World Book Night 2011

I have begun some kind of quest to read each title on this year’s World Book Night book list (which can be found here).  

There’s no attachment to WBN, none. But I was passed one of their books (Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ ‘Love in the time of cholera’) across the counter one afternoon - which bore the branding. Inside the cover, to my delight, was the full reading list. 

The attraction lies solely in the ‘list’ factor. It takes the problem (if you will) of choice out of the equation on deciding which book to read next, and I like that it’s written down in one place for me, rather than me having to remember to find the scrawled note.

I scanned the list and I recognized several titles which were filed away under my mental category of, ‘ooh! I’ve been meaning to read that one!’ 

The other advantage of working through a list such as this, is that I am given a head start: having read 2 or 3 of the titles already. I think we can just glaze over this suggestion of appalling laziness on my part. Plus, there’s a bonus title (Margaret Attwood’s ‘The blind assassin’), which lives on my shelves but has never been read. 

In this attempt at a series of blogs, I’ll talk about where I found the book, where I read the book, and what I thought of it. And, if you’re especially lucky, it won’t be nearly as boring as the previous sentence. 

Bristol, I am slowly discovering, is a mine of good bookshops. Indies, 2nd hand, vintage and a nice large Waterstones.

I like reading. I’ve liked reading for a long time. But I don’t like having to actively find good books to read. I hate reading books to discover I am not enjoying the journey.

It’s only very, very recently that I’ve twigged my personal preference in a book is The One Where each chapter is written from a different perspective, a different voice. (Can someone enlighten me on the correct terminology, please? My English tutor would be horrified.)

St. Nicks Market, Bristol

Happily enough, the first book that I found on a recent scavenge in a 2nd hand book shop (Beware the Leopard Books, St. Nicks Market, Bristol - go in and say hello, and buy a book) was Kate Atkinson’s ‘Case Histories’.

It’s brilliant. 

I’m skeptical of reviews. Respected publishing houses and broadsheets having word-gasms all over a back cover isn’t usually what reels me in. I do like reading a good bit of teaser prose though - and I get tetchy with the author/publisher who denies me this. Atkinson has done nicely. 

Without giving too much away - I could still punch the guy who told me Dumbledore dies at the end - it’s a detective novel. There’s a few horrific deaths at the start, a really awkward sex scene that I physically tried to read through my hand covering my eyes, a healthy dose of characters who have completely broken down home lives and 410 pages of who in the hell did it. 

It’s taken me about a week to read it - I’ve been driven nuts by well-meaning, arseholing family and friends who want to spend time with me, and hear about how I’m doing, or in work, when I could be sat completely solitarily reading this bloody excellent book. I’ve been grabbing at spare 20 minutes and - I couldn’t believe myself the other day - I actually set my alarm early so I could get in a chapter before work.

I think, once I’ve exhausted the WBN2011 list, I’ll come back to Atkinson. 

Next up, Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ 'Love in the time of cholera'. I’ve heard it’s a bit heavy going so I’ll get back to you on my progress.

Addled with fail? Probably.

I am partial to few good adjectival phrases like, ‘riddled with gin’. Today’s adjectival phrase of choice is, ‘addled with fail’.

I suppose you could argue that this superlative usage could not be applied to the proceedings of my day. Perhaps I should refer to it as Largely Bi-Polar. 

And so, dear, darling reader, I shall leave the outcome of my day to your good judgement. 

This morning, I woke up - without my alarm set - on time. This is good. 

Ambling downstairs, I find my father making tea. Upon the arrival of The Mothership, I propose breakfast, and there’s much  banter as I prepare and burn an omlette. This is good. 

I get ready for my interview in London, and am ready in good time. Dad offers his taxi services but he takes half an hour to be ready and out the door. It is now 10.55, my interview begins at 12. It takes me 55 minutes door-to-door. This is bad. 

Arriving in Oxford Circus at 11.50, I meet Lovely Eliza from boticca, who gives me my beautiful Little Glass Clementine necklace - a delivery that has been delayed by an un-named weekly glossy (don't ask). This is good (the delivery, not the delay).

Little Glass Clementine

From Oxford Circus, my new, 5 day old, case-less, iPhone 4 provides me with directions to my interview location. This is good. 

I arrive on time, just, but still with my jeans on and my flat boots. My beautiful silk embroidered skirt from Coast (painstakingly preserved for the journey in bags and tissue), and Old Favourites stilettos will have to remain in my bag. This is bad.

The interview (sought-after industry specific business mentoring programme - not a job) goes well. An hour of questioning and some fairly well-constructed but leading answers on my part, they tell me yes, I have a place. This is good. 

