My, that came in quickly.
In the last month, I've moved, I've seen Bon Iver and Steve Earle in the space of a week (and both were great) and I've finally started my Christmas shopping. And earlier today I went to Edinburgh and saw my dad accompany a violinist from the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra at the Japanese Embassy, among other things.
I need to get back into swimming when I have enough money. I was hoping to be down to 13st 6lbs by Christmas (exactly two stone lighter than I was in August) - while that's probably not gonna happen now I'd like to try.
Photo by Chris Scott
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
The most momentous thing happened this month
I actually got an interview for a Proper, Grown-Up Graduate Job.
I've been keeping quiet on this front because I wanted to be sure whether or not I'd get the job.
After having put down a deposit on a new place (five minutes up from the old one - yeah, I moved by the way) I found a job that sounded like great fun. It was with a PR company in Edinburgh (I know, I know, lengthy commute etc) who worked mainly with IT and computer companies. However, I had read the person specification they had put on the website and it sounded like it fit me. So I applied. I wasn't expecting a reply, but I thought it was worth a shot anyway, and besides, I'd just had yet another crap shift at the Paid Job. So I rattled out a covering letter, attached my CV and emailed it.
To my surprise, I got a response from them three days later, asking me to come through for an interview. I was absolutely delighted. So, among everything else that had to happen that day, I headed to Edinburgh the following Monday and was interviewed by the two people who make up the company. I personally thought the interview went well, but by Friday I hadn't been asked back for a second one. Just now I received confirmation that they'd now filled the position, but the rejection was nice enough I guess - just that really I'd been up against some stiff competition, all more experienced than me, and that they wished me well. While I'm gutted to have missed out, I hope I made a good enough impression that I might be successful if they ever recruit again.
Meanwhile, I've found two more jobs to apply for that require English degrees and that I fit the specification for. Feeling a bit more hopeful in general. Maybe I will get a new Paid Job this year - which will be grand, given that it has now transpired that the current one lied to me about my holiday allowance, potentially fucking up my Christmas plans again...
I've been keeping quiet on this front because I wanted to be sure whether or not I'd get the job.
After having put down a deposit on a new place (five minutes up from the old one - yeah, I moved by the way) I found a job that sounded like great fun. It was with a PR company in Edinburgh (I know, I know, lengthy commute etc) who worked mainly with IT and computer companies. However, I had read the person specification they had put on the website and it sounded like it fit me. So I applied. I wasn't expecting a reply, but I thought it was worth a shot anyway, and besides, I'd just had yet another crap shift at the Paid Job. So I rattled out a covering letter, attached my CV and emailed it.
To my surprise, I got a response from them three days later, asking me to come through for an interview. I was absolutely delighted. So, among everything else that had to happen that day, I headed to Edinburgh the following Monday and was interviewed by the two people who make up the company. I personally thought the interview went well, but by Friday I hadn't been asked back for a second one. Just now I received confirmation that they'd now filled the position, but the rejection was nice enough I guess - just that really I'd been up against some stiff competition, all more experienced than me, and that they wished me well. While I'm gutted to have missed out, I hope I made a good enough impression that I might be successful if they ever recruit again.
Meanwhile, I've found two more jobs to apply for that require English degrees and that I fit the specification for. Feeling a bit more hopeful in general. Maybe I will get a new Paid Job this year - which will be grand, given that it has now transpired that the current one lied to me about my holiday allowance, potentially fucking up my Christmas plans again...
Monday, 26 September 2011
Oh dear
Writers' block, after a few half decent ideas, has attacked again. Fail.
I'm working on moving all over again. I hate moving. But this flat is too expensive now. Cheaper options must be found.
I wish the graduate climate would pick up again, my job bores me. That said, I am considering setting aside a day to apply for a Masters.
If I can ever remember how to think up a good story again
I'm working on moving all over again. I hate moving. But this flat is too expensive now. Cheaper options must be found.
I wish the graduate climate would pick up again, my job bores me. That said, I am considering setting aside a day to apply for a Masters.
