The snow has brought a welcome change and a reminder of proper Winter. It has been quite cold, but the sun has been bright, and now it's all just starting to get colder again. My plans to walk last week were scuppered by a quite unpleasant cold, which was also sufficiently irritating to prevent my attending the Creative Writing course. The first session I have missed. The response to the previous week's activity was quite good, which is pleasing. More to do before this coming Friday. We have had friends staying with us over the weekend, and managed to get them out on a shortish walk on Saturday as the snow was starting. I think they enjoyed themselves. We are going over to seem them tomorrow, and I'm hoping to get a day's proper walking on Wednesday, with another friend of mine. I will report. My father seems to be improving still, I've had several conversations with him, and I think things are going in the right direction. There still seems to be no immediate need for us to drop everything and go down there. I'm continually reminded in my dealings with him of my theory of being a mirror to him, an idea which is not new, either to my few readers here, or to people in general. I am considering whether I might be helped by learning relaxation techniques, and even to meditate, and am doing some research as to whether there are local people here who could help me. I will see how things go.

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The focus on contemporary fiction is continuing. I have read the new Sherlock Holmes novel by Anthony Horowitz. He has managed to capture the narrative style of the originals, with a slightly more up-to-date twist. Quite impressed. I'm off to my Creative Writing course soon, with this week's scribblings duly prepared. We are doing an exercise in medias res, which I had to look up to be clear what it meant. The news from my parents is that there is a slight improvement in my father's condition. The medication is being reduced, carefully. We shall see. I don't think I'm going to have to go down especially, but am just keeping an eye on what is going on. The length of the days is improving, and with it my mood. I'm hoping to fit in a day next week out hill walking, as this week it hasn't worked out.   

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Creative writing course has kicked off today. Several new people have, excitedly for me, turned up. A few of last term's heavywights are no more, so I have moved up from being the new boy to an old hand. I feel quite good about this, strangely enough. Some of the new guys are published, so it's all going to be very interesting. We have been given an interesting exercise to do this week, which I'm going to have to think about before I attack itf. I have made very careful notes of what is required, so as to try and lift the standard of presentation above the usual level of crap I manage to produce. I'm actually quite excited about it all.

I've been reading the utterings from my friend in Bedfordshire who has not only got some plays published, but is now also having them performed both here and the USA. I am delighted for him and only slightly jealous, in the nicest possible way. Talent will out!

The picture of my Granddaughter which was published as part of my birthday greetings yesterday has a big stir from lots of people. It is a super little image of her. We will be seeing her again quite soon.

The Caro Emerald CD has driven me back to Kirsty MacColl, and Tropical Rainstorm is coming from the Sonos as I write these few words before I return to the paper shuffling which I haven't quite finished.

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My birthday today. A good trip to the Caravan Show in Manchester took place, and I was able to pick up a couple of things I needed at a bit of a discount. I also managed not to buy anything silly or extravagant. After this we went across into the Trafford Centre for a brief period, and I was reminded of the commoditisation of our so-called shopping experience. If we'd been transported there magically I'd have been hard pushed to distinguish the place from anywhere else. The most exciting part of the afternoon was actually getting back on the motorway to escape the city. I got home to be given a copy of the Caro Emerald CD, which I have been playing incessantly. Off to the Mumbai in the evening for a very nice meal.

The news on my father is that he has been diagnosed as having a form of Agitated Depression, and that the GP has brought medication, and a visit from the psychiatric nurse is planned. This last happened ten years ago, when they moved house, and he found it all too much to cope with. This time the business with the income tax has set it off. I hope he recovers soon. Mother seemed okay when I spoke to her earlier, but we shall see.

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I'm planning to go out again tomorrow to ascend another of my unconquered Wainright Fells. This is called Seathwaite Fell, and it involves a longish drive round to Borrowdale. The actual fell is only about 2,000ft high, and should be straight-forward. I will have to be careful, in case there is any ice lurking in the gullies, but I need to go and attempt this one. It is one of those fells which I have been past and around on lots of occasions, but have never been on. If I get to do it there will hopefully be pictures and a report on facebook.

I still have a multitude of tasks facing me, and the temptation to stay in tomorrow and do paperwork is great. I need to produce something for the Writing Course which re-commences this Friday, and I have a couple of ideas. There are also jobs for HF Holidays and the local church which need sorting out. But I intend to go out and try.

