NaNoWriMo – one I prepared earlier, and felt I couldn’t give until now . . .

‘Saturday 6 December 2019.

‘It’s difficult to move on from NaNoWriMo.  I can’t round it up, in my mind.

‘I thought it was terrible, really.

‘I’ve escaped from there by the skin of my teeth, and I don’t want to go back, not at the moment.

‘I didn’t want to send those 50,000-odd words up the validation spout, and then I couldn’t anyway because that part of the site was broken.

‘They had a poll and I said the lack of validation hadn’t spoilt my – experience – of NaNo, but, really – it needed to be there or people could make up any number they wanted.

‘Of course.

‘I didn’t buy a mug.

‘By the end of it, I didn’t want a mug.

‘I didn’t want a t-shirt, but then I don’t wear t-shirts – I used to, back in the day, but I prefer blouses now (loose).

‘I hate to betray my age-group, but NaNo is for young people.

‘And I lost a lot of data because I didn’t manage the site very well.

‘But that doesn’t matter – I lost site-data, not my own – I still have my 50,031 words plus some – I’ve jotted into that Word document (where I have it) more words, directional words, reminder words as they have occurred to me after the end of NaNo.

‘NaNoWriMo is a money-making machine – but wait – it’s non-profit, isn’t it?

‘I don’t know how that works.

‘I have the words.

‘I don’t want to be too critical.

‘I have more words there, which are far-ranging due to the forced-march aspect of it – not just one novel-length there –

‘When I go back, I’ll keep what is there – the general organisation that it is – at arm’s length.

‘Hated NaNo.’

The thing is you get sick of beating around the bush.

If you are from a Northern English town where your culture has been seen, through that North/South divide, as being blunt to a point of –

not having any finesse, not knowing the meaning of ‘acceptability’ – in effect, being on the fringes of society –

and, you are getting on in years at last – you always thought that, once you were 70 or beyond, you couldn’t expect to be alive, even – three-score-years-and-ten and all that – a system of religion to which you have been well-exposed but not officially slotted-into further than bare essentials (being Christened in a church; marrying in one; being buried or cremated through one, hopefully (not going to happen)) –

and you’re close to that point of biblical old-age (the definition of which you did internalise) – and, after all, you wish you could look forward to more time, because you haven’t said everything yet –

and according to that, you only have another couple of years . . .

And then the whole landscape around you changes – what used to be local industries become obsolete –

and so many different cultures are admitted and overlay yours –

and you wish you could just say it as it is.

But you do and people don’t get it anyway –

(not necessarily about that but about something else).

And you’re bursting with what you really think –

But you don’t want to be had up –

And your language is quaint, if you let it in . . .

A visitor this weekend.

How to cook for someone else.

Conversation – it has been so long.

The words are not there.

Or misunderstood.

I feel my way, still spaced out after NaNoWriMo, which I didn’t want to mention again.

But I have talked about it with the visitor.

I feel not normal.

I feel tactless, and as though that is my normal state – why can’t people understand?

Some awful stories and I know I have had myself wrapped up here, cocooned.

It is lucky for me that I have somewhere to warm myself, and that I am not standing on some street corner, screaming.

I talk to myself quite a lot these days.

Oh, I know what it must look like.

But, as I go round my daily – things – chores (don’t like that) – what-I-dos (that ‘dos’ doesn’t look like a plural ‘do’ but something I should have learned long ago – maybe ‘things’ have moved on since then . . .)

Mm.  Talking to myself helps reinforce questions, answers, important thoughts . . . (lots of ‘dot, dot, dot’s these days, also – what can it mean?

Those poles, those poles . . .

Just playing around.  Memories.


All seems to be quiet at the moment, but I’m not sure if I’ve finally fixed it.

I know that lots of people are accepting ad-sense, but these – pop up in the most awkward spots – cover the right-hand bottom third of the screen (I work on a desk-top) making it extremely difficult to write, click on anything at all in that part of the screen; they appear on YouTube (you have difficulty adjusting the volume), the Google Search page the minute you click on anything (can’t access your bookmarks very well) – whoever might think that pop-up ads might be a good idea – a source of revenue, think again.

You make it difficult for anyone to use their computers at all – these things even found their way on to my Word documents, and into my main notification box (bottom right of the screen), alongside my usual notification that there was no malware on my computer!

I think I might have found what was causing it – a free radio station, which I hadn’t clicked on at all – but I’m not sure because it was there for some time before the pop-ups got in on the act.

But this is a scrawl – I’ve suddenly been missing for a few days after being here pretty much regularly.