Author, editor, attempter of this thing called life. Social anxiety warrior. Re-Connections, a collection of short stories, published with Ocelot Press, 15/10/2025.
The excitement in these parts knows no bounds. Pictures are all over Facebook. Schools are closed. Workplaces, too. News broadcasts are almost entirely about this.
“What happened?” you might ask.
“It’s snowing.”
“So what?”
“So what! This is Jerusalem. The whole city has closed down. People come from all over the country to see the city covered in white – if they can manage to get here. And you say, so what!”
Besides, how many people can say they’ve seen oranges growing in snow?
One morning during November, I took time out from writing my NaNo novel and went to check out a different dancing group – not the one I usually go to.
I had my doubts about it from the start because it was advertised as a group for over sixties and I wasn’t sure I wanted that segregation. It was much more serious than my usual group. They concentrated on one dance and discussed each step, telling us exactly how it should be performed – back straight, face the front and so on.
I understood that the result would be pleasant to watch because all the dancers would be doing exactly the same, but wasn’t sure I wanted to put in that amount of effort. I go dancing to have fun.
We had to hold hands. In my usual group we’re sometimes told to hold hands. I generally don’t and I’m not the only one. When I don’t yet know a dance properly I’m afraid of making a mistake when holding hands and bumping into my neighbour. When I know the dance and my neighbour doesn’t, I don’t enjoy being bumped into. In this group we had no choice.
But the thing that bothered me the most was when one of the instructors (there were two for this small group) discussed a step called: step step jump. She said they don’t actually lift the foot off the ground at the jump. She said at our age we shouldn’t be jumping – that it’s bad for us.
That was when I decided I definitely wouldn’t be returning to that group. I enjoy dancing because I like to jump around and have fun. How can that be bad for me?
While America is gorging itself for Thanksgiving and the rest of the world is busy stocking up on Christmas presents, we’re celebrating Chanukah. And doing a bit of gorging ourselves.
The photo I posted last year came out so well, I had to post it again.
Along with my favourite of all the Chanukah songs, although I didn’t find a version I really liked.
I did it! It was quite a struggle, but I made it. And this time it’s a novel that’s worth working on.
After having a well-deserved rest catch up with washing, ironing, etc. for a day or two, I’m going to start on it. Hooray!
No time to blog, but I had to tell you I’ve just about caught up.
Only 3 days left. I might just make it!
Day 10 and – amazingly – I’m still on target. This is what it looks like:
This is what it looked like last year:
By day 10 I was beginning to fall behind.
I hope I can keep this up. As usual, I’m not sure I have enough to say to reach 50,000.
Not yet three o’clock on day 1 and I’ve reached my target for today.
Wait a mo while I pat myself on the back.
But that was day 1. I knew exactly what I wanted to write, so I just went ahead and wrote it – not exactly straight through from beginning to end, because I never write like that. When I reached the end of chapter 1, I went back and padded it out. If anyone says that’s not how you’re supposed to do NaNo, I’ll say: hard luck, that’s how I’m doing it.
What about the other days? What’s going to happen when I get to the sticky middle and can’t decide how to continue? I don’t know. I’ll cross those stepping stones when I come to them. If I fall off, I’ll just climb back on.
In the meantime, I’m happy. 🙂
Hope you are, too.
Cock-a-doodle doo!
I don’t know what to do.
Nano starts in just a week
And my brain is made of goo.
See what I mean?
Here’s the problem:
I want to tell you all about my trip to Japan, about the things we did, the people we saw, the food we ate. BUT my mind and my notes are all in a mess, my photos are all over the place. I have a lot of sorting out to do first. And I’m still in limbo – half there and half here.
And that’s not all.
NaNoWriMo is only a week away and I want to do it again. I have part of the plot, but there’s plenty more to plan and research.
So I think Japan will have to be put on hold for a while, although I can tell you some random facts.
