On Board The Good Ship Friend...

...or in other words, I should have just called this 'on friendship' but I was being a smart arse.

I have the most amazingly wonderful friends in the entire history of the world. Seriously. My friends are better than your friends, and I know this because they are able to put up with me without wanting to strangle me with a sock. Or, if they ever HAVE wanted to strangle me with a sock, they've been awesome enough to keep it to themselves and never act on such an impulse. What can I say? My friends just rock.

Some of my friends I've known since forever, and it embarrasses me only slightly that they can still recall what I looked like at that school disco; bless them for their sweetness in never mentioning it. Others have fallen by the wayside but a very rare few are still hanging around. Quite WHY they're still hanging around I haven't entirely figured out, but it shows that I must be doing something right. I love you muchly.

Others I have only known for a couple of years or so, and this includes the mighty tribe of Forumbat, who are actually THE most awesome people you could ever hope to meet. Whenever I find myself in a down moment (which, lets be honest, isn't exactly a rare occurrence for a mardy cow like me), I just think of all the epic times I've had as a Forumbat and before you can say Robert is your mother's brother I'm laughing like a fool. Although apparently not everyone gets the joke and tends to look at you a bit oddly if the answer to their question, "er, what are you laughing at?" is the ecstatic response "squirrels with beards!!" What can I say, it's their loss...Anyway, I love you very muchly also and insist that you all remain as bonkers and brilliant as you are now.

However. Oh, but however. If there is one thing guaranteed to make me turn into a snarling, spitting, biting, scratching she-wolf (yes, one that's even worse than I normally am) it's anyone foolish enough to attempt to rain on my friends parades. I had fisticuffs in secondary school with a few people in defence of my friends and believe me, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. My friends are amazing people, for reasons that I couldn't even begin to list, but the main one is they put up with me and my madness and for that they deserve to be defended to the death. (Or possibly sectioned. Or a medal. Or all three). I can't stand it when my friends are unhappy, and although it's taken me a while to learn that sometimes I can't actually fix it and the best thing I can do is just be there for them, there's still an instinct inside me that makes me want to go charging into battle on their behalf. I fail to understand why anyone would want to do something to make any of my friends unhappy when they're such amazing people; it's complete anathema to me. I'm not saying they're perfect (sorry guys) because they're only human, after all, but actually they are pretty darn special and I pity anyone who can't see that.

So this is a friendly warning, a heads-up, a shot across the bows, if you will. If you are one of the foolish, foolish people who have ever dared to upset one of my friends, any of them, you better pray like hell to whatever-it-is you believe in that our paths never cross. Because let me tell you something, only one of us will walk away from the encounter unscathed and it won't be you. I can do things with plastic teaspoons that are hitherto unknown to man, so you better wise up and shut up if you want to keep walking the way you do. I don't intend to kill you, I'm not that soft, but you may well be left wishing I had. Don't say I didn't warn you.

And if you are one of my friends, especially the one who inspired this rant because of some morons pathetic opinion and complete lies, listen up because this bit is for all of you. I love you, I will always be there for you and even if I can't fix it I'll do my darndest to try. If all I can do is let you cry till snot dribbles all over my favourite jumper, it's a sacrifice I will gladly make. I won't even charge you for the dry cleaning. I can't fight your battles for you and I can't always provide the right answers, but even if all I can do is be at the end of a computer screen or a phone, I am here for you. We may argue, we may disagree over stupid things and I know for sure I'm not perfect, but I love you all and will cheris every single memory we've shared - even the not so great ones, where we fought over a boy in college or something equally stupid - until the day I die.

Thank you for being my friends and thank you for giving me so much love, laughter, inspiration, frustration, jealousy, pride and every other emotion possible. You are, quite simply, the best.

Love Kate xxx

On National Domestic Abuse Awareness Week...

Some statistics for you...

1) 1 in 4 women in the UK will experience domestic abuse at some time in their life, as will 1 in 6 men.
2) Every minute, a domestic abuse related call will be made to a police force somewhere in the UK.
3) Less than 40% of domestic abuse cases will be reported to the police.
4) On average, a woman will be abused 35 times before she first calls the police.
5) In 30% of domestic abuse cases, the abuse started during pregnancy.
6) At least 750,000 children a year witness domestic violence, which can cause them physical, emotional, psychological and behavioural damage.
7) On average, two women a week are killed by a violent partner or ex-partner.