The issues with my father continue. He and my mother have been to visit an accountant today, so that part of the situation seems to have moved on, but I think that the anxiety attack that this business has brought on is continuing. I think he will need to see the doctors, and my mother is sorting this out. When they moved house many years ago he had a similar problem, involving doctors and even a psychiatriac nurse before he settled down. This is a great shame, and I don't know what the answer is. My non-professional diagnosis is GAD (general anxiety disorder), and I suspect he has always had it, but that it has come to the surface as he has aged. It seems to manifest itself in a need to be in control, and his distress comes on when he is not in charge of whatever is going on. I hope he will be alright, and hope that mother will be able to cope as well. We are a long way away here, and cannot just pop over to sort things out.

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The circular aspect of life repeated itself this morning. I have been talking to my father at regular intervals over the last week about his own income tax affairs. He has some quite insignificant issues which he thinks need sorting out with HMRC, and in his own inimitable style, has been working himself up into a frenzy of anxiety about this. Yesterday I was disturbed quite early by a telephone call from him during which, over about hafl an hour, I finally persuaded him to take his minor problems to one of the local accountants in the place where he lives. Job jobbed, I thought. Finally, after a week of aggravation a result and a way forward, and much less stress for my poor, long-suffering mother. This has turned out to be far too easy. This morning he has announced that he has decided not to take his problems to the accountant, instead he is going to work them all out himself. Oh, the control-freakery of it all! You just couldn't make this up. After week of upsetting all and sundry in his lack of control he has decided that doesn't need any help, and is going to feed his own anxiety still further.

I was very calm, for me. I hear him and there is a mirror held up reflecting my own behaviour. I repeat this little mantra "don't end up like him, don't end up like him". Perhaps I already am, and what a depressing thought this is. We had a rational conversation where I asked him why he asked for my advice and then took no notice of it, and he didn't answer. I ended up telling him I hoped he had an enjoyable day, and left it there. I wonder how long it will be before I get another call updating me on his progress, and whether I will be able to tell him to stick his tax problems where the sun doesn't shine.

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The problem with the broadband and internet seems to be the AV Homeplugs. I use them to create a network using the house's electrical wiring. They have all stopped communicating with each other, after nearly two years in place. I had to open the emergency box with the old network cables in (I keep lots of things like this), and do an emergency re-wire. All seems to be working, for the moment. Re-configuring of it all will have to wait until later. We decided that, as the bright, clear weather is continuing, we would go out for a walk, and set out for Grasmere, to another really cold day with fabulous clarity and views. A quick circuit of the small lake took a couple of hours, then into Ambleside for tea at out favourite teashop, which turned out to be closed. Never mind, next time! Back to the house and the task of sorting out the network. I decided to do a factory re-set on the AV plugs, followed by re-doing the process of re-linking them together. All this seemed to go well, and after I had put everything back as it was amd turned everything on I realised that the traffic indicator lights were flickering as they had been before yesterday, when everything had been static. A good sign, I felt, and indeed everythnig is now back as before, and I'm doing this on the PC. All the spare stuff is back in its boxes, and tidyness reigns.

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An excellent day. My friend suggested that we go over to the nearby valley of Kentmere and ascend up onto the main ridge using a little used spur. It was a beautiful and cold morning, with the puddles frozen on the tracks, and a clear sky with a promise of good visibility. We walked up the valley until we got to the reservoir, found the start point, and began to go up. I love walking where there are no paths, and despite this route being in the Wainright books as a subsidiary way up, it was obviously little used. It was amazing how quickly we were ascending, and the view back down the spur as we came up was fantastic. It wasn't really very difficult, and suddenly we were level with the main ridge, and then climbing up to the high point called Ill Bell. I've been on the main ridge lots of times, but never by this route, It was fantastic, with the view holding up, a blue sky and a full panorama of visibility. It was still cold, with water frozen in becks and tarns along the summit ridge as we walked back down. What a start to the year.

When I got back to the house and tried to get onto the internet I discovered that there was a problem. I thought that the BT Homehub had gone wrong, and envisaged telephone calls with my favourite organisation to resolve this. I realised after a while that the wifi function was working, as the iPad and phones were connected and getting data and emails. So perhaps there was a different problem? So, I left it, got myself tidied up and went out for my next meeting, which I found unaccountably tedious for all sort of reasons. In the evening I got home to collapse in front of the TV for a couple of hours. I was forced to watch the Graham Norton interview with Madonna, and have to say that as an exercise in sycophancy it will take a lot of beating. The behaviour of the audience in cheering every word spoken, that is after they had sat down from the inexplicable standing ovation they granted the guest at the start of the interview, really has taken the concept of celebrity worship to a new level.

