Virtual Meets Real - Scary!

Remember when I was left alone in Mukono for three months by my husband...? He went on sabbatical to write his PhD... The first night he had gone, when I was feeling very strange and bereft, I had a facebook message from Dutch friends - do you want to play Settlers on-line tonight? This was amazing, because, they were by then in Mexico, and I was in Uganda - and yet we played a real game of Settlers of Catan, with no delays, on a games website. You can chat to each other in the box at the side, trade cards, move your pieces - it was really great fun, and felt just like being with those great people.

But just for a few minutes, I was on the games website when they had left it - and a "voice" in a box invited me to join another game. I knew that if you didn't have a "real" friend to play with, you also could play with bots, who had names - so I asked this newcomer, "Er, excuse me, but are you a real person - or a bot?" "Haha I'm real, I'm ...  from Holland." I was outta there! I didn't even reply!

That was ages ago, but last week something else funny happened, where virtual became real. I was making some favourites list, of books set in Africa, on Goodreads. I gave five stars to "Blood River" by Tim Butcher, and to "Dance with the Devil" also by him. Two minutes later, an email appeared in my inbox - from Tim Butcher! I opened it thinking it was some automated reply - but it really was an email from Tim Butcher, thanking me for giving his books a high rating, and saying how, as a relatively new author, he is still thrilled to get reader feed-back. I was so excited to get his email! I wrote back saying that I had truly loved his books and had recommended them to zillions of people. But I didn't tell him I had reviewed his book on my blog - because it suddenly felt like I had been over-enthusiastic and maybe even a bit gushy! If I had know Tim Butcher was going to read my review, I might have written it a bit differently! Now he might read this. Oh dear!

Then again, a while ago I had written a blog about my two years in Zambia at a girls school. Well, this week I got an email out of the blue, from a former pupil of Mukinge, not from my time there - but she said she read my blog about the school and just appreciated me going there and shared happy memories of that school.  It was really lovely to hear from her. We both ended our emails, "God bless you." That's a good outcome of blogging, right - connecting with someone and sharing good memories and some encouragement.

It's just that when virtual proves to be real after all, it is unnerving. It's probably important for us to realise that. We are seeing young people getting into all kinds of trouble because of not realising that. We are seeing people saying terrible things about other people on Twitter - perhaps because they don't quite realise that - would they say that thing to or about the person if they were standing right in front of them?

Strange new world we live in.

Days getting shorter

I am on holiday for a whole week while Abby and Alex are at school! Not that they are happy about it... But it has given me time to get my eyes checked, my hair cut, a bit of shopping done, cleaning done, and today, a beautiful walk with the Noggin (the dog).

I am still quite besotted with Frodo. And with the English countryside. And with sunshine...

As the days being to shorten, I am clingin onto any chances to be outside and not wet/freezing. I have enjoyed the apples, the blackberries, the leaves changing colour, and the chance to put on boots and scarves again. I have also welcomed back the TV programmes that come on in the autumn. I am trying to be glad of the change of seasons... to enjoy how they mark out our year and complement each other and give us a chance to see new things, to see the cycle of life...

But really, I would like it to be spring and then summer all year round. OK, a sunny autumn like this one is actually fine, even lovely. But, I don't want the Winter!!! I am dreading the dark, cold afternoons.  
Perhaps I need to learn to live each day in all its beauty, and not think ahead so much to what is coming. And this autumn is really beautiful.

Andrew Marr, Art, and Life...

Andrew Marr is one of our well-known, most characterful television presenters. He is mostly a political analyst, who brings his dry sense of humour to bear to make political items on the news a bit more fun and interesting (so speaks the non-political me). Poor man had a stroke in January, but he is making a good recovery and is back presenting his weekly show. I went to hear him speaking at the Cheltenham Literature Festival, about his new book on art, and why humans do it.