Pretty shocking stuff, isn't it? Oh, I know domestic abuse is 'my thing' and that I'll willingly stand on my soapbox and rant about it to all and sundry, but I honestly think these stats speak for themselves. How is it that in the 21st Century, when Man has been to the Moon, for goodness sake, we can still be so backwards when it comes to dealing with domestic abuse?

The current and accepted Government definition of domestic abuse is: any incident of threatening behaviour, violence or abuse (psychological, physical, sexual, financial or emotional) between adults who are or have been intimate partners or family members, regardless of gender or sexuality. In both my professional and my personal life, I have seen the damage that domestic abuse can do to women and children, for it is mainly women and children who are the victims of this crime.

It is never acceptable.

It is never right.

This week is National Domestic Abuse Awareness Week, which culminates in the International Day for the Elimination of Violence and Women on Thursday 25th November. I know I go on about it. I know I rant about it. But you know what? Until every woman and child feels safe in their home and can live without the threat of domestic abuse hanging over their heads, I and many other people simply won't shut up. And so I am asking anyone who read this please, please sign the White Ribbon Pledge; men, to show that you won't ever commit, condone or keep silent about violence to women; and women, that you will support men who honour this pledge. Unless we stand together we will never stop it, and no one should ever have to live in fear of the person they love. I signed the pledge. Now I'm asking you to do the same, to show your support. If you do just one thing on the internet today, make it this.

http://www.whiteribboncampaign.co.uk/

Thank you.

Love Kate xx

Liberty...But Only Within The Strict Ordinances Of The Regime...

As those of you who know and tolerate me will know by now, I can be a teeny bit vocal when it comes to politics. More than one of you will have been subjected to one of my rants about the bunch of muppets that pass for our elected leaders these days, among various other diatribes, and no doubt some of you (or all of you) have disagreed with me about something. And while I still stand by the statement that the current Government are bunch of posh morons with nary an iota of common sense amongst them, I am profoundly grateful to them for one thing - that I live in a country where, if I want to protest about David Cameron's idiotic policies or say that actually I don't really give a monkeys about William and Kate's wedding thank you very much, I can do so without fear of being gagged, tortured or thrown into prison for it.

The reason for this blog post is something that I read in the Times today (I know - posh, right?) But it really struck a chord with me, especially in the wake of the long-awaited release of Aung San Suu Kyi in Burma, who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991 while under house arrest for her unflagging efforts to bring democracy and human rights to that troubled country. This years Nobel Peace Prize winner-elect is Liu Xiaobo of China, another tireless campaigner for human rights in democracy in yet another troubled country. I say winner-elect because, if Mr Liu or a member of his family are unable to collect the prize, it may well not be awarded at all. Mr Liu is, however, in prison, his wife is currently under house arrest and the Chinese Government have just banned the rest of his family from travelling outside the country. Their crime? To attempt to bring democracy and basic human rights to a regime that point-blank refuses to acknowledge that such things exist. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 21st century...

What has made this even more bizarre, apart from the obvious fact of locking up someone who hasn't actually done anything wrong, has been China's response to the news. When Mr Liu's wife went for her monthly visit to the prison two days after the announcement and told him the good news, the authorities promptly had her locked up under house arrest. They have also accused the Nobel Committee of all kinds of shenanigans, and have even written to all the other nations asking them to boycott the event. Surprise, surprise, Russia are going along with their demands. *rolls eyes*

So what exactly did Liu Xiaobo actually DO to merit such treatment? Well, in the words of the Committee who have, despite the 'advice' of China, decided to award the prize, Mr Liu has been involved in "a long and non-violent struggle for fundamental human rights in China". He is currently two years into an eleven year sentence for 'subversion', whatever the hell that means, and co-wrote Charter 08, a document designed to promote political reform and human rights in China. It was for his involvement in this document that he was arrested, just a few hours before it was published, and many others who have signed this document have also been taken in and 'questioned'. All for trying to introduce to their country the same basic rights and dignities we in the Westernized world selfishly take for granted.

