Day 514: Dirds

Oh my livid fuck, this is BRILLIANT: Dirds. Honestly. Dirds. Thank you for this bunch of random idiocy. Just the front page made me laugh at my computer like it was Jack pretending to be sick in his mouth (it's a long story).

The lady in the shop who let me go first with my two things was lovely. She had a weather-worn face and lots of warmth in her eyes. She was free with her chat and generous with her queue position. She had very long bottom teeth. 

Lots to be grateful for today. One thing is that my eyes no longer look red-rimmed and my face looks less like a dead person's face than yesterday. Another is my bed. It's lovely and I am in it. I won't be in it for a huge amount of time - leaving early tomorrow - but I will make the most of the time I have by sleeping more intensely than you could possibly imagine. I wonder if I have cheese to help me along with that... May my dreams be full of oddness and truth. I shall strap in. Here goes. 

Day 513: A&M Hawk Management

You can’t beat a hawk in a train station. I had the pleasure of one this morning. He was a Harris hawk and his feathers were rich, dark brown, like winey beef bourgignon. Some of them were lighter, too. He had significant claws and a fabulous beak. It had a tiny bit of fluff on it. His handler was trying to clean it off, but he wasn’t having any of it. He was a he – they both were. I couldn’t tell by looking (just the bird this time), but I took the handler’s word for it.

His task was not pigeon-killing, apparently. No. Nor fancying. Pigeon-scaring was his job. Deterring, if you want to be more formal about it. Made me think of him flying around doing a crazy roar and waving his arms. Well, he kind of is doing that, but it sounds regaller and a bit more scary. Especially if you’re a pigeon.

This man loves hawks too

Response to him was interesting. One man almost leapt in the air. The bird was quite big, but still only tall enough to be just above shoulder height while standing on an outstretched arm. Some people were reservedly knowledgeable. Most people at least had a good look. I was a little bit fascinated. I grew up reading  A Kestrel for a Knave by Barry Hines, and loving the film Kes. I fantasised about keeping a kestrel. I let my goldfish die, so it’s perhaps no tragedy that I didn’t get my wish, but I was then and am still fascinated by birds, especially killers and carrion-fiends. Birds of prey rock, though, don’t they, and you can’t knock a crow, so… there you have it.

Wingspan to die for!

It made me think, though. The handler had A&M Hawk Management emblazoned across his coat. That's his job. Possibly his company. Or even not. Maybe he's just an employee. There is a whole world of alternatives out there. It all depends on what you want and what you love. He loves hawks. It showed.

This morning, I read an article about a foiled assassination after the hitman hirer dialled the target’s number with his arse, got through and had the whole conversation about why and how to kill him with him listening in. By the time the target got back with the police, the gas had been turned on in his house, waiting for a flame or a sparky light switch to do the job, thus proving that it wasn’t made up. Poetic. Awful, lucky, the foulest of play, but poetic.

Thank you for a rich and meaty, learny, juicy, fabulous job. I’m on my way back from it. I’m grateful for everything I learnt and everything the client did, I’m grateful for the trip and of course, I’m grateful for the work itself. Thanks. Bigly. Thanks.

Thanks, too, for all the lovely big smiles from people in Gare du Nord and St Lazare or wherever I got off. There was a poe-faced commuter opposite me when I was busy changing my shoes on the way there, but she was making me laugh a bit with her determinedly elongated features. Many, many more were smiley and engaging. I saw some beautiful faces today – lots of chiseled features and dark-sparkling eyes. There was a lovely man buying mostly chocolate in a shop where I was buying tights (I know!) and the lady behind him with a fabulous face, statuesque in its definition and very wide-eyed.

Focus view. Block the rest of that shit OUT

Oh, and I’ve discovered a fact. If one looks at one’s reflection in a Eurostar window darkened by a tunnel or the night, one notices (if one is me) that one’s grey hairs are shining like beacons. Then one (again, if one is me) starts to try and pull them out. I remember my mother doing that when she must have been only a little older than me (and on her third child – come on, Jude, catch up!). I used to ask her if she didn’t like them and she said she didn’t mind them. Why pull them out, then? Well, I never understood her answer and I don’t quite get my own. I like grey hairs. I think they’re classy and I’d like a badger streak, were one to come along. Yet I pull them out. I like them out too. No explaining that.

