When life gets busy...

 It turns out, that I'm not such a writer after all.

While my dream remains to be a published author and write for a living, it turns out that when life gets busy and time is short, the two things on my "to do" list that I drop first are exercise and writing.  

As a result, I've still not got a book or online course finished to a good enough standard for publication, and I'm still a larger dress-size than I'd like.

My top priority is my family:  

Mr Build-it is motoring through Year 7.  He's still got plenty of time for cuddles with his mum, but kisses are already off limits.  He spends a lot of time in his room learning how to programme and is developing and building websites and online games and learning different programming languages.  I try to keep up, and always show an interest, but quite often he is speaking a completely different language.  He appears downstairs whenever he is hungry.  My main task with him is encouraging him to get some daylight and fresh air on a daily basis, though that's got easier as he's discovered that some of his schoolfriends like to meet up at the playpark up the road so he takes himself up there to meet them.

Miss Busy is at that very delicate age where she has subconsciously realised that she's growing up fast, but is not yet ready, and is clinging to childhood.  This means that she's watching terrible kids' TV, and is requiring a lot of parental attention.  I'm also aware that in a very short time she won't be wanting to spend so much time with me - her friends will become more of a priority.  So when she asks me to do something with her, I'm tending to say "yes."  We had a lovely time drawing butterflies together the other day, and, dare I say it, we had fun tidying her bedroom together yesterday.  She's also super-helpful at the moment, and always willing to lend a hand in the kitchen, take the dog out for a walk or hang the laundry - long may it last!

Husband is, as always, very busy with work.  He's also got a lot to do with our Scout Group.  He became Group Scout Leader a year ago and, never one to do a half-job, is determined to have our Group be the best in the District - an example of "how it works".  He's putting in a lot of hours and it's really beginning to show fruit.  Our Group is a happy place to be.

I've recently gone back to the classroom once more.  I'm teaching a lovely Year 5 class who need a great deal of teacher love.  I'm determined to do a good job for these children, so I'm pouring in the effort and the hours of preparation that they deserve.

In the meantime, with Covid19 (fingers crossed) finally receding in threat, we are back face-to-face with our Beavers and Cubs.  After a long break it's taking us a little while to get back in the flow, and I'm also bringing in a lot of new children, and trying hard to get a few more volunteers into the mix.  My County role has had to take a bit of a back seat while this is happening, but I am also still delivering regular adult training courses and attending meetings.

So... with family, school and Scouting all taking a lot of time and energy, and the continuous cycle of groceries, shopping, laundry, school run and dog walks... that hasn't really left a lot of time for writing or crafting (or exercise).  So that's where I am right now.  I'll come back to you next time with an update on how I'm getting along with those craft plans and New Year resolutions.  

The Playful Way - and other stories...

 I'm delighted to report that life "Chez Mel" is pretty good just now.

Out of school...

Earlier this year, during lock-down, I took the plunge and handed in my notice from my teaching job. 

It's something I've been thinking about for quite some time. It isn't that I don't like teaching. I do. I love working with children. To me, teaching children is all about finding that spark, getting them excited about learning and developing their confidence to take on the challenges and discover the world. 

It wasn't that I had a problem with the school either. The school I taught at was rated OfSted Outstanding and is a great school. The staff are caring and incredibly hard-working and do everything they can to make the school a great place to be. 

No, my problem is with the system itself. I think that OfSted and the Government are getting it wrong. The problem is that they are pushing for more and more "measurable" results, but this means that teachers and schools are focusing on teaching the things that are measured. 

The potential is that you can end up with children being taught methods but without necessarily any understanding, and deja vu classrooms:

• if you go into one classroom at 9.15 in the morning, the lesson in the classroom 2 doors along will be structured exactly the same way.  
• The display boards will all have the same information on them. 
• The doors will all have the same poster on them. 
• The maths equipment will all be laid out the same way.

In addition, children that fall behind this rigid routine are taken out for support, but this is almost always during the non-core part of the curriculum - depriving them of the opportunities where they might be able to shine - art, music or computing. 

While I agree that structure and routine are beneficial to many children, and that sharing good practice makes sense, I would argue that this takes the joy and excitement out of school and learning.  

Where is the space for that eccentric teacher so in love with their subject that the children will remember for the rest of their lives? 

Where is the space for spending longer on something that the children have got excited about, or that they need to work on a bit more to cement understanding? 

The flexibility and pleasure is being sucked out of our schools by the insistence that they all achieve more results and tick certain boxes. 

