I went into our local Somerfield with my twins to buy this weeks exciting issue of Match. The way the magazines are set out there is with three low shelves atop one large shelf. Women’s interest and TV is on the left, and on the right there are 2 shelves of kids comics (I’m talking Thomas the Tank Engine and Barbie etcetera), and the top shelf is Nuts/Zoo/Boobs R Us soft porn men’s mags.
Remember I said these shelves are low? Right, so my kids are almost eye level with Michelle Marshes air brushed boobage, and start saying “Mummy, why have those ladies got no clothes on?” and so on.
Hmmm.
I went back in today, alone, and I looked at the shelves and just thought how incongruous it is to have those magazines with the children’s stuff. Then I thought that actually I feel quite cross about it. I am getting heartily sick of the constant reduction of women to the size of their breasts. What message does this give to young boys? It is becoming more and more acceptable to see soft porn images right across the media. I recall Labour MP’s being angry about page 3 girls, and now they are everywhere.
So, I went over to an assistant and said I had a complaint. She got the supervisor. I explained that I was unhappy that the men’s mags were with the children’s and she said;
“That’s where they are located.”
“Yes, I can see that, but why are they with the children’s comics, that’s inappropriate surely?”
“They have to go there on the top shelf.”
“Hmmm, yes, but it’s nowhere near as high as for instance the top shelf in the newsagents which is well out of children’s reach, is it?”
“No, but it has to go there.”
“With the kid’s stuff?”
“Well where else could it go?”
“Perhaps, if you must sell such things, they could go over with the women’s magazines and at least not be where kids can easily see them?”
“Oh no, it wouldn’t be right! The women wouldn’t like it.”
“…?…”
“Perhaps we could put them under the children’s magazines, at the back.”
“Hmmm. Perhaps you could pass on my comments to your manager?OK, thanks, bye.”
Back to school motto’s.
Summer holidays are over as of today, and I have packed my boys back off to school. They each gave themself a motto for the new school year, Dylan’s is “It’s showtime baby!” and he says he will show people who he really is, Ted’s is “Keep on rocking” as he says he wishes to maintain last years glory!
I don’t have a motto for myself, if I did it would probably be along the lines of “Get a move on fatty!” as my ability to procrastinate seemingly knows no bounds. Because of this I have organised my own timetable to follow, which, if followed correctly, will allow me the grand total of 12 hours a week for my writing.
Si pointed out that if I were to work extra hours at the bookshop I would be unavailable to the people who phone me during the day and talk for hours, he says I need to take my writing seriously enough to count it as being work and not answer the phone and not get sucked in to conversations with the many old ladies who like to chatter to me on my way back from school. He is right of course. I guess in some way it is hard for me to validate my words. I know too many deluded people who think they are special because of some talent they perceive they have when in truth…ach, I’ll give it a go eh?
A day at the bookshop in a random reportage.
2 young boys bought “Doing it” by Melvyn Burgess and could not hide their blushes, awwwww.
A dad brought in his 2 kids (aged 5 and 2ish). The 5 year old struck up an excited conversation with me about Art Attack and going into year 1 whilst the 2 year old opened up a gift box and extracted from within the rubber duck. He kept squeaking it and I said “Oh, you have our rubber duckie, I wondered what that sound was.” in a loud, bright voice designed to alert his dad to what was happening. I turned back to the counter to serve someone and when I looked round again the kid was standing (STANDING!) on 2 ducks. “Please don’t stand on my ducks” I said “They are still for sale.” I told his dad who didn’t even have the grace to apologise.
A huge man demanded that I recommend something amazing to him. I asked what sort of thing he liked and he said that was irrelevant, he wanted to know what I thought was brilliant as after all that was my job. I am delighted, and smug, to report that he left the store with 7 books!
There is a new temp at work. He checked on our computer for a book. The computer showed we had 2 in stock. He looked on the shelf before informing the customer that we had sold out. When the customer had moved away from the counter I quietly told him that if the computer showed more than 1 copy it was a fairly safe assumption that we did in fact have the book. No, he said, it’s not there. I checked the screen and informed him that as it was in our latest campaign it was probably on the ground floor. No, he replied, it won’t be, unless there are5 or 6 copies it won’t be downstairs. Jeez. I have, what, 7 years experience with this organisation and this boy has 3 weeks. Whatever, I’m a Saturday assistant now, I can’t be bothered. I carry on shelving some stuff but return to the till point in time to hear him say to the ground floor staff “Oh, you do, right, no, it doesn’t matter.”
He did say to me that he hoped never to be so stupid again. Tee, and indeed, hee.
All my friends are superheroes by Andrew Kaufman
This is utterly irresistible. It’s a slim volume, with an intriguing title and cover. It is so sweet, without being in any way saccharine. I feel like I don’t want to give too much away but the central concept is that everyone that Tom is friends with really is a super hero, but their special powers are not what you would guess. I know several people who have read it (it is a read in one go kinda book) and men and women alike adore it in equal measure. Nobody has had a bad word to say about it at the bookshop, which is rare. It is the sort of book to give as a gift, but you’ll need one for yourself too!
Starry (ish) starry (ish) day.