The trip lasted for 3 weeks and we were kept busy all the time. We saw temples, shrines, museums. We made our own sushi and chopsticks, and were shown how they make sake, paint kimonos, etc. We travelled on trains and buses, and spent a night with families in a village, so we saw how people live. We spent a night in a Buddhist monastery. We saw children and adults perfoming traditional and other music, dance and plays.
We spent three weeks with a group of Israelis – a feat in itself – and our Japanese guide, who didn’t know how to relate to us at first, but was friendly by the end.
Certain sounds are still ringing in my ears. Cuckoos and other bird tweets every time the pedestrain light was green. Arigato gozaimas – thank you – spoken thousands of times a day. And our guide’s “and then” used to join sentences, whether it fitted what she was saying or not.
Please ask if there’s anything in particular you want to know, and I’ll try and answer in another post.
I wasn’t expecting to go abroad three times in one year, but somehow it worked out that way.
See you on the other side!
This is the twelfth and last in a series of posts describing my recent trip to England, Ireland, the Netherlands and Wales, from writing course to school reunion and more.
During the whole trip, which lasted just over a month, the only serious rain I saw was in Swansea, where I stayed with J, a friend from school. In fact, the rain began falling as we crossed the border into Wales and lasted to the next day. But even there in Wales, in my experience the land of constant rain, it cleared up and got quite hot.
But as we wheeled our cases to her abode, the downpour got heavier. Perhaps we should have taken a taxi in the end.
The next day, after visiting the busy market, I had my first ever experience of a gym. J let me choose the class, and I decided on something with music. I had no idea what I’d let myself in for.
Steps. It’s amazing what you can do with a little bench. Up, down, step, jump, left, right. However exhausted you are, you have to keep going, because everyone else is. Of course, they were all used to it, and they were all younger than us. I think we both managed very well.
Two things I noticed, both connected to my folk dancing experience. One was that, on the few occasions I glanced at J, I saw she was having more trouble following the steps than I was. It shows I’ve learnt something in my 15 years of folk dancing.
On the other hand, the instructor mostly performed the exercises with his back to us. But sometimes he turned round to face us, and when he did that he performed the exercises the other way round, stepping onto his left leg when we had to use the right, and so on. It was supposed to make it easier for us, because that way we used the leg that was on the same side as his.
But I’m used to dancing in a circle, where this isn’t possible. I’ve got used to translating: when the instructor is opposite me, I use the leg that’s on the other side from his. I think I’m making this sound more complicated than it is, but the outcome was that I got confused trying to follow him when he was facing us, and preferred to follow the girl in front of me.
We also had tea at the top of the Meridian Tower, and I went shopping for a few things to take back.
Alone on the train back to London, I again had an opportunity to be a writer, this time using my ears. The first speaker, into a mobile phone, had a gorgeous, lilting Welsh accent. I think it’s the best English accent (i.e. accent of the English language) there is.
“All right?”
“Is that all right?”
“So I’ll see you then.”
“Bye bye.”
“Tara.”
Later on, back in England, there were three girls behind me. I observed them as I returned from buying refreshments. They were all slim, all holding smart phones. One of them had nail varnish out on her little table. Later, while I was sitting, one of them stretched her legs out. I saw black suede shoes with very high heels. I’ve never understood how women can wear such monstrosities.
I wrote down random things they said – the ones I was able to understand.
“I just got another email.”
“He’s nice isn’t he?”
“Would you want to do two 18-hour shifts?”
“I’m just doing my other hand.”
“Haha, oh my god.”
“Yeah, we would just go to another cocktail bar.”
“It just bothered me? And I couldn’t even work out why it bothered me? So much?”
Then there was the race across London trying to catch a train to Luton Airport that I missed, but it didn’t matter because I had enough time, and even bought and ate a final egg mayonnaise sandwich before boarding the plane that took me…
As the plane taxied to its stopping place, El Al played the song that goes: “So good you came home,” and I smiled, knowing I was finally…
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