Of course we should weed out poor teachers so that all children have the chance to attain well. 

Of course we should look for quality in our classrooms. 

However, that quality can take many shapes and teachers and children do not come in a one-size-fits-all uniformity. 

While everybody needs to be taught to read and write, they may all learn best in different ways and at different pace, I don't think this is recognised by our education system.

So, off my soap-box... What am I doing now?

...and into writing

I think I've always been a writer. Writing is one of my creative outlets, but I've also found that since I'm able to coherently arrange words on the page, I am often called on to write newsletters, web-content, draft emails and so on. 

I have made some income from writing before, taking on several freelance projects when I was a stay-at-home-mum.

I decided it was time to turn my attention to this once more.

I started off by setting up a new blog - www.the-playful-way.com. The idea was that I could write about something I really believe in - "my niche" - and use it as a spring-board to write a series of books, online courses and articles, as well as being a brand for relaunching my Etsy shop, which I renamed "The Playful Way" and for a tutoring business.

However, I had a bit of a panic about no steady income. I'd assured Husband that within a few months I would be able to bring in as much money freelance as I was as a part-time teacher.

I suddenly didn't see that happening, so jumped at the opportunity for some regular web-content writing for a marketing guy. I was soon writing articles about electric guitars, comparing ecommerce, shipping and project-management platforms, writing about "Best peanut butters for dogs" and different Japanese dog breeds. 

You name it, I was writing about it. The pay was peanuts, there was no by-line, and with all the research and weblinks required, it was taking several hours to write each one. I realised that I'd sacrificed my actual passion and the potential to make real money, for the security of creating click-through content for steady pay.

After three months, I wrote my last piece for this stream of income last Monday.

I'm looking forward to completing my first e-book and course "Making Maths Fun - a guide for parents and teachers" by the end of January. Also back to the blog, and focusing on some other writing projects. This bit is about believing in myself. I know I can do this - I have to hold out for projects that I believe in, or that pay what I'm worth.

...and back into the classroom!

In the meantime, I was also approached by a friend and former colleague. She'd heard that I was doing a bit of tutoring, and wondered if I might be interested in helping out with Phonics Catch-up at the school where she is deputy-head. I'm there to help the children who, due to the covid lock-down last school-year, missed out on learning opportunities, reading material and, for some, even exposure to English. 

I spend two hours each day working with small groups in Key Stage One to support and teach phonics and help them with their reading.

It's a short-term post. I'm hoping to have made enough of an impact by Easter that they will have caught up and be able to read confidently. In the meantime, I feel inspired that I'm able to use my teaching skills to make a real difference to children who really need it.

I've also had a few enquiries about tutoring. However, because I currently run Beavers and Cubs from 4.30pm two evenings each week, and my children have piano lessons on a third evening, as well as all my other Scouting commitments, I have only managed to squeeze one tutoring client in! We're working on her confidence with Maths. 

And in other news...

This post has been a lot about my work life. I think I'll leave it there and post on another occasion about what else is going on... as a mum and wife, with the house, with the pooch and as a volunteer.

A Helping Hand

A Helping Hand

Still in draft form just now.  My Writing Circle prompt this month was "A helping hand" and this is what has come into my head.  We've missed two monthly Writing Circle meetings so far in lockdown and I am delighted that we are having a Zoom meeting this Friday.

picture from Macy's website

A helping hand

As Alice stood, she felt the boat wobble beneath her.  It had been a wonderful trip out for a picnic on the island in the bay.  She steadied herself, grasping her parasol firmly and lifting her skirts with her other hand.  The sea shone into the distance, dancing with sunlight.  The boat-hand who had rowed them across  stood confidently with one foot on the polished side of the boat and the other on the rough and faded beams of the pontoon.  He was holding out a hand to her.  It was rough and calloused.  She brushed past it rudely and stepped up on to the side of the boat.  It lurched ridiculously and she nearly fell but caught her weight with her parasol on the pontoon and quickly stepped across, a flush filling her dainty features.  She quickly mounted the steps and once on the stone wharf looked back down to watch the others stepping from the boat.  She smiled as she saw that Lady Everleigh needed two men to keep her steady while another subtly moved to the other side of the boat to counterbalance her kind and bustling bulk.  Mr Barclay and Mr Morton stepped easily across.  Simpering Miss Perry was frightened and held tightly to the hand that was offered.  Eliza’s eye wandered to the boat-hand.  He intrigued her.  His tanned face perfectly set off those deep brown eyes and his ready smile seemed so natural, so unforced when compared to the company on the boat with their formal niceties.