It's actually impossible to underestimate the bravery of this man, just as it's impossible to underestimate the bravery of Aung San Suu Kiyi. To try and save themselves from the embarrassment of having a Nobel prize winner in jail, the government of China have made Mr Liu an offer, one they've made to other 'awkward' prisoners in the past such as Wang Dan, the student leader of the demonstrations that eventually led to the outrageous massacre of Tianamen Square in 1989. If he will apply for medical parole and sign a 'confession', they'll release him from prison and he will be exiled from the country forever. But, like so many other brave men and women who exist under the oppressive regime in China, Mr Liu has refused to sign any such spurious confession, preferring instead to serve his sentence and stay in China in order to better serve his country.

Liu Xiaobo's courage, like that of so many others around the world, is humbling. Next time I complain bitterly about some ridiculous law of Government in this country, I shall do so with thanks to the Powers That Be that I can do so freely and openly, that I can join a protest march in London or petition against the leaders of the land; and I shall also think of Mr Liu in his prison cell, of Aung San Suu Kiyi as she adjusts to her freedom, and of the hundreds of thousands of other men, women and children across the world who don't have that right...

The Most Fun You Can Have...

This post was inspired by my dearly beloved and completely twisted GBF, who today made the following pronouncement:

"Ah, feeding the ducks. The most fun you can have with your clothes off."

Once I'd stopped falling about laughing at the statement (come to Southend; we feed ducks in the nude! We know how to have fun!) it got me thinking. *dons Carrie Bradshaw voice* What IS the most fun you can have with your...ok, ok, I'm kidding! But it DID start a discussion about our favourite things to do that are free...

The Top Five...

1) Feeding the ducks. With or without clothes, depending on your preference, although I highly recommend going equipped in garments of some sort. Less chilly. Also means you'll be less likely to be arrested. All you need is a park with a duck pond and some stale-ish bread, which can usually be obtained from either your own stores or by begging some from friends and relations. And yes, you may be the only adult there without a small child to assist you (for authenticity/camouflage purposes I suppose you could always borrow a small child from somewhere, but they have a tendency to ruin the atmosphere and to attempt to throw themselves headlong into the water). Et voila - a perfectly enjoyable pastime. Bread, ducks...is there anything more peaceful? Just avoid the geese - they can be nasty.

2) Libraries. Ahhhh, libraries. I have already written of my reverence for these wonderful seats of learning and shelter from the cold for the local aged, infirm and generally mental population (no one said this was PC, ok?) but there really is nothing better than pitching up to a library, settling yourself down in a corner somewhere and voraciously devouring books. Which you are then allowed to take home. For FREE!! I demand to know who first came up with this revolutionary and marvellous idea so that I can shake their hand...

3) Museums and art galleries. Admittedly there may be a small cost for this, such as a train fare to London and a bun in the cafe (and, if you're me, a shedload of money in the shop afterwards), or perhaps a small donation, but we live a country where some of the greatest paintings and bits of Ye Olde Historical Tat have been put together under one roof (or several roofs, if you're being picky about it) for our enjoyment, and nary a compulsory entrance fee among them. I might even go as far as to say the ones you DO have to pay for are rubbish...unless it's the Lawnmower Museum. Because that is just genius, obv.

4) People watching. Piece of cake, this: find somewhere that has people in it, or that people pass through at regular intervals. Sit down somewhere nearby. Observe your fellow man. Laugh internally at the hilarity/pointlessness/stupidity of your fellow man. Feel bad for being so judgemental...

5)We struggled with number 5, I'll admit. I wanted 'curling up at home with a good dvd and some hot chocolate' but Lee pointed out this necessitates spending money on a home, a dvd, a dvd player, a tv AND hot chocolate. He wanted listening to music, but I got just as pedantic and pointed out you need to spend money on music and something to play it on in the first place. We then thought sleeping, but again - money for beds. And a house. In the end we came up with sitting outside gazing up at the moon and stars, and watching the sun rise and set.