If I can ever remember how to think up a good story again
Sunday, 11 September 2011
NineEleven
It's a little belated, but I want to add my two penn'orth.
I still remember what happened on this day, and I think I always will.
It was a Tuesday, and I was off school ill with what I think transpired to be a routine throat infection that didn't last long. I was 13, and in second year of high school. My mam came out of work early on that day to take me to the doctor. She was working in my old primary school at that point, with the class three years below mine (which would have been P6) but mainly with one pupil who was physically disabled.
We were sitting in the waiting room, just talking. At that point it had been about three weeks since my maternal granny had died (I marked her passing on that date with a lit scented candle in the wee small hours). She'd been a known figure in the local community, having taught French and German at my old high school. A couple of people we knew stopped by to chat to us and ask how we were doing.
The radio station on in the waiting room was Radio 2, which wasn't unusual. At that age I was a bit sniffy towards Radio 2, regarding it - accurately enough - as 'The Old Channel' (something I love about it now, funny that). So, needless to say, I was paying little if any attention to it.
Then it came on the news. Well, I didn't hear it at first, but Mam did, and was trying to tell me - only she said something about the Empire State Building first, and I got mixed up and thought it was in fact that building that the planes had hit. I started paying more attention then, but then it transpired that the ESB was, in fact, unaffected - instead the World Trade Centre had been hit, as had the Pentagon, and another plane that had been hijacked and had crashed in Pennsylvania. One of Mam's pals, who was then a nurse at the health centre (and has long since undergone a career change but that's another story) stood and listened with us, and I'm pretty sure we even spoke about it with whichever doctor saw me.
When we got home, we put on the telly and lo and behold, CBBC (which by this point I was too old for anyway) was off BBC1 and on BBC2, and the former was now was just rolling news from BBC News 24 regarding the attacks. We watched for a while, just that image of the plane hitting the South Tower and the huge grey broccoli cloud that burst out of it, before both towers collapsed. Finally I had to go and think about something else, so I went to my room and probably did what I did best then - just wrote something. Later that evening, my mam encouraged me to send an email to her friend Fiona (Auntie Bear as I call her), who lived in the region where the attacks happened. I asked if she and John - her husband of only a couple of months by that point - were okay and if they could send us any info.
The next day I was well enough to go to school, and even made it to Youth Club later that night. I still hadn't heard from Auntie Bear, so I ended up checking my mail on the office computer (which was allowed). At last, correspondence. I breathed a sigh of relief.
John had written most of the email, it went thus:
"Dear Hannah,
Hi: this is John, Fee's husband. We're both fine. As we understand the
situation right now, at about quarter to nine local time this morning, an
airplane was hijacked and crashed into one of the World Trade centers in NYC.
About ten minutes later, a second hijacked airplane was crashed into the
second World Trade Tower. Shortly after that, a third airplane was hijacked
and crashed into the Pentagon, which is located just outside Washington D.C.
in Virginia. Approximately an hour after the second World Trade Tower had
been struck, it collapsed. About ten to fifteen minutes after that, the first
Tower also collapsed. Somewhere in here, a fourth hijacked airplane crashed
in western Pennsylvania.
As you can imagine, we're both quite stunned. The casualty list is going
to be enormous; it's too terrible even to contemplate, really, as apparently a
number of buildings near the WTC were damaged/destroyed in their collapses.
We're sitting on the edge of our seats, wondering what (if anything) is next,
which is, I suppose, the very effect such terrorism is meant to have on one.
There are blood drives starting up locally; I imagine I'll donate as soon as I
can.
That's about what we know. Sorry the news is so grim, but thanks for
your care and concern. We'll keep you updated if anything else happens (touch
wood).
well hannah john has given you a pretty comprehensive report. We'll no doubt
be watching the news tonight and hoping that nothing else happens. Y'know
there are real advantages to living on Shetland, aren't there?
love aunty b"
I've never in my life felt more relieved to hear from someone.