He is a pretty good artist, but art is not his thing-he-is-famous-for, and the pictures he showed us, which appear in his book, were a mixture of brilliant and, fairly ordinary. But he said a few interesting things along the way, one of which was that he draws three or four times a week, and finds it beneficial, because we all need to spend time "praising the world around us." He went on to say that for him, drawing is probably like praying - not being "a religious man," as he put it. He also said that doing art makes you look at things more, and see things better - which I completely agree with. When I started trying to paint clouds, I suddenly looked at clouds in a lot more detail - where are the shadows, where are the edges - can you call them edges? ... how much grey is there, how many different greys... and other colours? (as Vermeer points out to the Girl in the Pearl Earring...)

I have not managed to do any art for over a year. The last thing I painted was a daffodil, in spring 2012. And it wasn't very good.

But Andrew Marr's talk inspired me to get back to it. He is right that doing art is therapeutic. It makes me enjoy the world around me more. It engrosses me in the right side of the brain, the creative side, which is fun, and  gives me a break from thinking about other things. Making art, even if it is not very good art, is satisfying. We have a natural desire to be making things, all of us do. Some of us write, or cook, or sew, or garden, or play music, but it is all a way of making things. The children in my library make new pictures everyday and want me to stick them up - I already have pictures on top of pictures on the notice board! Here are the bird pictures I painted today (with a thank you to Madeleine Floyd whose style I copied to help me get started...)

The dire worries of young children

So I am adjusting to a whole new ball-game now, working with children aged 7 to 13. It is mainly great fun, and the children are mainly endearing, ultra enthusiastic, and funny. And it is enlightening as well.

Two incidents yesterday in school made me realise a couple of things:

Firstly, I get totally involved in how other people are feeling, and really feel it with them. This is because I have a very high something or other in my DISC Personality Profile, which makes me empathetic - trouble is, I sometimes feel things way more strongly than the actual feeler of the thing does. And, they often get over it and move on while I am still feeling bad for them.

These were the incidents:
A girl came up to me after lunch, right up to my side and took hold of my arm, her face all scrunched up, and said "... something bad... I had to carry my timetable round with me everywhere so I took it to lunch and put it on my tray and then I handed the tray into the dishwashers and left it on there, and now it's lost, and the teacher can get very cross..." Since it was her individual timetable for her special lessons, she couldn't get a copy from a friend. She was afraid of getting into trouble and wanted me to go into the dishwashing area and try to rescue the timetable! I actually did not consider doing that, but I did offer to as the teacher on her behalf, but she said she would just be brave and tell her...

Later a class came into the library, and a nine year old boy was in trouble with the English teacher for not having a "reading book" - so she asked me to help him pick one - mouthing to me "Very  Low Ability!" So the boy looked at a few easy books but then lit upon the Anthony Horowitz series which his friends are reading - I told him it was too hard for him, but he said "Just because I can't spell very well, but I can read, and all my friends are reading these..." But when the English teacher saw him with it, she rounded on him and said, "That is way too hard for you, we've talked about this before, choose a MUCH easier book" - and I felt terrible for him, wanting to read the cooler book - and not being allowed to try it, but then again the teacher probably knows he won't be able to, which made me feel sad for him, stuck with the stupid books for younger kids... He picked out a Michael Morpurgo, but then his music teacher came to fetch him and he left his book behind in the Library! So now, he is probably in trouble again with the English teacher! And he probably doesn't feel as bad as I do that he can't read Anthony Horowitz.

Another thing I realised is that the feelings of worry (for the girl) or frustration and unfairness (for the boy) were so huge and real in the moment, but for me as the adult I could see, when I wasn't caught up in my empathising, that there was nothing to worry about: the teacher might be a bit cross momentarily, but would give the girl a new timetable, and the boy might have to wait for now but there are years ahead for him to read all the great books. I am sure that the worries I have, bad as they seem to me at the time, look to God as the children's worries look to an adult. If only I could step back and see things from God's higher, bigger, wider perspective - my things would be suddenly so small, so insignificant, it would be such a relief.