Oh my good god, I’ve just discovered Focus mode in Word. HOW GOOD IS THAT? All I can see is this page and black borders. Come on novel, in my face, now.

That’s all, apart from this. Thanks, Dylan Emery. This dog and his parade made my day.  

Day 512: Anti-DailyGrind

Ha! I've just twigged why I'm suddenly seeing so many posts about gratitude. It was thanksgiving yesterday (as lots and lots of people said before I made the connection). I just had a giggle at myself about feeling territorial about it (which I actually didn't, but the idea popped into my head and tickled me with its inappropriateness, so I almost wish I had). It's good, isn't it, that so many people are gratefulling all over the place. I like it very much. Shower the people you love with love (thanks, Mahasukha). And the ones you don't know yet... Why not, eh?



Today is an adventure. Distance makes it so. Instead of travelling to a London office I've never been to, I get to travel to a Paris office I've never been to instead, to do one of my favourite things ever, and get paid for it. I have the over-anxious anticipation of someone who can't believe their luck, and can't quite accept that this is really happening. I've got that 'surely something must go wrong' feeling. I suspect it will go swimmingly. One of the reasons I love this work is that while you can shape a structure and prepare a toolkit (which I have done), you can't know what you're actually going to do until you have the person or people you're working with right there in front of you. I realise that this is one of the things I find the most exciting about the job. And the fact that another language is involved. 

So, holding lightly between my hands the fact that I can't predict or control how it goes, but can just do my best and enjoy that, including its experiments, failures, successes and progress, I'm off to work. Wheeeeeeeeeeee! 

Day 511: The Nature of Things

Max Windholz did this

Sooo, farts are still funny. Thank god for that. Seven years in a board game company, and you still couldn't take off a vocal game box lid without three or four people saying 'excuse me' like it was the funniest thing in the world.  I love humans. We're brilliant. 

Thanks, co-active coast people. I was wary, as I often am when joining an established group. I had a lovely chat with warm, open people. We laughed quite a lot and there were a few things that were a bit magical. 

Thanks to the very sweet people who have been in my day today. I bought some cheese, indirectly, from a woman I know. I had to go into Waitrose to do it (uh-oh). The boy behind the cheese counter kept me talking longer than anyone ever in a shop, I think. He asked me about yoga styles and how to become a ninja (he could evidently tell that I knew). Thanks to the man who smiled hugely and said hello in the street. And the other man that smiled hugely and said hello in the street. This second man looked under the influence of something... great smile, though, and lovely, open face.

Everyone's been willing to chat today, apart from the one or two who weren't... but honestly, I've had inconsequential, sweet banter with so many people today. Thank you for beautiful, colourful food. Thank you for some cackling with a lady in a leather shop (selling, not made of). 

I nearly went to Gregg's. And then I didn't. Grateful for that. And I laughed out loud in the street today, at something I saw. NO IDEA what it was, but it was very nice, and I really did have a good old laugh at it, so whatever it was, and whether it ever comes back or not... thanks. Oh, and I had a huge go on a tiny dog. He was up in my lap by the end of it, and we were in the middle of the street. He was fluffy and soft like a synthetic teddy bear and weighed almost nothing. I might have dreamt him. And I got flitted at/past by a sprightly robin. That was nice.

Nifty flitter

Today, I wore a lacy, sequinny, beautifully fitted dress. And tights. All day. Nobody pointed and laughed. Nobody said 'What are YOU doing wearing a DRESS?'. One person gave me a lovely compliment (thanks, Dilly). Most of all, nothing untoward happened. I shall do this more often.

Thanks for the passport, which showed up after only about ten minutes of searching. Job tomorrow. Would have been an Absolute Shitter if I hadn't been able to find it. 