It was all anyone spoke about for a good few weeks afterwards. A girl in the class my mam assisted with brought in a news report from online that showed where the planes had hit. In my English class we wrote poems about it; mine and one other girl's were later featured in a school anthology of writing (although hers was far superior - mine rhymed, which was probably not appropriate looking back).
That said, as horrifying as the attacks were, the resulting War on Terror generated many innocent victims too, both soldiers and civilians. I remember going to a protest march in early 2003 against the threat of war on Iraq, which was made good a month later - however, since Saddam Hussein was toppled more people have died than were killed in the war before that. Similarly, Osama Bin Laden was killed at the beginning of May this year. Firstly, so many people were killed in the 9 and a half years before they got to him. Secondly, his death will not kill terrorism. If anything it'll make it worse.
So yes, to conclude, the victims of both the events of 9/11 and those that followed were in the back of my mind today. As we discovered when Amy Winehouse died the same day as the massacre in Norway earlier this year, compassion is not a finite resource and it is possible to feel sad about more than one group of people at the same time. That's how I've felt every year since it happened, and that will never change.
I still remember what happened on this day, and I think I always will.
It was a Tuesday, and I was off school ill with what I think transpired to be a routine throat infection that didn't last long. I was 13, and in second year of high school. My mam came out of work early on that day to take me to the doctor. She was working in my old primary school at that point, with the class three years below mine (which would have been P6) but mainly with one pupil who was physically disabled.
We were sitting in the waiting room, just talking. At that point it had been about three weeks since my maternal granny had died (I marked her passing on that date with a lit scented candle in the wee small hours). She'd been a known figure in the local community, having taught French and German at my old high school. A couple of people we knew stopped by to chat to us and ask how we were doing.
The radio station on in the waiting room was Radio 2, which wasn't unusual. At that age I was a bit sniffy towards Radio 2, regarding it - accurately enough - as 'The Old Channel' (something I love about it now, funny that). So, needless to say, I was paying little if any attention to it.
Then it came on the news. Well, I didn't hear it at first, but Mam did, and was trying to tell me - only she said something about the Empire State Building first, and I got mixed up and thought it was in fact that building that the planes had hit. I started paying more attention then, but then it transpired that the ESB was, in fact, unaffected - instead the World Trade Centre had been hit, as had the Pentagon, and another plane that had been hijacked and had crashed in Pennsylvania. One of Mam's pals, who was then a nurse at the health centre (and has long since undergone a career change but that's another story) stood and listened with us, and I'm pretty sure we even spoke about it with whichever doctor saw me.
When we got home, we put on the telly and lo and behold, CBBC (which by this point I was too old for anyway) was off BBC1 and on BBC2, and the former was now was just rolling news from BBC News 24 regarding the attacks. We watched for a while, just that image of the plane hitting the South Tower and the huge grey broccoli cloud that burst out of it, before both towers collapsed. Finally I had to go and think about something else, so I went to my room and probably did what I did best then - just wrote something. Later that evening, my mam encouraged me to send an email to her friend Fiona (Auntie Bear as I call her), who lived in the region where the attacks happened. I asked if she and John - her husband of only a couple of months by that point - were okay and if they could send us any info.
The next day I was well enough to go to school, and even made it to Youth Club later that night. I still hadn't heard from Auntie Bear, so I ended up checking my mail on the office computer (which was allowed). At last, correspondence. I breathed a sigh of relief.
John had written most of the email, it went thus:
"Dear Hannah,
Hi: this is John, Fee's husband. We're both fine. As we understand the
situation right now, at about quarter to nine local time this morning, an
airplane was hijacked and crashed into one of the World Trade centers in NYC.
About ten minutes later, a second hijacked airplane was crashed into the
second World Trade Tower. Shortly after that, a third airplane was hijacked
and crashed into the Pentagon, which is located just outside Washington D.C.
in Virginia. Approximately an hour after the second World Trade Tower had
been struck, it collapsed. About ten to fifteen minutes after that, the first
Tower also collapsed. Somewhere in here, a fourth hijacked airplane crashed
in western Pennsylvania.