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Life is proceeding in a familiar way, with odd jobs and little footling tasks intruding on real time (whatever that is!). Yesterday I decided to go out walking, despite the weather forecast being unfavourable. I ended up having an enjoyable time out, with the weather being not bad. I didn't get rained on, and managed to pick off another of my unvisited Wainright Fells, Bonscale Pike. Not too strenuous really, and just great to get out in the open. Pictures are posted on my facebook pages. I have thirty-three Wainrights left to do, and I am going to make a big effort to do them this year. No, really. I have lots of paper administration jobs to to do at home, both personal and voluntary, and just now a neighbour has asked if I can prepare an activity report on the website I run for the walking club, for their AGM. I have ignored all these tasks to stop and write this. I suppose I could give everything up and lay on the sofa watching daytime TV. Not ready for that, at all! It is quite interesting how, since it has brightened up here, that my mood has improved. Also, Christmas has gone and won't be back for ages! Now, shall I do the bank reconciliaiton, the payments for the Church accounting system, that report for the walking club, or prepare the other papers that HF Holidays have asked for? Both the cars are filthy as well, and it's dry here. Should I wash at least one of those? I also need to make time to write something creative, the course starts again next week. I've finished reading "One Day", which I was very impressed by, and have nearly finished the next Ian Rankin "Hide and Seek". I think after that it will be "Bel Canto" by Ann Patchett. Onwards....

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The post-Christmas improvement in mood continues. There must be a different plan for 2012. Despite the darkness and rain I feel a general uplift in outlook. I have changed my facebook pages over to the new style, and have to say that I think it a great improvement. I have begun my campaign to read current contemporary fiction during this year. One of the books I asked for as a Christmas present was P D James's "Death Comes To Pemberley", a continuation of the Pride and Prejudice theme. I have managed to get through this in a couple of days, and thought it was excellent,and particularly well done. Very straighforward writing, and a good plot!

I was also given a paperback set of Iain Rankin's "Rebus" novels, and have got through the first of those, "Knots and Crosses" as well. This was again a good read, and I am lining up the next one for after "One Day" the big best seller from last year, by David Nicholls. This has rather gripped me, and a very clever concept, and I am really enjoying it so far. I will report in due course.

I have noticed over the last couple of days that I can see the PC monitor screen better without my spectacles on that with, now. I don't know whether my eyesight prescription is altering, or whether my glasses are just filthy!

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Now, I have survived Christmas and New Year, Dear Reader, and am in another quandary. As is traditional, I have found the pre-Christmas period very difficult, and have on occasions been quite depressed, angry and frustrated. I have in the past blamed this on the darkness at this time of year, and suggested that I do suffer from some aspects of SAD (Seasonally Affected Disorder). Yesterday I returned from my tradtional New Year away with the walking company for whom I lead walks and despite the weather here being as horrible as ever, have to say that I feel a lot better. I wonder whether it has anything to do with the fact that all the Christmas decorations, the tree and everything has now gone away, and that all is as it usually is in the house. I do so enjoy the company of my children and their "other halves", and I know that they like coming here. This last occasion has been enlightened beyond all measure by the presence of my new grand-daughter, who has brought a completely new emphasis to this time of year. It has been fabulous to have her here too. I need to seriously think about some other way for Christmas 2012, because I just can't have all this personal pain and suffering which is affecting the rest of my family too. Perhaps I have become a silly old fool, and am trying not to accept it.

Well, having tried to get that off my chest, I can report other news. I have renewed for the next term of the writing course, and have decided to keep on with the rubbish that I am putting together, Some of the superstars have decided not to carry on, which is a shame, but on the other hand I know it will be less stressful for me with all this over-weening talent around me. I have received some sad news from the North Yorkshire Moors Railway, where I am a volunteer signalman. One of my colleagues died there the other day, while working in the signalbox. Very sad for his family, especially at this time of year, but what a way to go, doing something you really love.

We will be down at some point soon to see our grand-daughter, and I hope to be able to visit our friends in Bedfordshire, whom I miss very much, and who always seem very interested in what I've been getting up to. Heaven knows why.  