I dreamt (and you have this on record) that I was rushing to pack and leave for the airport  (I think I was going to Brazil) when I looked out of the window and watched in slow-motion, fairly close-up horror as a plane took off and flew straight into another, larger plane taking off at a less steep angle up above. It crashed and burned over the city. The devastation was going to be huge. I didn't leave for the airport. I phoned someone and told them. There was a lifting of the anxiety of missing the plane, but it wasn't a good situation. What does this mean, please? Answers wherever you like. Pictures are fine too. 

Very excited for my job tomorrow, which is in Paris. I'm not flying. Probably best. 

Day 510: Butterfly in Raybans

That Gaëlle one's good, isn't she? I was treated to a second helping last night. We have decided how the world should be and what we're doing about it. I'm glad about that. Strap in, then, everyone. Shit's about to get BETTER! 

Gaëlle has managed to cure my eyelid eczema with wisdom alone. Apparently, when you put honey into boiling water, it releases toxins and if you're sensitive to them (as I am), it's quite common for it to cause irritations. 

Tiny disco turtle

When I get eczema (which is very rare indeed), it seems to be eyelids (mostly right side) and a tiny patch on my wrist (also currently right side). I've had it on my waist before... tiny weeny little buttons of it... and I think the regular cracking around my mouth is that too. Let's see what a hot-honey-free existence brings. Let me just clarify... I am actively welcoming attention from hot honeys in the figurative sense (if that's you, take note). Just not actual bee honey heated above a certain temperature. Just so we're clear.

Goth Squirrel (superhero)

I am blessed with an abundance of work, to the point where I'm a little wide-eyed, but very grateful. Thank you, everyone who's giving it to me. Do keep it coming, please. I love it. I love working... that's so very lucky. I'm blessed with friends like you wouldn't believe. And much more, some of which I'm hesitant to write just yet. It'll come when I'm ready.

My coach is busy changing my life with me... that's good, isn't it? And I'm learning stuff and being spoilt with the abundance of ideas that keep flowing and of offers coming in. I have an embarrassment of offers of places to be.. AND I'm still looking for the one that takes me by the solar plexus and shakes me like a doll. That one, I'll go for. 

I don't care who you are. Don't fuck with me.

Who knows of a fabulous jungle-based project I can be useful to for a little while (a couple of weeks or months). Dec-Jan would be good, but failing that, later in the year is also fine. I make a plan, yes? Yes.

The Red Squirrel. I've been meaning to see that for almost twenty years. I watched it. When I lent it to Victoria Sandison a few years ago, it came back with a note on it that said 'You Fucking Weirdo'. I'd been going to throw it away, convinced that I'd never watch it. That note convinced me to hold onto it. I now understand what she meant, though not all the bits of the film that made her mean it. 

The Red Squirrel is the weirdest Spanish lesson I've ever had. I quite liked it. I've often wondered what it would be like if someone cut part of their cheek off with unfeasibly long scissors. Now I know. I bet that was a scene that brought ripples or gleeful groo from crew and cast. Eeeeeeeeee! And kind of funny too, when it's done to make a point (though quite what point, I'm still a bit confused about).

I had good seat karma in the library today. I kept the seat karma going as we left. 

PS... in case you hadn't noticed, I seem to be a bit wildlife today. Fly, little grasshopper mind, fly like a... well, there's quite a lot of choice here. I was in a monkey mood to start with. The monkey didn't even make the final cut. They do fly, though, so that works. Imagine a monkey flying, imagination, and fly like that. Meta.

Day 509: Aloe Foot

Mmmm, aloe.

I spent most of the evening with the heart of an aloe vera plant cling-filmed to my throbbing heel - and all because I have such lovely friends! Thank you, soothing aloe - you took all the heat out of my raging heel and you made the raw blisters calm themselves down and settle back into being skin.

Thank you, Gaëlle, for leaving me your beautiful boots (deceptively soft and beautifully made). We have now learnt by trying that they are either quite simply too small, or should only be worn show, as long as the necessity to walk is absolutely guaranteed to be limited. They are lovely, though. 