As you can imagine, we're both quite stunned. The casualty list is going
to be enormous; it's too terrible even to contemplate, really, as apparently a
number of buildings near the WTC were damaged/destroyed in their collapses.
We're sitting on the edge of our seats, wondering what (if anything) is next,
which is, I suppose, the very effect such terrorism is meant to have on one.
There are blood drives starting up locally; I imagine I'll donate as soon as I
can.
That's about what we know. Sorry the news is so grim, but thanks for
your care and concern. We'll keep you updated if anything else happens (touch
wood).
well hannah john has given you a pretty comprehensive report. We'll no doubt
be watching the news tonight and hoping that nothing else happens. Y'know
there are real advantages to living on Shetland, aren't there?
love aunty b"
I've never in my life felt more relieved to hear from someone.
It was all anyone spoke about for a good few weeks afterwards. A girl in the class my mam assisted with brought in a news report from online that showed where the planes had hit. In my English class we wrote poems about it; mine and one other girl's were later featured in a school anthology of writing (although hers was far superior - mine rhymed, which was probably not appropriate looking back).
That said, as horrifying as the attacks were, the resulting War on Terror generated many innocent victims too, both soldiers and civilians. I remember going to a protest march in early 2003 against the threat of war on Iraq, which was made good a month later - however, since Saddam Hussein was toppled more people have died than were killed in the war before that. Similarly, Osama Bin Laden was killed at the beginning of May this year. Firstly, so many people were killed in the 9 and a half years before they got to him. Secondly, his death will not kill terrorism. If anything it'll make it worse.
So yes, to conclude, the victims of both the events of 9/11 and those that followed were in the back of my mind today. As we discovered when Amy Winehouse died the same day as the massacre in Norway earlier this year, compassion is not a finite resource and it is possible to feel sad about more than one group of people at the same time. That's how I've felt every year since it happened, and that will never change.
Friday, 19 August 2011
Edinburgh Book Fest
Just another quick post to say that Cargo have the Special Delivery event as part of Unbound at the Edinburgh International Book Festival on the 24th. 9pm, Spiegeltent in Charlotte Square, free entry :) See www.cargopublishing.com for details.
30 Days Hath September...and I'm going to be dry for them
***WARNING: This will get a bit detailed***
Well, I've said it on Facebook, and I've said it on Twitter. So now I'm saying it here.
As I mentioned in the last post, I went home a couple of weeks ago. I spent most of it chilling at home, walking the dog, and seeing folk I hadn't seen in months for various reasons. In addition, my mam's cousin had a party to christen her new porch (well, conservatory). We brought a lot of booze, which was stowed away in the wheelbarrow (where there was most space for it), and a marquee was set up in the very large back garden for my brother's band to perform in (it was the first time I'd seen them live).
However, that night I consumed the following in alcohol:
1 x bottle of Stella Artois cidre (not cider, and more delicious for it)
2 x bottle of Magners original apple cider
1x vodka and lemonade which was given to me by someone who'd changed their mind about it and I honestly swear was one part lemonade and three parts vodka
1 x bottle of Corona beer, sans lime
I've just checked my result with Drink Aware, and that comes to be 11 units - this is less than the recommended amount for women to drink per week, but about four times more than the recommend amount per day. Oh dearie me.
I do remember most of the night, mainly because I was watching the band. At one point - even though by this point I was rather drunk - my brother even got me up to join in with the harmonies on 'I Won't Back Down' originally by Tom Petty. I actually did a good job, I'm told. Later in the evening, after the band finished, we went in and the hostess got a batch of her famous Eton Mess on the go. I remember taking loads of it and trying to eat it and dropping it down myself - classy, eh? Anyway, we went home and I got to bed at about 2:15am. Around three hours later I woke up again and ended up being very sick - only the third time I've vommed from drinking. I felt horribly ill for the rest of the day - even a large mug of miso soup failed to shift it. It was a hot day, and I walked down to my cousin's house to return something I'd borrowed from her. It would usually take me about fifteen minutes from hers to mine on foot but felt like an hour, and within five minutes I was given a pint of water because I was so ill / dehydrated. It hadn't shifted by 6pm, when we went to have dinner at the home of my step-granddad and his new wife. It is truly the worst hangover I've ever had, and I hope to god I never have another like it in my life.