They ask me for my trading address. My trading address is in Bristol. They tell me no, I don’t have a place. My trading address is not in London. This is bad.

I receive a message from a friend nearby, and we meet for a London Power Catch Up. He buys me a coffee, which I suspect is particularly because I look rough as arseholes. This is good (the catch up, not my aesthetic). 

I get a text from The Mothership, informing me I’ve left my Bristol keys at Taskis Towers (Chez Taskis and Casa Taskis have fallen from popular usage - where ‘popular’ means me). This is bad.

Getting on my coach, I take a brief, but wholly satisfying call from my best friend. She informs me she is baking a cake. This is good.

Splendid Cake

My coach pulls into Bristol and I head straight a local, friendly curry house. I am handed a beautifully brewed spiced chai masala tea, with a healthy dollop of Golden Syrup. This is good. 

Since my boyfriend is shortly due to arrive for dinner, I decide to change out of my jeans and into my skirt and stilettos in the spirit of ‘making an effort, because I fancy you’. This is good.

Changing, I hear a *clunk, crack*. My iPhone, 5 days old, has vacated my pocket and fallen to the tiled floor of the bathroom. The glass screen is shattered. This is bad. 

Sad iPhone

Despite the dismay and disappointment from the day (and my new found rhyming skillz), I begin to discuss some Fantaskis-grown plans for the future of ethical fashion in Bristol over dinner (delicious lentil dahl & chicken tikka masala). This is good. 

So, what do you think, reader? Addled with fail? Distinctly bi-polar? Gaining less than I have lost? In need of a dose of MTFU?

I am going to sleep as soon as possible to avoid anymore catastrophes. Tomorrow I will visit the Apple Store in search for a resolution. My pride, I think, will take longer to repair. And a relocation to London, perhaps longest of all.

Bristol Green Doors: A Greener Option

The idea was simple. For one weekend across Bristol, homeowners opened their front doors to the public, welcoming them to see how they had taken steps to a more eco-friendly and energy efficient approach to home life. 

If you were expecting cliches of 'Green Living', Bristol Green Doors quickly dispelled all notions of stereotypes at the porch.

The eco-friendly homes of the initiative emphasised the eclectic mix - the varied and diverse aspects - of ethical approaches to everyday living for real people. By 'real', I mean people that have kids, jobs and mortgages.

The hosts were warm, but quintessentially down to earth.

Sitting in the Sarah's living room (York Road, Montpelier), I was envious of her draught-proofed french doors, sky lights and huge windows that let in streams of light from the densely green garden.

It turns out that whilst the builders were fitting the under-floor insulation with Celotex (celotex.co.uk), she was heavily pregnant and accessing the adjacent kitchen via an obliging plank.

Clearly, undertaking an environmentally sound & energy efficient building project does not only require bundles of admirable vision and determined forward-thinking but nerves of steel.

I could empathise with anyone who left a selection of the homes feeling thoroughly underwhelmed. Most measures taken are largely invisible - insulation in the walls is undoubtably a wise, cost-effective and eco-friendly method of keeping your home warm, but you can't see it. Resin between the cracks in wooden floor boards to keep out up-lifting drafts - smart, certainly, but no show-stopping extravaganza.

But in Subtly's defence this is, perhaps, a positive thing. This weekend, ethical living and eco-homes have been offered forth, blending in very neatly with the original architecture and existing lifestyles of the houses and their occupants.

But everyone loves a spectacle, and Bristol Green Doors does not disappoint.

Ushered through to the dappled sunlit patio of Simon's garden (also York Road, Montpelier), his emphasis on ethical living is placed here. He does this for a living (thegreenhouseproject.net) but, among many things, he's made a working studio on a raised platform with a rooftop garden - notably sporting pumpkins, beans and sunflowers. Naturally, it's complete with solar panels to supply the water pump.

The final property I visit is owned by Footprint Building (footprintbuilding.co.uk) (Lansdown Road, Clifton) who are currently renovating the Victorian house with modern eco-friendly building methods and materials. Judging by the kitchen and the finished en-suites, these certainly haven't had a negative impact on style.

Al, Director of Footprint, enthused me with his energy. "Weekends like these are great...it heightens the reality that there is a rapidly growing market for sustainable construction and energy efficient living."

Shamelessly ear-wigging others' conversations, a couple walked in and seemed to confirm Al's confidence; they are renovating their own home and were "going around, asking questions and getting more ideas."

The Bristol Green Doors weekend made it abundantly clear, in these well-loved homes, that there are simple measures that can make a big difference - for everyone.

It's a wonderful penny dropping moment when you encounter a good idea in practise and think, 'Oh! I could do that!'