In a bid to rival the very cool Bookseller to the Stars (his link is over there on the right, he’s good!) I would like to announce that today in the Bookshop by the Sea I served Preston and Chantelle. She giggled a lot and had bad hair. I assume they were with his parents and he was too busy chatting to his dad to do me the courtesy of saying thanks when I handed him his bag of books. Far far more amazingly an hour later Jordan aka Katie Price, Peter Andre and their children came in to the shop. I didn’t serve them myself, but did peek at them from behind a post! She obligingly posed for camera phone pics with some of our customers (taken by Mr Andre.) I believe they totaly trumped the earlier slebs. Katie P is tiny, and pretty, and Peter is actually quite handsome. Hurrah.
Ooh, we also got to see Barbara Windsor waving from a Pride float. What a day, almost like Heat magazine had come to life!
Give up.
At 17.24p.m I now realise that my story is still not finished and still not good enough. It is with self loathing that I announce to me that this year I will not be entering the Asham Award. Sigh. I am rubbish. (And even whilst I am writing this in the back of my mind a wee voice continues to think that perhaps if we write more now and then go to the Post Office and ask about guaranteed next day delivery…)
Grrr argh
So I have been writing a story as my entry to the Asham award. If I want to submit it I’ll have to post it tomorrow. Only it’s not finished. I think it could be really good, with a lot more work. However, it is perfect for the Asham (I think). So, do I hold on to it and rewrite and keep it for some other thing, or do I stay up all night and finish and send?
Bearing in mind that it costs £10 to enter I’m thinking that a piece I’m not delighted with is like pissing cash away. It needs to be strong. Sigh.
And now the boys have broken up for Summer hols there will be precious little writing time until September. The one niggle that I have about not sending it is that I have almost (coincidentally) written it just for the Asham. I’m not sure where else it would fit. Certainly nowhere so prestigious. But, hey, shit’s shit , and if it’s shit…
Mike Patton ~ Peeping Tom
Ooh, the new album is so gooood!
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B000F3TBIO/026-5127016-1012442?v=glance&n=229816
He is on record as saying that this is his pop album. Hmmm, it’s not quite pop, but is certainly his most accessible record since his FNM days. The album feels very familiar, even though I have only played it a few times. I think that’s possibly because vocally it’s very Faith No More era Patton, and that was my soundtrack for , ooh, years. Speaking as someone who adores his eclectic musicianship it is also something of a relief to not have to listen to grunting burp sounds (yup, I was one of those people who actually bought “Adult themes for voice”, the sound of a guy in a hotel room farting out noises.)
I like Tomahawk, I like Mr Bungle, I love FNM, unsure about Fantomas despite Dave Lombardo drummy god!, and I love this…it’s boppy, funky, groovy. He apparently collaborated with all these people without meeting them which is odd, but you really couldn’t tell. Smooth. Hurrah!
Oh, and lyrics such as these:
“And I know that assholes grow on trees
But I’m here to trim the leaves
And I’m afraid
That you’re still my friend
You’re just a piece of shit
I can overlook it today
Coz you’re still my friend
(So don’t even trip)
Drop that gun you ain’t my fucking hero
You think it’s cool to be a fucking zero “
Are so much fun to sing along with in a jaunty summery way after dropping the boys off at school and fake smiling at the horrid playround mums.
Rejection, dejection and stupid submissions.
I received a rejection letter from The British Council. It’s odd but I am used to submitting online and then hearing via email if I have been successful or not. I have so far been fortunate enough to have a fairly good success to submission ratio. To get a letter saying no was quite a downer.
Now I have submitted a story to QWF and once again I seem to find the rules of submitting beyond me. I am self taught on my PC, and I muddle along rather than have any natural understanding. The rules of entry were strict and stated that all pages must carry the title of the story, but not the author name. I dutifully inserted a header on each page. It had to be double space, of course, and a certain length, yup, and failure to comply will result in disqualification. Oh. It had to be emailed, so I emailed from word. Then I checked Outlook Express just to see that it had gone. Sure had. With the headers removed and sent as an attachment. Fuck! That’s when I recalled that I should cut and paste to Outlook Express, not mail from word.
Oh well. Too late now.
I am also working on a story for the “Asham award”. By working on I mean that I have a vague notion and have written a paragraph preferring instead to munch on mini poppadoms and surf around various trashy forums proclaiming my feelings on this years big Brother.
Douglas Coupland "J-Pod"
Hmmm. Well I was thrilled to purchase the limited edition hardback complete with stuck on “Doug” squiggle and J-Pod figure. I adored the typography as I flicked through. I anticipated reading it much as one does a particulaly delicious treat. Once I began, however, I kept putting it down and not bothering to pick it up again for a few days. I loved “Hey nostradamus!” so very much, it explored god and God and nature and life and death and love in such a subtle and light way. I felt it was incredibly profound and J-Pod would therefore be its polar opposite; ultra light and all about the gags. The story romps along with characters who never become more than their sketchy (lazy?) profiles and who could care about them or their adventure?
I am used to his work veering from great to just alright, but I am disappointed. It won’t put me off buying his next novel though, I will always make time for his writing which at its best is gorgeous.
Sara Crowley 