This isn't the first time I've had too much to drink and felt the worse for it either. It happened after a flat party we had in April, when I had to work the next day, and I had a huge blowout over a weekend in July - once at a friend's graduation party and the following day / night, firstly with a friend whom I hadn't seen in months and my ex-flatmate, whose birthday it was. Needless to say, I felt like shit on Sunday. There's been a few times - especially when I've had cider, it's massively bad for me - that I've done stuff I don't remember when drunk. On a few occasions I've gone to bed with my contacts in. Anyone else who wears contacts regularly knows how painful that is.
This maybe doesn't sound too untoward for most folk, but I never used to drink to excess. As a teenager my ideal weekend was spent at my granny's eating jam sandwiches and playing Scrabble. I did have the odd night out, but only ever had alcohol on special occasions. I first attempted to buy alcohol six weeks before my 18th birthday and was surprisingly successful. Only after I turned 18 did I realise that the majority of pubs in Shetland weren't big on ID'ing people. I moved to Glasgow that same September, where most places that I actually went to were a bit stricter. As time went on I made more friends and went out more often. Not to say that I didn't drink to excess some nights and do stupid things before that - I once buggered my ankle after tripping on the steps at the Hilltop Bar in Yell (aka The UK's Most Northerly Pub) after vastly misjudging all the booze I'd had. I've apparently once drunkenly burped the alphabet following a binge (I don't remember it, honest), I've said things I shouldn't have said. Again, not unusual. But I used to be able to have a good fun night without alcohol so I'd like to re-experience that.
I only came to this decision earlier in the week, but after getting back to Glasgow I briefly went out for a friend's birthday. I had two vodkas and coke the whole night - having had a pint of straight coke before that - and feel great for it today. So I've decided that attempting to pack in drinking for 30 days might just be a plan.
So yeah - as of September 1st, I am, to coin a phrase, 'aff it'. No booze please. Kthx.
Well, I've said it on Facebook, and I've said it on Twitter. So now I'm saying it here.
As I mentioned in the last post, I went home a couple of weeks ago. I spent most of it chilling at home, walking the dog, and seeing folk I hadn't seen in months for various reasons. In addition, my mam's cousin had a party to christen her new porch (well, conservatory). We brought a lot of booze, which was stowed away in the wheelbarrow (where there was most space for it), and a marquee was set up in the very large back garden for my brother's band to perform in (it was the first time I'd seen them live).
However, that night I consumed the following in alcohol:
1 x bottle of Stella Artois cidre (not cider, and more delicious for it)
2 x bottle of Magners original apple cider
1x vodka and lemonade which was given to me by someone who'd changed their mind about it and I honestly swear was one part lemonade and three parts vodka
1 x bottle of Corona beer, sans lime
I've just checked my result with Drink Aware, and that comes to be 11 units - this is less than the recommended amount for women to drink per week, but about four times more than the recommend amount per day. Oh dearie me.
I do remember most of the night, mainly because I was watching the band. At one point - even though by this point I was rather drunk - my brother even got me up to join in with the harmonies on 'I Won't Back Down' originally by Tom Petty. I actually did a good job, I'm told. Later in the evening, after the band finished, we went in and the hostess got a batch of her famous Eton Mess on the go. I remember taking loads of it and trying to eat it and dropping it down myself - classy, eh? Anyway, we went home and I got to bed at about 2:15am. Around three hours later I woke up again and ended up being very sick - only the third time I've vommed from drinking. I felt horribly ill for the rest of the day - even a large mug of miso soup failed to shift it. It was a hot day, and I walked down to my cousin's house to return something I'd borrowed from her. It would usually take me about fifteen minutes from hers to mine on foot but felt like an hour, and within five minutes I was given a pint of water because I was so ill / dehydrated. It hadn't shifted by 6pm, when we went to have dinner at the home of my step-granddad and his new wife. It is truly the worst hangover I've ever had, and I hope to god I never have another like it in my life.
