I was at the train station 15 minutes early, so like a good A215-er, I got out my trusty notebook and pen and did a freewrite.

Sitting on a bench at the station platform.  The wind’s blowing my hair, it tickles my face.  My pink bicycle is propped up on the wall where the back door of the cab office is.  I’m not blocking it as the sign says to use the front door.  I can hear men in the cab office.  Chirpy cockney cabbies or whatever the Kent equivalent is.  People are crossing the footbridge to get the train going towards London.  I’m on the Ashford bound one, off to a job interview for a job I don’t want.  The thought of sitting in an office all day again depresses the life out of me.  The woman on the tannoy is announcing the train on the other side.  The 14:40 to Charing Cross.  It’s only 14:05 so she’s a bit early.

My train is going to be a minute late.  It’s warm today, the sun is heating my face and I’m glad I didn’t wear my heavy jacket as well as my suit jacket.  I have to leave the jacket unbuttoned as I’ve put on weight since the last time I wore it and I’m bursting out and it looks crap.

I stand up to look at the screen.  It now says it’s going to be 3 minutes late.  Fuck.  I’m cutting it fine as it is, as I’m cycling from the other side.

They’re calling my train now but it’s not here.  If I don’t get lost on the way I should be ok for time.  There’s a train on the other side.  She must have said 14:14 not 14:40.  At least she’s clearer than the London ones.  Someone else is crossing the footbridge but she’s not hurrying, even though the train is there.  They must take it easier round here.

There’s people coming down the footbridge from

Train here.

I’m on the train with my bike, I hope it doesn’t fall over.

A chill in the air
Leaves turning amber and gold
Autumn approaches

Naughty me, another haiku that isn’t describing a scene in nature.

Pen

Ink runs so freely
Transcribing the written word
Our thoughts are gathered

I’ve just got to the Daily haiku part in the BRB (I know, I know, I’m behind…) and I was looking forward to this bit as then I could see if what I’d been doing up to now was completely shit.  Well, obviously I knew it was completely shit, but I just wanted it confirmed.

A traditional haiku is one that captures a scene in nature or seasonal change arranged in three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five syllables.

We’re told to focus on painting a picture in words but then the BRB loses my respect by saying not to exceed the seventeen syllables but we may make it less.  Less syllables? LESS?  Surely they mean fewer?  Bah.

Oh well, onto the haiku.  With seventeen syllables or fewer.

No. 1

Curiosity
Green eyes gaze out of window
Black fur meets sharp claws

No. 2

Blue skies and green trees
Clouds floating overhead
Fields are full of sheep

No. 3
Rubber burns tarmac
A distant rumble of cars
Rush hour traffic looms

Hmm.  How many syllables in “hour”?  One or two?  I’m thinking two now, which means my haiku is WRONG.

No. 4

A lonely cottage
Tiles fall and crash to the ground
Only brick remains

Would that sound better as “only bricks remain” rather than “only brick remains”?

This focusing on painting a picture in words thing is quite hard, as I’m trying to think in a deeper, more sensory way, rather than just choosing some words and trying to make them fit into 5-7-5.

No. 5
Treetops whispering
Their silent call to nature
Here it is tranquil

I think there’s too many small words in my haiku, e.g. “is”, “to”, “a”.  I need to cut these down.

No. 6

Bookmark scuffed and bent
A reminder of books read
Many more to come

Well, that’s neither a scene in nature nor a seasonal change but hey ho, I don’t think Bashô’s going to rise from his grave and come after me.

No. 7

White clouds suspended
Movement imperceptible
Like high up sheep

Ok, I’m getting into silly terrority now.  And I was doing so well with the nature thing.

No. 8

Black face peeks through fence
Chomping the grass on the ground
Looks up, says “baa”

No. 9

Mother brings the food
Kids are screaming “that’s my plate!”
Father takes a drink

I’m not sure if quotation marks are allowed in haiku.  Probably not.

That’s the end of today’s haiku.

I’m a bit late posting this, but I’ve been busy working (shock, horror) and then too knackered in the evening to do anything but eat my dinner, watch Eastenders (which I have now given up, so if it has got any good in the last few days, can someone tell me please?) and then read for a bit but anyway, here’s my write up of what went on in a chilly room somewhere in TN1.

The day started off with me moaning about getting up early and how I didn’t want to drag a Big Red Book around with me and how I didn’t want to get on a train and how I didn’t want to go and sit in a room for 5 hours and how I wanted to stay in and play on Facebook do some really important stuff instead but I was unceremoniously shoved out the door and dragged kicking and screaming like a 5 year old (because as you can tell, usually I act in a manner befitting someone  39 years, 9 months and 4 weeks old) on her first day at school down to the train station, stopping briefly at Sainsburys to pick up some sweets to keep me quiet a flapjack for breakfast, a bottle of water and a cheese and onion pasty for lunch.

The journey wasn’t that bad after all and I passed the time reading Torture the Artist by Joey Goebel and when I got to  Tonbridge, all I had to do was walk a few feet to the other side of the platform where the Tunbridge Wells train was waiting for me.  Yes, it was only waiting for me.  No one else.  Just me.

On arriving at Tunbridge Wells, I followed someone I thought  looked like they might be going to an OU day school (she was carrying a rucksack so I thought it might have books in it) and I doubley cursed having to bring the BRB with me as I struggled with it up a steep hill.  I lost the woman I was following on a crossroads when she crossed without any due care and attention by ignoring the traffic lights, leaving me stranded on the other side of the road waiting for the cars to stop.  After I crossed the road in the way the Green Cross Code Man used to tell us to, I consulted my map and found out that I had been following the random stranger with the rucksack in the right direction and carried on and found the road where the Adult Education Centre is.