Lovin those Lontons

Thank you, you cornucopia of Lontons (actual and honorary), firstly for coming down, secondly for inviting me to your friend's party and thirdly for driving me to my door, so I didn't even have to put the boots anywhere near the bottom half of my body on the way home. I was having trauma twitches just thinking about it. Also for being patient with me while I settled... I was fractious and a bit boomed out with the fracas of people at the party when I first arrived. Thanks for giving me the time to find my feet (ha) again. And thanks for the pumpkin cake. Bloody hell. Little tears of joyful anticipation just thinking about eating some later. 

Thanks, Jim Tarran at the Buddhist centre, for the funniest yoga lesson I've ever had. Bugger laughter yoga (which is pretending to laugh until you do, in my experience) and thank god for this man. He was enormously skilful in helping people not to take themselves too seriously - the invitation to pull a more yogic face than everyone else did for that and the jazz/disco/rock moves did the rest - and I actually stretched further in a few postures than I would have by trying really hard (it's hard to do that when you're laughing). And thanks, again, Gaëlle - without you I wouldn't have been there in the first place.

14th Dec, Brighton Buddhist Centre. Come!

Right... that'll do. SO much has happened, and I'm overflowing with awe and humbleness for it. AND it's time to do some work now, thank you very much (rhetorically and for the abundance of work). 

Oh, while I remember, though, thanks again for Soulful Singing, which is just gorgeous. It's genuinely soulful (and of course, there is actual singing involved). I enjoyed it very much yesterday, despite sounding like an old door thanks to a cold. I still had a lovely time, and I still got those open heart vibrations throughout my body. 

Day 508: Looking Through the Eyes of Love

Reptile Experience

This morning's headache went away. For that, I'm more grateful than you can possibly imagine. I'm also grateful that it's so normal to forget pain when it isn't happening. I feel overflowing with thanks for that. Lordy. It's good that I can't recall the sensation. Pleasurable sensations are easier to recreate. Nature got THAT right! 

My taxi driver last night gave me glee by announcing in the most deadpan, unvarying voice possible, that 'Your address is next to the Booth Museum. I went there once for a Reptile Experience.' Something about his delivery and deadly seriousness made me suspect I was in a sitcom. His next question, 'So what phobias do you have' (same tone) didn't really help to change that. Finally, as I got out, he told me he had been to see his parents and had fallen down the steps in their garden, ripping the only good pair of jeans he has. The silver lining, though (his words), was that he didn't break any bones. I did find the whole thing very funny... and at the same time I was charmed and warmed by his candour and straightforwardness. Both things can be true. His delivery was undeniably comedic, but I was laughing at it and the absurdness of the situation, not him. 

Also last night, a musical evening chez les Grundels, with Waller and Ella and ConnorJatter. Didn't notice the name glee last night. Now I do. Rob, Pam and Finn. WallerEllaConnerJatter. Ha. Lovely company, soup and scones to die for and then me and Pam went to see Moon Project. I don't know who you are, you readers, but if you're the kind of person who books shows into places, or loves theatre, speak to Rachel Blackman. She done this. It's really good. Both performances, the music, the narrative choices. GOOD STUFF. And RB - wow! Suitably blown away.

Good chats with Grundel and Waller, separately this time. Good wanderings in Brighton. A serendipitous library book and a thing explained, one deleted, one awaited. 

A lovely exchange with a guide-dog-training stranger who works in Woodford Green (spooky) saved me/gave me £3 in a very convoluted way. A lovely pair of gloves with indoor and outdoor potential (i.e. mitten flaps).

No bean shot comes close to the pretty of my breakfast

This morning, I read more about love. Here's the concept. While very close to dying of cancer, a woman the writer knew was elated because she could see love as a kind of glowing thing that passed between people.  A couple in love would have this glow, and so would people doing kind things, so the nurses who came to care for her and give her medication would glow, as would someone who mopped the floor. The invitation in this book was to look through similar eyes and see where you can see acts of love taking place.

Doesn't matter where it
comes from. Love is love

A pair of small brothers holding each other's hands tightly brought sudden tears to my eyes as I rode down the hill. The smile and bright 'hello' of the man in the very Italian cafe was an act of love, as was the other guy sneaking in and doing a stealth wipe of my table as I sat down. The interaction between him and the girl on the sofa was full of it, and the delicacy with which he asked if he could take the little jug from my table was too. And oh, the Posho baked beans on toast - beautifully arranged, sprinkled with parsley and drizzled with pretty lines of balsamic around the edges. That was a whole love offering! And his almost-squeal when I said that he'd done British food better than any Brit. 