In the tearoom, the gentle clink of bone china rattled rather than soothed her.  The tea was hot, the cakes to dry and the inane wittering of Miss Perry and Mr Morton was driving her to distraction.  She stood,

“Please excuse me.  I’m just going to take a walk along the wharf.”  They nodded acknowledgement and she was glad nobody proposed to join her.  

On the wharf she watched fishermen arranging their creels, the smell of fish assailing her nostrils from this distance.  The tide was going out and the noxious seaweed detracted from the sun-sparkled sea.  She roamed up one of the steep, narrow lanes, small fishing cottages tightly packed on each side, storerooms below and steps up to front doors.  Small children in faded poplin sat on the steps and gazed at her.  She smiled reassuringly at them, but they scampered up and into the house to peer out around the door after she had passed.  She wandered still further, choosing to continue up the hill or to take a flatter route as her energy level plateaued.  Her mind wandered, considering the options she had before her.  Lady Everleigh had assured her mother that this trip to the coast would help her get over her illness and that she would have her engaged by the time she returned to Hertford.  Alice was perfectly aware of Mr Barclay’s attentions, and Lady Everleigh’s intentions for the pair, and he was certainly an eligible partner – not bereft of sense or manners.  What was the issue then?  She sighed.  It was… just… there was no common understanding or affection…

A noise behind her startled her out of her reverie and she realised that she had strayed into an unkempt narrow street.  The whitewash on these cottages was closer to grey and there were no children.  Just three men, staring at her with hostile eyes.  They were slowly stepping closer.  Alice looked around behind her but there was nowhere to go.  An air of menace permeated the air.  Alice could hardly breathe, her eyes wide and frightened.  Suddenly, they were on her, pushing her up against a wall and pawing at her clothing, pulling laces undone.  At last she found her voice and screamed, before a dirty hand covered her mouth and she was pushed to the floor.

A roar of rage filled the air and the hands holding her down were loosened as a newcomer started hauling the men from her.  They turned to fight but soon scattered at his determined assault.  Alice didn’t dare breathe, just attempted to cover herself with her torn clothes.  A rough and calloused hand was held out to help her up.  She followed the arm up to the deep brown eyes, full of concern and recognised the boat-hand.  She took the hand this time, and he helped her to her feet and wrapped her in his woollen coat.

“Can I take you to my sister’s to get cleaned up, Ma’am?”

“Please, call me Alice.  Thank-you, that would be lovely.”  He continued to support her as they walked along, and before long they were chatting like old friends.

Thoughts on Home working and what we're all doing in the shut-down.

I posted yesterday about Home Learning and how to support the children during this shut-down.

In the meantime, what have I been doing?  As a teacher I am technically a key worker but my underlying kidney disease, vasculitis and immune suppression mean that I am classed as "extremely vulnerable".  I have been home-working since last Wednesday, and as of Monday evening am on the list of people who are not supposed to leave the house for 12 weeks.  

 Each morning I have started with my home-working teaching tasks while the children have been busy with their work.  This involves working with my Year 2 colleagues to compile appropriate work for the children to do from home in each of the subject areas.  As parents email the work in, we note it, respond, post something on the school twitter-feed, post the answers for the parents to be able to mark their work and generally follow up.  We're also taking the opportunity to catch up on paperwork and planning across the school.

After I've done this, I move on to virtual Scouting.  I'm running a Cub Pack and a Beaver Colony so I'm regularly posting activities or badge work that children can be getting on with at home.  I'm looking forward to running a virtual meeting on a video-call platform too so they all get to see one another.  We'll probably have a go at that next week.  

In my County Scout role I'm rearranging adult training modules so that people can pick up on them after the shut-down, but also supporting people to use this opportunity while they are at home to do some e-learning and get their training validated.

Once I've done this I move on to writing.  I'm trying to warm-up my skills a bit by entering writing competitions.  I know that I'm unlikely to win any prizes but the discipline of a deadline and trying out writing in different genres is quite refreshing.  I've entered a Travel Writing one so far, and am now working on an entry for a humorous poetry competition.  Also the fact that I'm stuck indoors, I can stretch my wings a bit here on my blog.

Each day I'm also making sure that I get some exercise.  I've returned to my old favourite Claire Sweeney Slimming World DVD but also had a go at Joe Wicks does PE this morning with the children.  I'm attempting to tame a mature and somewhat wild garden, starting with a patch that Miss Busy has asked to adopt.  Also, the house hasn't been so clean since just after we moved in.  We do have some decorating to do but, while the sun is shining, the garden gets priority.