I entered the building and a man said hello to me and I said hello, I’m  here for the Open University day school and he pointed at a large poster right in front of me containing a detailed and informative list of the course no., tutor, room and floor.  I was about to tell him I’d forgotten my glasses but remembered I had put them on so he wasn’t going to fall for that old chestnut.

I made my way to the room we were in and was greeted by our tutor and four others (A, H, P & J).  Another (J) joined us and the six of us made up our group for the day.  Being British, we didn’t let the stereotype down and all sat very politely with an empty chair in between each other.

After being asked our names, we were straight in at the deep end with a writing exercise, where we were asked to think about a memorable book.  We then had to read out what we’d written.  I mumbled something about Schrodinger’s Baby by H. R. McGregor and how one of the characters had really depressed me by reminding me of me.  And not in a good way.  She was totally self-centered, obnoxious and a complete pain in the neck.  The other students’ books were Heidi, To Kill a Mockingbird, Sense & Sensibility, The Lord of the Rings, and one that I’ve forgotten (sorry A!).  They read out their choices and gave coherent and touching stories about why these books were memorable, unlike my incoherent, irrelevant rubbish.

Next we were told about some pages in the BRB that are important and that should be pointed out to us now, as we wouldn’t get to them until a lot later in the course.  These pages were 373-374 regarding dialogue, and pages 615 onwards which deals with punctuation.  This is the only time we went near the BRB, so I dragged it up that hill for no reason.  Bah.

We had a break (I never know what to do in breaks now I don’t smoke anymore so I just checked my phone for Facebook updates) and then it was back to work.

We had to choose a postcard from a variety spread out on a desk and then we were given prompts to write from, such as what time of day is it, what is happening in the card, what’s happening just out of frame, etc.  I found this really inspiring and useful in generating ideas and got quite a lot written down.  I wouldn’t have thought so much inspiration could come from one image and the prompts will definitely help me in the future.  I think we all got a lot out of that exercise.

The next exercise we all hated.  Or at least none of us got on very well with it.  Which to me was surprising as it was a clustering and freewriting exercise which I’ve enjoyed doing as I’ve been going through the BRB but somehow I just couldn’t get going with this in the class.  I was very scared that we’d have to read out what we’d come up with and I’d only come up with complete crap that I’d crossed out and so had nothing to share.  Luckily we didn’t have to read anything out and I’m not sure if anyone came up with anything of substance.

Then it was lunchtime, hurrah.  I ate my pasty (Sainsburys, cheese & onion, 60p) and it was very nice.

After lunch we did some more writing.  This time about the place we usually write and about our ideal place to write.  Writing about the place I usually write was easy; writing about my ideal place to write in started  off sensibly and somehow ended up a rambling, disjointed stream of consciousness mentioning the smell of the washing that had just come out of the machine.

Then our time was nearly up.

Our tutor told us about some writing/poetry events that were happening.  She then read out some of her own work, which was great and that was that really.  The time flew past, I had a great day with some friendly, warm and approachable people and I went home inspired and motivated.

If you’re doing the course and you can get to your tutorial, please do, you’ll have a great time.

The fire’s glowing red
Feet up with a glass of wine
Friday evening, ah

Because I’m such a Billy-no-mates and don’t have anyone to go to the pub with, I put out a couple of adverts in the hope of recruiting some people to join the book club I wanted to start.  After a slow start, I got a few people interested and last night four of us had our first meeting to discuss A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby.

I’ve never even been to a book club before, let alone started one up, so I didn’t really know what I was supposed to do.  We chatted for a bit about where we lived, what we did and so on and then it was suggested that we talk about the book, what with it being a book club and that.  Good idea.

A Long Way Down is about four people who decide to commit suicide on New Years Eve.  Martin’s TV career is in tatters after sleeping with a 15 year old girl, JJ’s depressed because his band broke up and his girlfriend left him, Maureen’s got a severely disabled son and can’t cope anymore and Jess is full of teenage angst and Special Brew.  They all meet up on the top of a North London tower block, a notorious suicide spot nicknamed Toppers House and an unlikely friendship is formed.

The book is written from each of the character’s point of view and while this is a bit confusing at first, they each have a distinctive voice so you always know who’s speaking. 

We all agreed that Maureen was the only likeable character but that all the characters were believable although Jess wasn’t portrayed very consistently.

Not Hornby’s best book, but a good read nevertheless. 

Next month’s book, chosen by Gillian, is Notes on a Scandal by Zoe Heller.

Maidstone Book Club meets the second Thursday of every month, if you’d like to come along, please contact me.

Someone on the OU A215 forum posted a link to www.wordle.net.  It’s a website that generates word clouds based on text you provide it.  The more times a word is used, the bigger the word will be.  You can either paste in content yourself, or give it an url and it will generate it for you.  The clouds can be customised with different fonts, layouts, and colour schemes. 

This is what I got when I gave it the URL of this blog.

Pretty, isn’t it?

Still playing with my rhyming dictionary, here’s another.  I don’t know what sort of poem it is.  (And don’t say a crap one.)

Isabella

There was a girl called Isabella
Wanted to be a storyteller
Hoping OU would teach her to write
She stayed up scribbling into the night

I’m not sure how much rhyming poetry we’ll be doing in A215 but I was browsing amazon for rhyming dictionaries and got some recommendations from others on the course, and decided upon the Oxford Rhyming Dictionary
which was delivered today.

Obviously, I couldn’t wait to try it out, here’s the result.

Prawn

There once was a young man called Shaun
Whose girlfriend forced him to eat Quorn
One day he fought back
And fixed a quick snack
Of sandwiches made out of prawn