This way?

I like this game. I wonder if this blog might share its focus for a while - gratitude and acts of love. I wonder what difference that will make. Lets see, shall we?

Day 507: International Experts and Tiny Lipcocks

Aaaaaahhhhh

How delightful is it to come away, well paid, from a job that was so much fun that you'd have done all the bits involved in it for free (in theory at least) in another context, with people you would actively pay to spend time with (no theory about it - I would actually pay).

Venezuela, innit?

We have all come away from that job with badges that say 'EXPERT' - sanctioned by an icon of an establishment. It's happened before, but my glee remains intact. Speaking of glee, my toddler-like reactions to Jack's box of tricks have been duly noted. Toddler-like because nothing needs to change - the same action produces the same reaction time and time again. Not only did he fake vomit a lot (prompting delighted outbursts from me every single time), but he also hit us with some great French tongue-twisters... one about a turkey, one about leeches and one about a shaved uncle. They were our favourites. Every time: he says the words, I giggle and clap, transported into a moment of simple, engrossing delight. Sorted.

Not a lipcock/cockstick

I want to go to the jungle. The fabulous team I had the pleasure of working with over these last few days (including mad-haired sound technician Geoff and documentary-maker Vincent, as well as mighty, mighty fine Barbara King and Jack Rebaldi) have given me ideas about that, and Jack & Barbara have given me some totally excellent information about casting. I am deeply grateful.

Rob sent me this. Ha ha haaaaa. Bumholes and lipcocks. Looks like I've moved up from toddler by about six months. Not more. 

Oh GOD! In looking for pictures for this, I discovered a truly hideous range of lipsticks shaped like bell-ends. I have chose an a much more anodyne picture from the same search term throw-up. (lipcock) If you want to see them, you'll have to google image search them yourself. Not Very Nice, is my verdict. 

Day 506: Can You Feel It?

Can you, though?

Taxi at the crack of dawn - actually before - dawn is far from cracking and I'm already on the train. Heart FM on loud in the cab. I fought it for a while, imagining what my life would be like if i had that blasting out all the time, with ads for Brighton Marina gold card and 'bubbly' female voices trying to sell me shit constantly. Then 'Can You Feel It' came on. I gave in. I remembered a Derren Brown show that used that song (among other things) to set people up to rob a security van. I paid for my taxi and even tipped the guy, so I'm feeling good and I did wonder about a little dance in the back.

Spanish Mountain Dawn

I caught the dawn yesterday - another early start for a job. It reminds me how much I love witnessing the dawn. It seems that for me, getting out of bed is a bit of an issue whatever time of day, so it might as well be early. Then you get a bit of dawn. If I'm lucky, I'm in the water some time about then, becoming hardy. It's great to get lots and lots of sleep sometimes, and it would be better still if I could get into going to bed earlier so that I get it, and still get to see the sun come up. I'll get there.

My psyche

I've just said no thank you to a fabulous offer of a whole house for a fabulous price for three months, belonging to a valued friend. It's such a good offer, I can't believe I've done that, but I have to trust my instinct.. eeee. This is the scary bit. I am, though, hugely grateful for the offer, the generosity and the opportunity. I'm still hankering after Spanish mountains, for some reason... and there's me worried about being lonely. The psyche is a complicated little bugger, isn't it?

Great job yesterday, very satisfying, with lovely, lovely people (thanks Neil, Amy, brilliant participants). And I came home with a sack of fruit, including the biggest pineapple I've ever seen, a persimmon, passion fruits and physalis (which I realise I have always thought of as syphilis) and lots more. Thanks, Frank. You rock, collectively and individually. 