Plus, of course, spending time with my children.  Making sure that they are getting some of their schoolwork done and not spending all day in front of a screen.  Making sure that they are okay.

What are you all doing during this shut-down?  What does your day look like?

Writing Circle Exercise - The Coop

The exercises (or workshops) we do at our Writing Circle are always entertaining.  You get a title, nothing more, and then you have about ten to fifteen minutes to come up with something.  After that, we all take it in turns to read out what we've written.  They are never the same, we all come at things from different angles, with different experiences and different writing styles.  This one was no exception.  It was the homework exercise from the last meeting.  As I hadn't been at the last session and didn't know the homework title, I wrote mine in the first five minutes of the session, while waiting for others to arrive.  Rob had written a play on words between chicken coop, co-operative and military coup.  Sheila wrote about a holiday home on the beach in Australia, called the Coop.
Here was my effort:

Henrietta de Lacey-Bonnington looked around narrowly.  These newcomers needed to understand the pecking order around here.  They were asleep just now, feathers puffed up and eyelids relaxed.  If she had anything to do with it that wouldn't last long.  Henrietta cast her eye along the perch, remembering all the names: Carla Orpington, Delilah Tracey, she couldn't recall the next two, they weren't much of anything.  Finally she got to Celia and clucked angrily to herself.  There was no denying she was a spring chicken.  Her white fluffy feathers moved gently in the air from the ventilation.  Her feet were clean and smart, her comb erect and bright pink.  Henrietta's mind whirred.  There was no way she could allow the great and handsome Sir Gordon Bantham-Jones to meet this young upstart.  There would have to be some feathers ruffled.  Some good solid hen-pecking should knock her down a peg or two.  Henrietta sniffed, she must remain top of the coop.

photo from raising-happy-chickens.com 

Writing exercise - Create your own celebration day

As you know, there are celebration days for pretty much anything these days, from National Talk Like a Pirate Day - 19th September this year if you need to know, the US has a National Fossil Day on October 13th and June 4th this year is UK National Cheese Day.  So surely we can invent our own National Day?
How about National Eat Jelly on the Beach Day?
Or The International Day of Hygge?

For the first exercise today I'm going to focus on the International Day of Hygge.

If your day had a website, what would be on the home page?

1. An explanation of the word Hygge - for the uninitiated.
2. Pictures such as hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows on top (preferably the person drinking the hot chocolate should be curled up on a very comfortable sofa with sheepskins, blankets and cushions, should be wearing comfortable clothes and fluffy socks and should have some whipped cream from the hot choc on their nose.  They should be smiling and laughing with a friend or three and there should be a log burner lit and snow falling outside the window.
3. A list of things you might do to achieve Hygge.

I've just looked this up actually, and found that I'm not the first to have this wonderful idea.  There is an International Hygge Day on 28th February, and a UK Hygge Day on 1st March.

What personal story could you contribute to your Celebration Day website?

I would describe a Hygge Day I had spent:  

I was a teenager, living with my family.  On this particular day I went out with a group of friends.  We drove to a pebble beach in a nearby town.  We were all wrapped up warm for the wintry weather.  We walked and chatted.  We sat on the pebbles, threw some into the sea and just enjoyed one another's company.  The sea was grey and serious looking as it crashed up the steep bank of pebbles.  Once our hands were thoroughly chilly we headed back to the car.  On the way home we stopped in a traditional tea-shop.  It was all tablecloths and doilies, proper pots of steaming tea and wonderfully huge slabs of creamy cakes.  The windows were steamed up and it was beginning to get dark outside.  We chatted and laughed and ate and drank and it was a wonderful day.

What would you do to celebrate your next Hygge Day?

I would want to spend it with friends and our children.  I'd like to have the fire lit, fresh bread in the oven, a stew in the slow cooker.  The children would be playing outdoors or upstairs with the Lego.  We'd have our crochet hooks and wool and could crochet and natter and eat all day long while the children play.

The glasses lay beside their case

Another prompt from my Writers' Circle.  This time the prompt was: The glasses lay beside their case on a small table - an open book alongside.  For me this one sparked a memory, and I immediately started to write a memoir.  

Members of my family will recognise the couple involved, we all miss them.

