compliment? 23 May 2008
I was in a local Dublin shop today buying milk (and a sneaky packet of cheese and onion Taytos – yup, he’s away) and pretending I didn’t exist. The two lads ahead of me were right Dubs and as they left one said to the other ‘that’s that bird off of Father Ted’ – actually it sounded more like ‘dats dat burd offa Fawder Ted’. And you know what? I was delighted. I know ‘bird’ is regarded by some as a pejorative term (I hope that means bad in some way or other. The dictionary is up in the attic and I haven’t got the strength to climb up there again today and get it and the cat refuses to shout down the meaning of the word to me, although I know she has looked it up – I heard her sniggering) but it could have been so much worse for me…I could have heard ‘there’s that auld wan offa Fr Ted’. So today I am happy with bird/burd. And, yes, I have been called much worse. Oh yes.
noise 22 May 2008
I have always thought I could write anywhere, as long as I had a souped-up laptop and a bit of inspiration. Noise doesn’t necessarily distract me or bother me overly. I remember sitting at my bro and sis-in-law’s table in Saff Land’n tapping away while swatting off small ketchupy hands (their kids’ mitts not the bro’s nor the sis-in-law’s) during parts of at least the first 3 novels I wrote. With the right will/drive/terror of a deadline I can function pretty well anywhere. And when your writing hours and times are as seemingly random as mine that’s a good thing. (I will insist on that parallel acting career and so take jobs that eat a bit into the time available and am my own worst enemy, as an author – on the plus side I am out and about and learning all sorts which may or may not be usable in the writing career…swings/roundabouts?). But music is a different problem altogether and I have found recently that the iPod is a menace (well, iTouch as it is in my own case). I seem to want to really listen to the darn music, sometimes even sing along with it*. And once I start, even just listening on (say) the short journey over and back to the supermarket, I am lost for a while. It’s not just the time spent listening, it seems to wreck my concentration also and I’m not quite sure why. It lingers. It scrambles the mind. So, I am off the wretched and wonderful device (iTouch) while the muse is still with me and probably until the buke is done…I miss it already…
*badly
the child and the dog 21 May 2008
They were both wonderful – tarnation, can no wisdom or old wives’ tale be trusted at all anymore? (By the way, it may have been WC Fields who first started the idea that you shouldn’t work with either). The dog is called Spot and is a lady dalmation – a strong gal, I’ll tell you, and as trained as she is she has her own ideas from time to time, but nothing she can’t be persuaded away from by doggy treats/pig’s ear type chews. I think that’s the secret with getting animals to do things – you have to remember that they will work for food (as will most human actors, these days, I can assure you – sad but true). And our lovely young girl star is a total joy – Keekee is her name and I think she’s probably a more experienced actress at age 11 than I am at age…well, we won’t go into that again. So, both were a joy and we are lucky to have two such professionals on board. And, as I think of it, I have worked with plenty of older human creatures who were nightmares – and somewhere someone is probably saying the very same about me…
two other things:
one – apparently a truly awful computer virus will be going around soon and you’ll know it cos there’ll be an attachment called POSTCARD with the email – no matter who it is from you shouldn’t open it as it will destroy all in it’s way.
two – Aine in Austalia – I tried to reply to your email but it came back as undeliverable, don’t know why
never act with 21 May 2008
I am about to do a day’s work with a child and a dog – even though they warn you never to act with children or animals. I’ll let you all know how it goes later…
By the by, who are ‘they’, exactly?
oh dear 20 May 2008
We have lost our superpowers as a nation…the turkey didn’t qualify for the final of Eurovision. I didn’t witness the bowing out as I am in London and it wasn’t shown on UK tv – probably just as well as the sadness might have overwhelmed me. If there is any solace, it is personal: now I can relax my campaign to present as the contest won’t be coming anywhere near Ireland for at least another 2 years. Still, it doesn’t soften the blow. We are now officially rubbish at one of the things we used to be best at. History will judge us harshly. We judge ourselves harshly too, believe me.
We’ll have to get good at something else. There’s football, I guess, now that the national have a top Italian manager. We’ve gone lukewarm in our rugby. Perhaps the Olympics will yield something…although any time we have showered ourselves in glory there, there’s been a subsequent scandal and medals withdrawn (or ought to have been)
Depressed now.
The sooner talking, arguing and all related chat-based activities become Olympic sports the better. Then we’ll be BACK and with a grudge to settle…
Let the games begin…
on set 19 May 2008
I started a new job today in London, a film called Hell’s Pavement, about fostering in Britain and children falling through the cracks in the system. Not exactly a barrel of laughs as a subject, I will admit, but there is happiness in the making of it. And the things you learn while having lunch or chatting between shots…like today I heard that Hitler was a vegetarian. Funnily enough, it’s not something most vegetarians boast about. Also, I am led to believe that there is a smelly cheese in existence called The Stinkin Bishop. And the advice from the make-up lady is to lay off the special eye creams for a while as they may actually be making the dark circles under my eyes worse than they should be!! To be honest, I had begun to have the same thoughts myself so I will give the plan a go and let youse all know the result (if the abstinence proves successful it means that you cannot win in life, much like we have always suspected) Met two great cats and saw both Uxbridge and Ruislip for the first time – very nice and leafy actually.
Mu mum reports from Dublin (where she was on Mrs G duty for the weekend) that more of the leafy gods and goddesses are gone from the site next door and the noise of those trees being cut down to build ugly apartments would break your heart. I think she returned to the West of Ireland quite depressed about it all. I dread seeing the aftermath of the destruction when I return. Even the cat is cheesed off about it, by all accounts, and she normally plays her cards close to he chest on environmental matters..
bee gees 18 May 2008
There is a lot of talk about Gordon Brown being a big fan of the Bee Gees. I know that Saturday Night Fever was a milestone in my growing up, not least because of the music of teh brothers Gibb (though it’s a bit distressing to work with people these days who weren’t even born when that came out). Perhaps the most touching thing for me, as a former cast member of Fr Ted, is that when Maurice Gibb died a copy of the FATHER TED scripts book was put in the coffin with him for burial as he was such a huge fan of the show.
ironic 18 May 2008
In a splendid bit of irony related to names it seems that I have called a few blogs ‘name’ or ‘names’ (much like my book problem in the first place, see below) so that when people are commenting they are put on to the oldest version to do so, hence it’s the most repeated, if you see what I mean…Alanis Morissette take note – THAT’s ironic…
names 17 May 2008
I had a fantastic chat with the good festival-goers of Fowey in Cornwall this morning. So much so that there was no time for questions…at the end of the hour and a quarter… Afterwards, while I was signing books I came across some names I hadn’t heard in a while. I don’t know why it is but I seem to choose a lot of the same ones for the books and often have to go back and check that they aren’t ones I have used before in that or another novel. I’ve often thought a good exercise would be to use the names from the death notices on any given day – the Irish Times always has a great selection. I said this to one of the audience at the talk this morning and she suggested going to a graveyard – a good notion. I’m also very fond of walking around cemeteries – only trouble these days is that there are more and more people to visit. Before anyone gets all upset, using the names of the dead would be a very gentle homage to the departed and the characters, obviously, wouldn’t bear any resemblance to those gone ahead.
I took a stroll around the wonderful town of Fowey (and, sadly, spent money I should not have on things to hang outside on my back wall in Dublin and scented candles and suchlike – and me with a self-imposed credit crunch because of the builders starting soon). It is the quintessential, hilly, cute, higgledypiggledy, English coastal town. Oh and I bought an American first edition of The House On The Strand, one of my favourite Daphne du Maurier novels and an original of a book by the scholar and poet A L Rowse about his cat Peter, the white cat of Trenarren. Can’t wait to get stuck into those. I don’t usually go in for all that ancient first-edition thing but those two books called out and so they came home with me.
A great day out.
the nukies 16 May 2008
When we were kids one of my mother’s favourite subjects re conspiracy theories and the end of the world was The Nukies. We don’t really seem to hear so much about that anymore – yes, the odd time when Korea or Bangladesh test a bomb – oh, and wasn’t there a theory about a 45 minute attack from Iraq or somewhere like that that led to a war? I am writing this in the lounge of a hotel in Fowey in Cornwall, where I will be giving a wee talk at the Daphne du Maurier festival in the morning and remembering that the last time I was here I was sent to St Austell to do a radio interview with the BBC but it was in an unmanned bit of the station in the basement, which was also a nuclear shelter. I felt like the last woman alive. I had to dial out, following the instructions posted on the wall and wait to hear if ‘anyone was out there.’ They were. When I was finished I wandered out past the metal bunkbeds and empty kitchens and left, and no one saw me do so. I wonder when they checked to make sure I’d made it out…the rest of the staff were up two floors and I wasn’t their responsibility. I think in the event of a nuclear attack, although I know where I could find shelter, I shall reach for many fine wines (and whatever else I can lay hands on) and go gently that way.
Marc Almond was playing in the festival marquee tonight and he sounded great from my room.