Hut

Now Strasbourg. Fantastic company, a slick journey, lots of playing, lots of languages and a generally jolly good time. It's been a behemoth of a day, but I've loved it all. I've wept with laughter at least twice and come close too many times to count. I've learnt tongue-twisters that'll make your face fall off. I've eaten fabulous food. I've travelled for miles and acquired some very useful little bottles. And all this is 'work'. Fuck, yeah!

Day 505: Whirrr Beep!

This is the email exchange I had today with a lovely 'robot' at Artefact cards:

On 7 Nov 2013, at 12:52, Artefact Cards wrote:

Dear Judy Claybourne,
All of the items from order #1544 have now been shipped:
1x Artefact for Desk
They are being shipped to the following address: 
(blah blah blah)

I replied:

On 7 Nov 2013, at 13:06, Judy wrote: 

How exciting!  Thank YOU  (even if you're automated). 

This is what came back:

From: Artefact Cards <artefact@smithery.co>

Date: 7 November 2013 14:56:58 GMT

To: Judy <jude.claybourne@yahoo.co.uk>

Subject: Re: Shipping confirmation for order #1544

WwwHhHiirrrrrr BeeP

You ArE weLCome Beep

Massively tasty things

How gorgeous is that? The other thing that's gorgeous about Artefact is that they make these beautiful little yellow cards for you to have ideas on. Given that having ideas is one of my favourite things to do, like, evah, and that doing them on pleasing cards with rounded corners, using a slick pen and a box to stand shit up in... god, it's good. You can't top a bit of really good design, can you. We'll be using them in State of Play workshops. 
Whiiirrrr, Beep!

Day 503: Monsters

As always, the reason for not blogging is never that there aren't enough awe-inspiring, humbling, wonderful things to be grateful for - it's quite simply that I haven't made the time (often for healthy reasons) to sit at my computer and write. 

The balance is that this writing in itself feeds a part of me that nothing else reaches (oh Heineken advert-writers, you did SO well - I swear that ad came out in the 80's and it's still in my head). So here goes...

For starters, there's this:  The Anatomy of Japanese Folk Monsters


Anatomical diagrams and monsters - two of my absolute favourite things. And other languages - another one of them.
And ridiculous creativity. It just gets better and better.

I don't have words, except 'thank you, Paddy Otley' - the man to go to if you need a monster, a monster fact or a brilliantly monstrous illustration. 

Day 504: Paid to Laugh

This is not Chris

Quite apart from a fabulous day laughing with wonderful, delightful Jack Rebaldi (I don't think I'll EVER get bored of him!) and delicious is-she-French-no-really-she's-French-right Barbara (who is, in fact from Essex, I think, or East London, but looks and sounds French, even in English)... quite apart from all that fineness, and getting paid to laugh as we work, then there was Chris.

Soulful Singing on Saturdays

Chris was on the train (which was delayed, or replacing a cancelled one, or something)...  He was retired. He used to work the bins for Brighton Council and he lived in Whitehawk. He worked in the same team of men, doing the same rounds, meeting the same people, for 25 years. He loved his job, so he said. Loved it. He had smile lines that went not only around his eyes but through his whole face. He was very funny, very warm and lovely to chat with. If I could have shrunk him and put him in my pocket, I would have. I really liked him. I did tell him this. 

We said goodbye at Preston Park. I planned to do work and to let people I was late for know know that I was late but in the end, I was having such a nice time talking to him that I forgot about all the things I could have/ought to have/should have been doing and enjoyed the moment. 

This is Mahasukha

I got home to find a wonderful book from the 1980s or so waiting on the mat. Raw Energy by Leslie Kenton. It cost 99p. I think it's about to make me feel a lot better. It's a version of what I learnt on the fast (oh, the fast - I never said - 6 days on water and very diluted juice... nice - so much more than that, but it's now passed and gone and my commitment not to do anything during that time meant skipping the blog too). I learnt good things about nutrition and then denied them of my body... now I'd like to offer it something a bit gentler, so let's have a go at this. 

I sang on Saturday. That's worth mentioning. With Mahasukha at the Dome in Brighton. I'm still glowing a little bit. I find it marvellous. I actively do some marvelling when it's happening. It makes me very glad indeed. I almost feel a bit loved up by it. I am delighted to be blogging too.