This isn't the first time I've had too much to drink and felt the worse for it either. It happened after a flat party we had in April, when I had to work the next day, and I had a huge blowout over a weekend in July - once at a friend's graduation party and the following day / night, firstly with a friend whom I hadn't seen in months and my ex-flatmate, whose birthday it was. Needless to say, I felt like shit on Sunday. There's been a few times - especially when I've had cider, it's massively bad for me - that I've done stuff I don't remember when drunk. On a few occasions I've gone to bed with my contacts in. Anyone else who wears contacts regularly knows how painful that is.
This maybe doesn't sound too untoward for most folk, but I never used to drink to excess. As a teenager my ideal weekend was spent at my granny's eating jam sandwiches and playing Scrabble. I did have the odd night out, but only ever had alcohol on special occasions. I first attempted to buy alcohol six weeks before my 18th birthday and was surprisingly successful. Only after I turned 18 did I realise that the majority of pubs in Shetland weren't big on ID'ing people. I moved to Glasgow that same September, where most places that I actually went to were a bit stricter. As time went on I made more friends and went out more often. Not to say that I didn't drink to excess some nights and do stupid things before that - I once buggered my ankle after tripping on the steps at the Hilltop Bar in Yell (aka The UK's Most Northerly Pub) after vastly misjudging all the booze I'd had. I've apparently once drunkenly burped the alphabet following a binge (I don't remember it, honest), I've said things I shouldn't have said. Again, not unusual. But I used to be able to have a good fun night without alcohol so I'd like to re-experience that.
I only came to this decision earlier in the week, but after getting back to Glasgow I briefly went out for a friend's birthday. I had two vodkas and coke the whole night - having had a pint of straight coke before that - and feel great for it today. So I've decided that attempting to pack in drinking for 30 days might just be a plan.
So yeah - as of September 1st, I am, to coin a phrase, 'aff it'. No booze please. Kthx.
Thursday, 4 August 2011
Long overdue update...you know the drill by now
Hellooooooooo!
Sorry I've not written since June. God, didn't realise it had been that long!
So yeah - family wedding has been. And while I am unsure as to just how much weight I have lost, I shed enough that my dress fit me :D And while that's a small victory, I'm sure I could do better, so I'm going to keep up with the swimming / eating better as best I can.
There's also been a few literary excitements in recent months, among them Valve Journal (which I have yet to review), the launch of Tracy S Rosenberg's novel The Girl in the Bunker, which by the way got to No. 1 in the Scottish Bestsellers list :), the release of Andrew Raymond Drennan's new novel The Immaculate Heart, and more recently we re-released "The Year of Open Doors" in paperback.
We then have an event at the Edinburgh International Book Festival - the Special Delivery as part of Unbound. The event is free.
Meanwhile I be back in Shetland at last, firstly for a break and secondly for my gran's 80th :)
Sorry I've not written since June. God, didn't realise it had been that long!
So yeah - family wedding has been. And while I am unsure as to just how much weight I have lost, I shed enough that my dress fit me :D And while that's a small victory, I'm sure I could do better, so I'm going to keep up with the swimming / eating better as best I can.
There's also been a few literary excitements in recent months, among them Valve Journal (which I have yet to review), the launch of Tracy S Rosenberg's novel The Girl in the Bunker, which by the way got to No. 1 in the Scottish Bestsellers list :), the release of Andrew Raymond Drennan's new novel The Immaculate Heart, and more recently we re-released "The Year of Open Doors" in paperback.
We then have an event at the Edinburgh International Book Festival - the Special Delivery as part of Unbound. The event is free.
Meanwhile I be back in Shetland at last, firstly for a break and secondly for my gran's 80th :)
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