We are but simple creatures, me and the GBF...even if we DO feed he ducks while naked...

The Curse of the NaNo Plot Bunnies...

Now there's a title for a new book...well, maybe when I finally get around to finishing this one, I shall write it. (Not to mention the small matter of all my other unfinished ficlets whose characters abuse me constantly for forgetting about them. I must finish 'Children of the Revolution' before the next millenia, otherwise they may kill me...not to mention the two and a bit fantasy novels I found half-started in a notebook the other day, all of which need doing because, dammit, they're good. Ish.)

But I digress. And procrastinate, something I've been doing rather well at throughout the *checks NaNo discombobulator* 16 days of NaNoWriMo. As you may have guessed, it's going swimmingly. Not. The two stories I was originally going to write both fell by the wayside, so now I'm only writing one and it wasn't one I'd planned on doing in the first place. Don't you love it when a plan comes together like that? [/sarcasm] However, I am rather in love with my new story. It's a steampunk-esque Jack the Ripper-based novel, with a fiesty heroine, a supernatural twist and guest appearences by a (very) thinly-disguised Doctor Watson from the Sherlock Holmes stories; a fan fiction-based Bill Sikes from Oliver Twist, complete with dog; long dead poets and, er, the Elephant Man. Please don't ask me how poor Joseph Merrick came to be part of this whole shebang because it wasn't planned, but lo and behold there he is. God bless him. And the steampunk thing is just me being a tad obsessed with the whole genre. Cos I like to make things difficult for myself.

A brief synopsis:

London, 1888. Death stalks the East End district of Whitechapel, striking fear into the hearts of all citizens of the fair capital. At the bidding of her mysterious mentor Charlotte Gunner-Hawkyns, the headstrong only daughter of a widowed wealthy lawyer, investigates the murders using 'steampunk' technology and the help of her sailor lover and a streetwise but loyally affectionate urchin, all the while thwarting her aunt’s suggestion of marriage to a Viscount and the stifling social whirl that this would entail. She knows Queen Victoria, has an inventor on speed-dial, and is mentored by a mysterious yet ancient old man who knows a thing or two about the darker side of life. Can Charlotte identify the Ripper and stop him from killing again? Will her aunt’s scheme to marry her off be thwarted? Who exactly IS her mysterious teacher? All this and more will be revealed…

Well, it will be revealed if I ever get off my bum and write. Right! Enough procrastination - I've characters to torment. 22,723 words and counting...erk!!

Remembrance Writing...

I know, I know - two blog posts for the price of one, right? And I have yet to fill you all in on Brighton. To follow, I promise...But I just wanted to post this because, for some ridiculous reason, I am quite proud of this poem. Since November 1st I've been writing a poem every day, the idea being that by Samhain next year I'll have 365 poems to do something with. Burn, probably. Who knows? Anyway, since today is Remembrance Day, I took it as the theme of my poem this evening and as I'm procrastinating like anything instead of NaNo-ing, I thought I'd post because I actually quite like it...

Red The Poppy, White The Grave (A Villanelle)

I do not know your names, but I know you died.
Fighting for your land in some foreign field.
Today we shall remember you with pride...

And what of all the friends you fought beside,
Who answered when the country first appealed?
I do not know your names, but I know you died.

Through mud and blood and desert you did stride,
And not to fear or anger did you yield.
Today we shall remember you with pride...

How many of you left at home a bride,
And learnt to keep your sorrow tightly sealed?
I do not know your names, but I know you died.

For when your country sent you, you complied
And all your own emotions were concealed.
Today we shall remember you with pride...

In conflicts past and present you abide,
And now at last your bravery's revealed.
I do not know your names, but I know you died.
Today we shall remember you with pride...

Not that bad for a half hour's work, methinks (oh-so modestly). If only my NaNo novel was as easy; of the two that I started on November 1st, both have now fallen by the wayside and I've decided to concentrate on the story that replaced the Arthurian legend one. It's a sort-of steampunk Jack the Ripper thing, with a twist. Now I just need to crack on, catch up and get writing. GO!

We Will Remember Them...