The glasses lay beside their case on a small table - an open book alongside.  My dad edged over and picked up the glasses, depositing them behind a card on the mantelpiece.  I saw him from the corner or my eye, but at the time thought nothing of it.  Meme bustled in from the kitchen, a flurry of tweed and twinset, lips pursed and silver hair in neat curls.  She set the tea-tray on top of the open book on the little table and poured into clinking cups and saucers, the tea leaves collecting in the strainer.  I stood to join her, carefully pouring drops of milk from the dainty floral jug.  Grandpa bowled in behind us and sat in his special chair, "Ooohhh, I love to see all my wonderful family.  God bless."  His wrinkled face creased into a smile of joy as I bent to hug him, breathing in the scent of soap and grandpa cologne.  Delicately drinking our tea, my sisters and I sprawled across the thick carpet, playing cards.  We all loved this house and these wonderful people.  Meme bustled out again with the tea tray and my sisters, game now complete, followed to help in the kitchen.  Grandpa was regaling Mum and Dad with the latest news from friends in France.  He had the letter in front of him, and effortlessly translated excerpts from the neat French script.  Meme was back, grey eyes looking worriedly over the half moon glasses glinting on the end of her nose.  "Are you alright Mum?" asked my own mum, halfway to her feet.
"Darling?"  Grandpa looked up with a tender query.
"Has anybody seen my specs?"  I couldn't help the laugh escaping,
"They're on your nose, Meme!"  She looked up distractedly and then smiled sheepishly.
"Not those ones dear.  My reading glasses.  I need them for a recipe.  I'm sure I was sitting in here reading earlier."  My dad tried to hide a smile as he asked innocently,
"You haven't lost your glasses again?  You're always losing your glasses."  Her face immediately transformed from worried fretting to mock annoyance as she realised what had happened.  She wagged her finger at my dad.  This had been a standing joke and tradition for as long as I could remember.  She was notorious for losing her specs and my dad made the most of it, hiding them whenever he spotted a pair.
"You," she scolded, "are my most wicked son-in-law.  Which is probably why I love you."
Do you have fond memories of your grandparents?

Some things are worth the wait

Another one of my Writers' Circle exercises.  I wasn't sure where to go with this prompt, and opted for a bit of romance...

As the underground train jerked into movement, Louise looked around.  She loved people watching on the underground.  There were so many interesting people and all of them had their heads down, studiously ignoring all the other passengers and making absolutely sure not to make eye contact.  She would guess who they might be and where they were going.  Her eye passed over some professional types on their way home from the office with their eyes glued to their kindle or book and alighted on a group of teenagers talking loudly about their plans for the evening and their friends.  After shamelessly listening in to their conversation for a few minutes they got off and headed for the cinema.  Her eyes wandered through the carriage to the busker, he’d finished his tune on the clarinet, and was moving among the other passengers rattling a few coins in a cup.  Hang on a minute… Her attention fixed on the man who had just dropped a couple of coins into the busker’s cup.  Did she know him?  Her eyes fixed on him and she tried to place the face.  In the six years she had lived in London and travelled the tube she had never yet come across somebody she actually  knew, but several times had almost thought she had.  Once, early on, she’d been convinced that she saw her husband, and then remembered that Derek had moved to Spain with Philippa.  It had never been a happy marriage, just a quick fix because she’d got pregnant. Once Ed had grown up and left home, Derek told her that he had fallen in love with their next door neighbour and she had let him go with few regrets and gone to London where she could more easily pursue a career that had been on hold throughout her marriage.  

photo from The Evening Standard

This man on the train was handsome in a Judge-John-Deed way, his grey hair suiting his brown eyes.  The busker had said something funny at that end of the carriage and the eyes crinkled into a smile.  She glanced at her reflection in the train window.  Her own face showed a few wrinkles, and grey roots were visible in her blonde bob.  She couldn’t shake the feeling that she recognised him from somewhere and kept glancing at him thoughtfully until she reached her stop. 

“Louise?” the deep voice carried down the platform from behind her.  She turned.  It was the man she’d been trying to place so she did know him, but still couldn’t quite place where.

He came towards her, a half smile playing on his lips and dancing in his eyes.  “Well of all the people to run into.”

“I know I know you,” Louise began to confess,

“But you don’t know where from,” he finished with a gleeful smile.  “Think back 34 years.  You promised you’d love me forever.”  Colour drained from Louise’s face and then flushed back deepest crimson.

