it so. Or they leave them out. 

Laymen aren't that good at commas. Or they over use Oxford commas, which I am firmly in the Use Sparingly camp. Okay, I hate them, but they do have a point. Like the old adage about the wombats and men. One eats roots, shoots and leaves. The other eats, roots, shoots, and leaves. 

I don't think most of the people writing docs for my current company have any idea about clauses, or dangling modifiers, or dangling. They're barely able to differentiate between when to use who an when to use whom - or point out the subject and object of a sentence. Muppets. 

Thing is, when you get into correcting people's grammar, they get rather snarky about it. The editor is your friend in publishing land, but not in a working environment. I make people shake in their boots when I come round with my red pen (or yellow highlighter)

I must say, I rather like it. But I can see behind people's eyes. 

Today's song: 

Happiness is...

 A reading chair. 

I remember seeing this chair at my friend Millie's place a long time ago, back before she had children. It's a huge armchair come chaise langue. It was purchased at Freedom. It's called the Hemingway chair. I remember pricing it up after seeing it, I was that much in love with the thing. Then I thought the better of it and let it ride, but now and then, I have thought about that Hemingway chair - half armchair, half chaise, overstuffed, about as wide as a single mattress and very comfortable looking. 

A few months ago, Millie asked if I wanted the chair. It had been residing in her daughter's room, but now they need to get her a desk and they have no room for it. She wanted nothing for it. 

Of course, without really thinking, I jumped at the offer. 

Then I thought the better of it, and lockdown came and that was it. 

Lockdown ended, and Millie said she was willing to hand the chair over still. Today, the object of my affection came my way. 

Millie dropped it off this morning. It fit snuggly in the back her her husband's big ute. 

It's deceptively light. Just awkward. 

I thanked Millie with a bottle of gin seeing she didn't want anything. Just a small thank you. Bombay Sapphire never goes astray. 

Then, at ten a.m., a couple of fellows I found on Airtasker came over and took it up the stairs for me. It was awkward, but I tipped them handsomely, firstly, for working on a public holiday, and secondly, for being punctual and efficient. 

Ten minutes later, Barney came over and fixed the wonky leg (rather pleased that the Airtasker guys had been and gone). It was a matter of putting the offending plate back in, rotating it 45 degrees, drilling a couple of holes for the screws, putting some soap on the screws and screwing them in. Fixed in ten minutes.  That cost me a cup of coffee at the local cafe. 

And now the object of my desire is sitting in my spare room, wonky leg fixed, book sitting near the arm, a picture of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona looking over the scene. It will be an excuse to keep the spare room tidy. It will be a great incentive to read more.

I spent my lunch break curled up in my chair reading a book. It's even more comfortable than it looks. 

And I think I am the luckiest girl in the world. Yes, I have a flat of my own, but I now have the chair of my dreams. (and lovely friends who donate their unwanted items and friends who own a drill and a bit of handyman knowhow.

Today's song:

The Pseudo Public Holiday

They should just call the day before Melbourne Cup day as a public holiday and be done with it.

I'm working. And getting a lot done because nobody is in. 

If you can, you take the day before Cup Day off. Use your holiday, because it looks suss if you call in sick on this most auspicious of pseudo-public holidays. 

I won't go into the politics of taking a day off for a horse race. Last year I had a discussion about horse racing with Blarney. She likes it. I don't. I think it's a pointless sport and it's cruel. She doesn't. I think it glamorises gambling and bad behavior. Blarney doesn't have a problem with it. I don't have an actual big problem with it all, but I actively choose not to participate in the day. What other people think of it is none of my business, and I'm not going to stop them. 

Being a pseudo public holiday and having next to no meetings, I snuck out for a late lunch and to get my eyebrows waxed. It's very strange seeing the shopping centre filled with people. It still feels strange to be able to go into shops to buy things. So far, a set of tumblers, a new yoga mat and some underpants have been procured. For the record, my old yoga mat was perishing after years of occasional use. It will be nice to use the new yoga mat and not have the floor covered in detritus. 

It still feels strange not wearing a mask outside. 

Anyway, for a pseudo-public holiday, it has been lovely and relaxing. Quite a lot of work was completed. I helped arrange the laptop for our new team member, working with our lovely, but lacksidasical IT duded. To be honest, it was just nice not to have meetings all day. 

And tomorrow will be even quieter and hopefully I'll get more work done. 

So now is the time to get some real writing done. It's NaNoWriMo - even if I get 500 words done, I'll have acheived more than working and getting my eyebrows waxed.

Today's song: 

October Check In - November Goals

 And it is that time of the month again. 

Goal setting for the month. Which makes a change from doing the Sunday Stealing questions which I did last night. 

So, how did we go last month?

Read four books.

Nearly acheived this. 

I finished the following:

• Emma Viskic's Resurrection Bay
• Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything
• Jessie Tu's A Lonely Girl is a Dangerous Thing

I'm about halfway through listening to My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell and Virginia Woolf's Mrs Dalloway.  So this was nearly there. I also reached my year's reading goal of reading 40 books in the calendar year. 

Try and close the rings on my Apple Watch at least 25 times in the month.

Also a nearly - Managed 24 circle completions out of 25. Not a bad effort. I've been making a concerted effort to get exercise in. It's working. 

Attend that editing course. 

Tomorrow night is week four. Loving it. I do have to get 3000 words ready to hand over tomorrow night, but that's the fun of it all.

Go and have a picnic with somebody who isn't Jay or Cleo.

Actually did one better than this. I had a meal in a restaurant (okay, burger bar, but I didn't have to cook it or wash up after myself). Jonella, Thom and Norty and I met up for an early dinner before I went to the hairdresser. It was wonderful.  

Hoover and mop once a week.

Have got better at this. I have hoovered one a week. I've mopped twice this month. So this is a vast improvement. This is why we set goals? Yes?

Eliminate ice cream and chocolate

Yeah, this didn't happen either, but I've seriously cut down my sweets consumption - and I'm feeling better for it. 

And my goals for November:

Read four books.

I love this goal. It's keeping my reading up - and besides, I bought a couple more books this weekend - they need to be read - and my Hemingway Chair is coming on Tuesday. 

Use the gym three times a week

The gym is open again. I need to justify my membership, considering I see Cleo the trainer at another studio and I'm paying for some online classes with the wonderful Annie. So, this month I want to see if this can be justified. I went back to the gym this morning. It was great. 

Hoover and mop once a week.

I'm getting better at this - need to get even betterer. And once I conquer this, then I might make my goal around dusting, which I hate even more than mopping. 

Participate in NaNoWriMo

National Novel Writing Month. Write 50000 words of your novel over November - or give it a bloody good crack. I don't think I can get to 50000 words, but I will give it a crack. I need to start from scratch again. I have a lot that I can incorporate into the novel, but I want a fresh start - so that is what I am giving myself. The prompt board is set up. I have a long weekend coming up. I am giving myself permission to write badly but write loads. Get the ideas out there. 

See two movies

Again, needs to be done. It's been too long since I've been in a movie theatre and I want to keep supporting the arts while we transition to this COVID Normal arrangement, whatever that may be . 

Today's Song: