Final Chapter...

Sometimes a story simply doesn't need a middle. Sometimes it hardly needs an end. Sometimes it just ceases to be..somewhere along the way it just disappears and its passing is not even noticed. It usually has an opening chapter, of course, one that occasionally can be so full of promise and anticipation for the story that lies ahead that the very idea of the narrative coming to a sudden, unexplained end seems such a waste of potential. I tried really hard to find an ending to my story...I was willing to leave out the middle bit, but I felt that it was a tale that deserved to end with a nice, definitive full stop. No unanswered questions. No cliffhangers. No loose ends. The problem was though that by the time I had the heart to write my definitive ending, the time for writing it had come and gone. It quite simply didn't matter anymore. Maybe, on reflection, that is my perfect ending right there. It just doesn't matter anymore. Full stop.

Introducing......

Well, thank you everybody for your wonderful suggestions for a name for the pesky little squirrel who thrust himself into my life just a couple of days ago. Now, even though he is a naughty little thing who gave me no choice about bringing him home and no choice about agreeing to take him to America with me, I decided that he should still be allowed the dignity of being allowed to choose his own name. So..I put all of your suggestions to him and, although he doesn't speak much (he is a squirrel don't ya know?) he was able to express his preferences very clearly...

First I put "Tootles" to him and, although he showed initial interest, he then scurried into the kitchen and hid face down in a vase...I'm thinking he didn't like it . Sorry Tracey :(

Then I decided to try Jude's suggestion and cautiously suggested "Frizzo"...sorry Jude....as you can see, he simply refused to come out of the vase so I'm thinking "Frizzo" is a non- starter :(

I had one last chance to get him to stop acting like a bunch of tulips and get the hell out of the vase, so in I went with "Cheeky".Not a peep I'm afraid. Mel, I'm sorry, but he was singularly unimpressed :(

So, what was a girl to do? A squirrel HAS to have a name, just HAS to, so I figured it was time to call in the cavalry...oh yes, it was very much time for the big guns to be deployed. Enter Bert and Mary, stage left. It took a few attempts at finding the name that was just right and then in a flash there it was...the perfect name for Mr Not A Tootles Frizzo Cheeky Pants (I added the pants but myself..it sounded better!) so I put it to him, in a whisper, almost afraid to hear his reply:

"Squirrel...I have one last suggestion to make. Please give this one serious consideration before continuing to petulantly flaunt your tail at me. Squirrel...how about being called...(I whispered this bit in case the Penguins were listening. He heard me but it was too quiet by far for you to hear)........?"

And then suddenly....out he came with a cute squirrely smile on his face:

So here he is ladies and gentleman...may I introduce you to

Kendal :)

                                

See...they are everywhere..

Just by way of a little P.S. following on from my last post, Jude pointed out a very interesting but rather alarming little anomaly on one of Bert's UK photos . It's from the Derbyshire album and is this picture of him and Scott. Look just above Scott's head...

Oh and regarding my squirrel travelling companion...I shall need a fitting name for him. Any suggestions?

Update
My son read this post and he reminded me of another thing that I had completely forgotten and which has made all of this even weirder:

When Scott and Lara were about 2 years old and 4 years old, we bought them a goldfish each and gave them free choice in naming them. They completely steered clear of all normal 'fishy' names and came up with two entirely original ones (for goldfish!):

Scott - Squirrel
Lara - Pingu       

                       

WTF?

Yet another squirrel story...

...and this time he came home with me!

Now, I have never been one to see conspiracies everywhere I look. I'm quite happy to believe that Princess Diana died in an accident and yeap, I'm even willing to admit that some bunch of American men may just have landed on the moon. However, when it comes to penguins and squirrels I am beginning to get just a little bit unnerved.

First it was the penguins. Meeting a Bert was pretty coincidental in itself, considering that I am Mary Poppins but of course, in meeting him I also became acquainted with his dancing penguins. That is where it began to get a little weird. Penguins started showing up everywhere. I was watching the Muppet Christmas Carol this year, which I have watched every year since the kids were little, but THIS year a scene containing dancing, ice skating penguins had been mysteriously added to the movie. It definitely was never there before. Then my son came home from a trip to the zoo and was full of stories about copulating penguins everywhere he looked (Apparently Mr Penguin slaps Mrs Penguin on the ass as they have their jollies, but that is a story for another time!). In addition to this, penguins seem to be popping up everywhere..on TV, in magazines, on friends' blogs...I tell you, there is mischief afoot here.

Hot on the tails of the penguins, came the squirrels. I have already written about how they followed Bert and I around in London and how they are now watching everything we do. Be in no doubt, they are everywhere.

Today I decided to meet my friend Manuela for lunch in a lovely garden centre close to where she lives. It sells all kinds of plants and other things for the garden but also has a restaurant and an indoor shopping area stocked with lots of really lovely things. We had our lunch and decided to browse a little. And then I saw *him*. He was just sitting there. Staring at me. No seriously..he really was. A squirrel. Yes, so ok, he may not be a REAL squirrel but he was still watching me, and even Manuela couldn't quite believe where we found him. He wasn't sitting with the other soft toys...oh no, that would not have been unusual at all. Nope, he was sitting completely on his own in front of the jigsaw puzzles. Again, not that strange in itself, but the jigsaw puzzle looked rather familiar to me and I laughed out loud when I realised what it was a picture of...I could hardly believe it so I took a photo of the box with my cell:

Yeap - it's Heceta Head lighthouse - one of the ones that Bert visited just yesterday, and which he published a pic of this morning. And there it was in a garden centre in Huntingdon, England (the town where, incidentally, Oliver Cromwell was born), with a freakin stuffed squirrel sitting right in front of it, staring at me (Oh and the jigsaw puzzle behind ot contained lots of pictures of dogs. Including poodles. Go figure).

Anyway, I bought the squirrel of course and have decided that I shall take the evil little creature on my trip to America with me. I think that maybe that is what the squirrels have been trying to tell me recently..they wish me to smuggle one of their number into the USA with me so that he can carry out top secret surveillance for the Secret Squirrel Society. I know this will be a risk, but I feel I have no choice. I may even be made to take pics of him everywhere I go on my travels...I shall not want to, but I doubt I shall have any choice in the matter. It is the squirrel way...

Oh and here he is...he LOOKS totally evil, right? Would YOU mess with him?

Nope, thought not..me neither!

More than one way to teach a class...

Yuck - today was one hell of a depressing day...it was raining, the sky was covered in dark clouds that made it so dark that the street lights never did switch off, it had been a long, long week at work, we had government inspectors in my department so everybody, including students, was stressed and HELL guys..on top of that it's January.

Great way to start off a 9am class, huh?

Anyway, about half an hour in the students were working on a task that I'd given them that required them to work in pairs in order to prepare some mini-presentations that they would deliver towards the end of class. They sat there and it was all I could do to make them engage with each other at all. I knew how they felt. I myself would rather have been in bed to be honest, which is very unusual for me as I usually teach with so much energy that I bounce off the walls. It was as though somebody were pumping anaesthetic into the room and we were all suffering from its effects.

I needed to find a way to inject some energy into all of us and the best way that I know of doing that is by listening to a bit of music. So..music it was. I went to the PC that is hooked upto the interactive whiteboard, went onto Youtube and soon I had a lovely bit of Queen pumping into the room. The students seemed a little bemused by the whole thing to start with but once I'd found the right volume level they settled down to their work and not only did they start to engage in their task but I could almost feel the energy flooding into the room. The realy nice thing was that a couple of the students asked me to play their favourite songs, so before long we had the likes Rhianna and Beyonce playing, and then a lovely thing happened. There were only two students in the class who I thought may not appreciate my attempts to liven up the room - one is a very mature student (she is in her 70s) and the other is a rather quiet lady from Iraq, who is usually pretty quiet and reserved. I needn't have worried though, as first my elderly student requested "She loves you" by the Beatles and then my Iraqui student asked me if I'd mind putting on a bit of J-Lo. Priceless.

Anyway, in all we listened to music for almost an hour and each and every student produced some outstanding work. Then some smart ass asked if we could dance a while too. I said that sure we could..as soon as they had all done their presentations. They said that they felt it would be MUCH better to have a little boogie before their presentations though so I went with the flow and told them that we could all have a little dance around as long as each person in the class agreed to join in and dance to my choice of music...oh and I said that they would have to try and copy some ot the moves on the video too...I'm sure that they thought I was joking, so they all agreed. Oh dear oh dear...they really should know me better.

That was it then..I played the song and projected the video onto the whiteboard (I hadn't done that while they were working..way too distracting), they all stood up and slowly but surely they all joined in. By the end, they were all relaxed, energised, laughing and COMPLETELY ready to do their presentations, which went exceptionally well and which all of the students said they had very much enjoyed presenting.

All lesson objectives were completely met (in fact they were exceeded) and I had seen some rather interesting and someshat bemusing 'moves' from my students..oh and they from me. My choice of song? That will be THIS!! :)

Russian history...round one...

Exactly how 'great' was Peter?

Sometime last year, I stumbled across a myspace profile that rather fascinated me...an American who was proclaiming that he was rather enjoying being a 'Hooker'. I sent him an initial email saying that I hoped that he meant that he was a hooker of the rugby variety rather than the 'working guy' type as I would very much like to chat with him and bearing in mind that I have been to many rugby matches in my time but only visited a small number of male prostitutes, I felt that this would give us rather more to talk about. He replied with a *laugh* saying that although he did love rugby (what a coincidence...I adore rugby!) he was a 'Hooker' of the Chinook helicopter variety..he never did reply to my question about whether or not he is also a 'man of the night' but I'm assuming not :)  We exchanged a series of long, rambling emails that touched upon many weird and wonderful subjects. As we chatted, we stumbled upon many common interests and passions, one of which was a shared love of Russian history. We had planned to discuss this and many subjects during his trip over here in November but somehow we never did manage to get round to all things Russian (FAR too busy yelling at each other about politics as we wandered through the streets of London and far too busy chatting about an assortment of other random drivel the rest of the time). Anyway, we have recently decided to pick up this thread and have chosen the subject of Peter The Great as out first port of call. Over the past few days, we've discussed how to conduct this debate over a rather large ocean and a whole continent and we have decided to do it through a series of posts on here. I'm yet to be convinced about how this will work but am always game to try new things so here goes..

Peter The Great ruled Russia from 1682 to 1725, although he did not gain sole control of the country until 1694 (such was Peter's long and often tortuous route to power that we could discuss the events of the period from 1682 to 1694 as a subject in their own right..and maybe we shall!). During his time in power, Russia went through what I would suggest was one of the most dramatic and far-reaching periods of change in its history, second only to the events of the years following the revolutions of 1917 in terms of impact and far-reaching consequences.

Much of the historical debate that surrounds Peter and his time in control of Russia is based around an analysis of just how 'great' he was. This subject, along with more general analysis of his reign, has always totally polarised opinion and Peter has been proclaimed, both by his contemporaries and by historians throughout the centuries since his death, as either a virtually super-human hero or as the Antichrist. He is seen by many as the great moderniser of Russia, the architect of a Russia based on a western model of government, an outstanding war time leader and military commander, a reformer of state, military, education and religion and  the designer of a society built around the concept of a meritocracy, in an age where traditionally birth right and breeding were considered to be the main determinents of success. Of course, any period of such dramatic change will always come at a cost and can only be achieved to the detriment of those with either a vested interest in the 'old order' or those who will bear the financial burden that inevitably accompanies such all-encompassing reform.

Many liberals of the time revered Peter and saw him as a champion of light against darkness, as the leader who had single-mindedly dragged Russia away from its isolationist Muscovite past and into an era where she was aligning herself much more with was was viewed as a more enlightened and progressive west. Those who vilified Peter were  those whom he had either fiscally over-burdened or who were brutally subjugated to pave the way for his reforms. Under his rule the Strestsy, the elite Russian military corps founded by Ivan the Terrible to defend and protect the tsar, were eventually disbanded after taking part in a plot to over-throw Peter, but not until after over a thousand of its ranks were tortured and then executed, their mangled bodies put on public display as a warning to any others who were thinking of standing in Peter's way. Later in his reign, he sanctioned the torture and execution of his own son and it is recorded that on other occasions Peter was more than willing to carry out the role of executioner himself. In order to pay for his reforms of the military, the building of St Petersburg, his military campaigns and other measures, he raised taxation dramatically, with the lowest members of society, the serfs or slaves, often bearing the brunt of the burden.

I shall leave my final conclusions about how I would view Peter's reign in terms of 'greatness' until I've had a chance to chew the fat with Jeff and look in more detail at a lot of the issues discussed above. I'm thinking though that my verdict will fall somewhere in the middle and will to a large extent echo those of the writer Pushkin, who recognised the brilliance and necessity of Peter's reforms but who lamented the human price that was paid in order to instigate them.

Welcome back, Shirley Valentine...

Recently, I have had some very enjoyable conversations with a dear new friend about our favourite movies, particularly those that remind us in some way of experiences and feelings that we have had throughout our lives. In spite of the fact that we come from quite different worlds and from different generations, we have found that we have many things in common. Some of these are similarities in our life stories, and some of them are in our outlooks and in hopes and dreams that we have found that we have shared during various times in our lives. Possibly because of this, we have found that we have quite similar tastes in movies and have recommended a few of our favourites to each other.

A few days ago, I mentioned a film that is, or rather used to be, very personal to me and almost painful for me to watch. I first watched it at a time when my children were pretty young and when I very occasionally felt as though I was practically suffocating in my life. I loved being a mum and being there for my children but there was this little voice inside me, which sometimes managed to shout loud enough for me not to be able to pretend I couldn't hear it. It always said the same thing too. Three short words..."What about me?" I remember watching the movie at various times over the years and the sadness that enveloped me seemed to get worse everytime. I had to watch it whenever it was on TV though because when I watched it I didn't feel quite so alone. Quite so silly. Quite so much as if I were the only person who had ever felt like this. It described me and the way that I felt as though the vibrant, happy, sassy and confident young girl I had once been had somehow, over the years, been replaced by somebody else. Somebody else that neither I or my husband seemed to like very much. It hurt and I couldn't see any way out.

As this is the next movie that my friend is going to watch on my recommendation, I watched it again mysef this evening. This time though, I felt like I were watching it as a more distant observer...watching it show the way that I used to feel in some distant, darker time.

The movie is about Shirley Valentine, a woman who feels just the same that I used to and who took the brave step to try and escape from the life that was slowly drowning her. I used to watch it from the perspective of being stuck right in the middle of the movie..watching Shirley begin to find her wings again and start to fly and knowing that I could never be that brave. Then this evening, I watched the movie for the first time from a new perspective, which caught me completely unaware. This time, the sadness had gone. I didn't feel like I was stuck in Shirley's old life wishing I too could 'find myself' again but I was suddenly on the other side of the tunnel. I don't know when the change took place. I don't know when I stopped feeling like I was wasting the hope and potential that I remembered feeling back in my early twenties. I don't know when I became 'me' again. I don't know how I became 'me' again. But I'm so pleased to be back.

"What happened to Shirley Valentine? She got married to a boy called Joe and even though her name was turned to Bradshaw, she was still Shirley Valentine for a while. She knew who she was...but somewhere along the way, the boy called Joe turned into *Him*...and Shirley Valentine...turned into...this. And what I can't remember is the day, the week or the month when it happened. When it stopped being good...when Shirley Valentine disappeared and became just another name on the missing persons list."

"I've led such a little life..and even that will be over pretty soon. I have allowed myself to live this little life when inside me there is so much more. And it's all gone unused and now it never will be. Why do we get all this life if we don't ever use it? Why do we get all these feelings and dreams and hopes if we don't ever use them. That's where Shlrley Valentine disappeared to ...she got lost in all this unused life"

"I used to be the mother. I used to be the wife. Now I'm Shirley Valentine again,"