“Tom! I can’t believe I didn’t recognise you.”  She was grinning broadly now.  “I was watching you on the train.  I thought I knew you from somewhere but couldn’t be sure.”  She certainly knew him now.  She and Tom had declared undying love for one another aged 18.  They had almost got engaged but both sets of parents had stepped in and told them they were too young.  They went their separate ways to University and while they tried to maintain a long-distance relationship, they were young and had drifted apart.  Tom’s parents had moved away too, so they didn’t even meet in the holidays.  Over the years Louise had sometimes thought of Tom and wondered where he had ended up and what had happened to him.

They caught up over coffee.  Tom was a lawyer, as he always dreamed he would be, and had married and had three daughters.  Louise was saddened to hear that his wife had died of cancer five years earlier.  She told him about Ed, and about Derek and Philippa.  They arranged to meet the next day and headed home.  The next day’s meeting turned into another date set, and then another and another.  Three months later as they exchanged vows in a registry office, Tom and Louise looked at one another with a smile and both said together, “Some things are worth the wait.”

What would you write about with the prompt, "Some things are worth the wait?"

Do you remember that photo we took?

Do you remember that photo we took?
The one where we sat on the stairs?
There was you Dad, and mum, and the three of us girls, 
dancing and putting on airs.



I think I was twelve or maybe thirteen,
and my dress sense was truly awful
I'm not sure that torn jeans and bright yellow wellies
have even been sane or lawful.



You were in the middle, smiling and happy,
Mum looked tired but managed a smile
the three of us girls just for a change
did as bid and came together a while.



Was there an occasion or special purpose?  
Or did you just want time to freeze?
We were all growing fast and doing our thing,
to get us together and make us say cheese.



I'm glad you did it anyway,
I look back at pictures taken by you.
You managed to get the three girls together 
and capture us as we grew.


Three little girls at a birthday party, 
three little girls on a train.
Three little girls on a holiday,
or standing out in the rain.

Three teenage girls looking mawkish,
three teenage girls in the sun.
Three teenage girls at a wedding,
smiling and having fun.

Now its three grown women and their children,
you capture at least once a year,
Getting together at a party
Those moments are never drear.

Do you remember that photo we took?
The one we sat on the stairs?
I'm glad you made us sit there,
your three little girls on the stairs.

I wrote this poem in about 15 minutes at our latest meeting of Hereford Writers' Circle.  I find rhyming poetry challenging and usually avoid it, but I thought I'd give it a go.  I'm not entirely satisfied, particularly with the rhythm, but I did like the sentiment, so I thought I'd share.

Make more of May - a quick life update

May is one of those months that everybody likes.  In May the weather takes a definite turn towards Summer, plants and flowers start growing, BBQs are dusted off, people spend more time outdoors and soak up a bit of well-earned sunshine and warmth.

I thought I'd take the opportunity to give a brief update on what's going on with me, and where life is currently going, especially for those of you that were concerned by my post back in February, where I shared that there were problems with the health of my kidneys being investigated, but I've not mentioned them since!

Let's do the health thing first.  At the kidney biopsy in February I was told that I would hear the results at my  next appointment in three weeks time, unless the results were urgent.  I got a phone-call from the Renal specialist three days later.  It turns out I have a type of Vasculitis called microscopic polyangiitis.  Vasulitis is where the immune system decides to start attacking the blood vessels.  There are lots of different varieties, and microscopic polyangiitis involves the blood vessels in the kidneys, and occasionally the lungs.  So my immune system had started attacking my kidneys, which were inflamed.  They wanted to start treatment right away.  The treatment involves starting on a hefty whack of steroids, which they taper down quite quickly because of the side-effects, and also giving a low-dose chemotherapy type drug infusion every three weeks for ten cycles.  Both of these treatments can have lots of side-effects so they keep a close eye on you, and also give lots of other drugs to try to reduce the side-effects as much as possible.  It means that I trek up to Birmingham every three weeks for the infusion, and again in between for a clinic visit, and also have a blood test here in Hereford mid-cycle.  Its a bit of a long-term illness - it should be in remission by the end of the ten cycles in the Summer, after which the treatment reduces to a maintenance dose.  I'm not sure how long that goes on for, but I think they monitor things and making sure there are no relapses over a couple of years and then gradually try withdrawing the treatment.  I've now had four treatments with the cyclophosphomide infusion, and am due my fifth on Tuesday, and the steroid dose has been reduced from 60mg per day to 20mg over the course of the treatment so far.  