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I've looked this morning and realised that a month has passed since I have posted. I am surprised, and will express my intention of trying to post more often. The Writing Course continues to challenge. I have found myself entering a familiar, good week, bad week experience at the class. I have referred to this previously in connection with learning to be a signalman on the NYMR, and linking it back to the days of learning to drive. I now realise that a lot of it is psychological, and driven by my own expectations each time I go to the class. The standard of the writings remains surprisingly high, there are some excellent (and practiced) people there. In particular the work of one of the ladies, Dinah, is always impressive, well written and with an excellent plotline. I sat down yesterday afternoon to do this week's exercise without any real idea of what I was going to write, and after a couple of hours effort have produced about 800 words which I think is not bad. I will be revising it after I have written this and made coffee. One thing has become clear to me. If I have any real aspirations to be good at this I am going to have to put in a lot more time and effort than I have so far. I have allowed my supposedly retired life to fill with all sorts of things, and I do at times get quite stressed with the amount of activities and interests I am running in parallel. The old phrase "Jack of all trades is Master of none" is absolutely right, and I have allowed myself to be stretched and spread too thin like butter on bread when there isn't enough to go round. (This is a reference from The Fellowship of the Ring, near the beginning, I don't claim it as an original!). So I have to decide if I'm going to continue with the Writing Course, and find the time to do all the contemporary fiction reading I should be doing (and aren't) as well, in order to make progress.     

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The creative writing course is going well, and helping me to mine the creative seam, however thin this may be. This week's exercise is complete, and I'm quite pleased with it. I've realised I can sit down for a couple of hours and create something, even if the end point isn't obvious when I start out. And I do get a bit of a buzz when I've finished, which was a little unexpected but very welcome.  The other story I've been working on is continuing to take shape. I've almost reached the point with it where I don't know where to stop, and what I'm going to do with it. Perhaps I should take it in and ask the others and the tutor what they think of it. A good friend of mine is writing heavily down in the South, and has started on the NaNoWriMo "write a book in November" thing, which I've just found about.  This sounds very exciting, and I wish him well. I shall await his effort with interest.

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Exactly forty years ago today a rather nervous eighteen year old arrived at the Moorgate Office in London of what was then called the Abbey National Building Society. It was my first day at full time work. There is a bit of a back story to this. I had felt great pressure from my parents, particularly my father, whose education was severely disrupted by the war, to go to university. I was unable to obtain even the offer of a place, after filling in my UCCA forms and sending them off, and started to receive the little reject slips through the post. Very dispiriting, and some of the other boys at school who had places offered were quite unkind, as boys can be. I decided instead that I would be a Chartered Accountant, and told my father of this change in policy. This involved an interesting discussion. To get started as an articled clerk one needed a firm to take you on, and two A level passes. There was then a one year full time college course which would jump you through to the intermediate stage of the exams. I had all this organised, with a firm in Romford and the course in Chadwell Heath. Easy, then, problem. A level result day came, with only one pass, in Economics. I had failed the French and German A levels. I was actually given another O in French, to go alongside the one I already had. This was a depressing time, I felt rather stupid and disorganised, as the very idea of failing the A levels had simply not been part of the future scenario. I must obviously be stupid. There was also the question of dealing with father. After a mooning about sort of phase I decided that I should get a job, and looked for various things, in the City of London. I remember going to interviews with Barclays and Norwich Union, both based in Fenchurch St, and also to an insurance brokers in the old Lloyds Building. Then I saw an advert in the Telegraph, from the Abbey, for Management Trainees. They seemed to have lots of vacancies, and had a policy of allowing people to study and take exams. I went for interview and got the job. I ended up staying there for almost thirty-two years, watching them change into a PLC, then decide to drop the National bit from their name, and then screwing it up by having to revalue assets and write off a couple of billion from the balance sheet, and being taken over by Santander. I'd actually left by then, having done far better than I ever envisaged. It was hard work, and I didn't always enjoy it, but I stuck at it (I had to because of the family), and it all paid off in the end. Not bad for a thicko with one A level.

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Last Thursday I went out with the local walking group and we ascended to the summit of Great Gable, on a beautiful day, which seems to have been the last day of Summer, certainly judging by the weather over the last couple of days. I've taken some pictures which are on my facebook page and blipfoto journal. http://blipfoto/popsofbarton

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