I have to say there have been moments where the whole thing has been a bit overwhelming.  I mean, I'm 37 and previously healthy, reluctant even to take paracetamol most of the time.  Then suddenly I have this long-term illness and am chucking back so many tablets that I think I'm rattling.  Having seen some of the other folks at the clinics and in the infusion suite though, I think I've had it pretty easy.  First of all, thanks to the vigilance of my optician and the competence of the doctors, my illness was picked up and diagnosed very quickly.  I had already seen the specialist before I even felt unwell!  I'm also getting off fairly lightly with the treatments.  I get the impression that others can react pretty badly to it, or get many more side-effects.  I feel a little fuzzy, shaky and very tired the evening and next day after a cyclo infusion, and am getting other side-effects, but nothing serious, and am still managing to work full time.  My side-effects have included sleepless nights - I think that's the steroids.  I've been waking very early in the morning (like between 2 and 4am) and have often been up by 4.30am - also leading to me being pretty grumpy by the time I pick the children up from school at 5.30pm.  Luckily as the steroid dose has been reduced, this seems to be an improving situation.  I get puffy legs as the day wears on, the skin on my hands has gone papery and thin, I've got spotty, I've got a fat face, I've had bouts of nausea (better now, as they changed one of the drugs) and I have AN ENORMOUS APPETITE!  Seriously, I'm hungry all the time.  I lost quite a bit of weight in the few weeks before the biopsy, but have now put it all back on.  One of my  missions for May (and June, July, August etc), is now that the steroid dose is coming down, I've really got to get in control of my eating and try to shift some of the weight back off.  I can't do much about the vasculitis, but  I can make sure that the rest of my lifestyle is healthy.

my fat face today out walking the dog.

Family

My family is lovely.  They've had a bit of a hard time over the last few months, as I've been tired and grumpy.  To be honest, Bug doesn't seem to notice much of the time, but  then she surprises me by making me a card asking "ar you ok?".  C gets more worried, and when he can see that I'm tired or feeling unwell, gives me big cuddles.  I've been trying my best to make sure the house is still clean and tidy, the dog is walked, we have clean clothes and food at the right times, but there have been times when all I've managed to do when I get home from work is curl up on the sofa, and leave it all to Hubby.  Despite my mood swings and fluctuating energy levels, he has kept going with everything.  The whole thing does seem to have sparked a bit of "living for the moment", and we've fulfilled a couple of dreams by going on holiday to Venice, and ordering a brand-new VW Camper.  Hopefully we'll keep on with that - I like that we're getting on with living right now. 

We like Herefordshire, it's a beautiful place to live.  We're still hoping to sell the house in Scotland (sooner rather than later) but currently have tenants in there and are renting down here.  We can't wait to finally buy a house here and make it into our own home - because we know we aren't planning to stay here we aren't doing anything that would need undoing at the end of the tenancy, it feels very temporary.  I'm pretty sure we'll be in this place at least until the end of the Summer, so another thing to do in May will be to get some veggies and flowers in the garden.  Last year I got a few tubs and pots around the place, and I hope to make use of some pallets and extend that this year, allowing space for the children to have their own planting area too if possible.  We can either take them with us or bin them when we finally do move.

Work - I'm really enjoying being back at work, though obviously with all the trips to doctors and hospital, blood tests and feeling unwell or tired it hasn't all been easy.  I'm currently covering a maternity leave at a tiny little school in rural Herefordshire teaching Reception Class.  It was a challenging start, as there were two classes sharing one classroom, which was slightly chaotic to say the least!  Things are now looking much better, as I have a huge classroom, which is beginning to look more like the way a Reception Classroom is supposed to look (though getting resources ordered via our "umbrella" school is unbelievably slow - we are definitely the poor dependent!).  In professional terms I am really enjoying the challenge of teaching a different age-range.  The LEA are coming in to moderate my EYFS judgements on the little lovelies at the end of May, and while I'm hoping that I'll learn from the experience, I'm also hoping that it won't be too much of a learning curve and that they'll agree with most of my judgements.  I'm feeling pretty good because I've already done a lot of the evidence gathering and preparation work ready for that, and by doing so, it will also put me ahead of the game when it comes to writing EYFS Profiles and school reports towards the end of term.

In the meantime, I'm also applying for jobs for September.  Watch this space to see how I get on with that!  

Everything else - writing, crafts, model railway, Scouting, making stuff - It will come as no surprise having read all the above, that my writing, my crafting, the model railway (which came out of storage a couple of months ago), and all the other projects with which I like to fill my life, have taken a definite back seat over the last few months.  I am still required to make things by my demanding daughter, and do my best to fulfil her requests, but am also trying to teach her that with many demands on my time, I need to prioritise, and making a cat costume is lower on the priority list than filling in a job application!  I hope to get back to all these things of course, but just now getting fit and healthy, spending time with the family and keeping up at work are my three top priorities - in that order.

What are you up to in your life at the moment?  How are you getting on with your life dreams and priorities?

Developing Children's Creative Writing

What is Creative Writing?

Creative writing is difficult to define.  It is the art of making things up; illuminating truths about the world and the people in it in an interesting and attractive way.  Creative writing is original and self- expressive.  Genres of creative writing include poetry, movie or play scripts, song lyrics and novels.

Why is Creative Writing important?

Creative writing develops thinking in children which extends far beyond their writing.  Being able to think creatively means being able to think outside the box and use imagination, which is essential for all types of problem solving.  

Creative writing is also a useful outlet for self-expression – sometimes it’s hard to work your way through a problem, express your feelings, or work out your own morals, but writing it down as a problem for a character to face, or in poetry or song lyrics helps to work it through and get it out.  

Thinking about characters, their motivations and feelings helps to develop empathy.  

Being able to express yourself clearly will lead to a lifetime of clear communication.

How to develop Creative Writing in children.

Most of these activities are for Primary School children, and can be done in class or workshop situations, but there’s nothing to stop them from being adapted and used at home or with younger or older children or even adults.

• ·       The most important thing to do to develop creativity is to get lots of experience.  It’s difficult to write about a beach on a far-off planet, or a treasure island, if you’ve never been to the seaside or seen the ocean.  It’s difficult to write convincingly about something happening at a football match if you’ve never been to one.  While extensive reading, and watching television and films, can begin to bridge this gap, it’s no substitute for real first-hand experience.  While it’s true that if you lead a cloistered life, you can still write beautiful creative fiction or poetry simply by sticking to what you do know, or by creating something entirely from the realm of fantasy, wide experience gives you a lot more to draw from.
• ·         Role play helps children to think through how characters might react to different situations, and how dialogue works.  Extended role play helps them to think about what makes a good story – a role play game of mums and dads where they get up, go to work and make dinner is all well and good for a while, but children soon work out that things get a lot more interesting if there is conflict or a problem to solve.
• ·         Encourage children to describe using all of their senses.  A walk in the woods – what can you hear?  What do you see?  What colours are all around you?  What do you smell?  What does the air taste of?  What do the tree trunks feel like?  What does this peach smell like, taste like, feel like, look like and sound like?
• ·         Pick any object or phenomenon and come up with as many similes and metaphors as you can.  For example, “this daffodil… is like a patch of summer… is like a beam of sun… is like a smiling face… is a fresh faced child on a spring morning…”  “The wind… is like a toddler tantrum, fierce and loud… is like a rollercoaster ride… is like a bully in the playground…”
• ·         Start creative journaling.  Regularly open the journal to a new page and write something.  It might be a description of the view outside, a story opening, a descriptive passage about an imaginary character, or a poem.  Anything you like, as long as it’s unique and expressive.
• ·         Create a character together.  Pick a name at random from the phone book.  How old do you think this person might be?  What’s their ethnic background?  What’s their family situation?  What kind of person are they? What do they look like?
• ·         Take the previous suggestion to the next level.  Either using a character from a known story, or an invented character – start to think about how they would behave in different situations.  Is their bedroom tidy?  How would they behave at a football match?  Would they make a good friend?  If you lived next door, what would their garden be like?  Would they feed your fish while you were away?
• ·         Once they can describe a person, an object or a situation using all their senses and some wonderful descriptive adjectives and similes, it’s time to introduce them to ”show, don’t tell”.  Think about their character eating a peach.  We could tell: “He ate a juicy peach”, or we could show: “He bit into the peach, and hurriedly wiped away the sticky juice that dribbled down his chin” which also gives information about the character and how he might be feeling.
• ·         When you’re reading stories and poems together, stop and think about what description the author or poet has used.  How do they describe the character?  How have they begun the story?  How have they brought it to an end?  Is their dialogue long and descriptive or short and punchy?  How do we know how the character is feeling in this situation?

There is so much to include in this topic, that we’ve only really covered description of place and character, and haven’t even got started on plot development or poem structure, which is going to have to form the basis of a future blog post.  Children are innately creative and imaginative, so developing creative writing is simply about harnessing that, getting them to use what they see around them, and find the words to put it on paper as written art.