Only one of my grandads served in the army during the Second World War. My Mum's dad was only a child, so he was evacuated, but my Dad's dad fought for his country in the heat and dust of Egypt and in the bloodbath that was Monte Cassino. That's pretty much all I know because apart from the occasional almost-jokey story (scorpions in your boots being a favourite of mine as a child, and the one about Grandad almost dropping an artillery shell on his foot - he was in the Royal Army Service Corps, I believe, supplying the frontlines with ammunition - never failed to amaze me) my Grandad, like so many of the brave men and women of his generation, never spoke about what he did during the war. Sadly, by the time I was old enough to want to know, he was too ill to have the conversation with and as I didn't want to upset him I never really brought it up. It's one of the many things I regret not asking him when he was alive, but it makes me no less proud to stand up at 11am on Remembrance Day and think of him and his courage, because I don't care what anyone else says - serving your country during a conflict, knowing that you might end up making the ultimate sacrifice, is a very brave thing to do. Of course my Arhoo, and any other service personnel for that matter, would see it differently, but that's what makes them so special.

A friend of mine currently serves in the army, although happily not for much longer as he will be leaving at the end of the month and returning to Civvy Street. His battalion have lost several men, some of them barely older than boys, in their tours of Afghanistan. I was born in the middle of the Falklands war, when 257 British military personnel lost their lives. My stepdad's father served in Burma; a friend's father fought in Korea, both often forgotten conflicts. The futility of war has been well documented; others continue to sing its praises and yet wherever and whenever you are in time there is a war raging somewhere in the world.

The men and women of the British Armed Forces, both past and present, have had to be incredibly strong, brave and resilient. They risk their lives for Queen and Country, fighting in every corner of this earth in an attempt to uphold Right and Justice and to keep us ordinary folks free and safe. They fill me full of admiration and intense pride, and on this Remembrance Day I will be thinking of all of them. I'll be thinking of Rob and the things that he has seen, thankful that soon he'll be home and safe. I'll be thinking of the friends and comrades he leaves behind, and of those he has already seen fall. I'll be thinking of the men and women serving in Afghanistan; of those who have fought and in many cases died in this and many other conflicts throughout the world. Most of all I shall be thinking of my Arhoo and the quiet dignity and courage of a man who served his country yet never spoke of it.

At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them...

The Wanderer Returns...

So I am back from the frozen and miserable wastes of Wolverhampton. And no, for once this is not me being melodramatic; it was bloody cold, wet and inexorably miserable up there. I can’t even imagine it being nice in the sunshine. And there’s not much to do, either…but I shall come on to that.

So why, I hear you ask, was a pathetic Southern softy like me up in the Midlands area when I was clearly so unimpressed with the place. Well, dearest blog-verse, t’was not my design, but I was there to see a band. And not just any band but the mighty and utterly fantabulous Apocalyptica. And, what is more, I went to said gig in said Midlands’s town with my Baby. It was, in fact, epic for many reasons…

Obviously, the most fabulous reason was seeing Gemma. Gem-Gem, you are such a warm and wonderful person that I can’t quite believe I’ve only known you a year. I always have so much fun when we’re together and Thursday was no exception. It’s also nice to know that I’m not the only dedicated/certifiable Apocalyptica fangirl in the gang; I finally rocked up to the party at about 3.30pm on the day after travelling up that morning, but Gem had been firmly in place at the front of the queue since 10am. Now that is dedication…I also got to meet the equally awesome Nick, Sophie and Tori, who had been queuing with the Baby since about 12, and I finally got to meet Imogen and Cez. Guys, you are all fantabulous people and you made queuing up in the cold absolutely hilarious. Whenever I see coach loads of slightly scared-looking school children, I shall think of you all and cackle hysterically. I haven’t had so much fun in ages and you were all awesome.

Once they opened the doors and we got inside, we managed to be right at the very front of the stage. We were on the right hand side, because the pesky VIP’s had managed to bag the centre spot, but as it turned out it was a pretty good spot. The first support band were called Awake By Design; never heard of them but damn, they were amazing!! Bassist was cute too…*cough* Anyway, they were really, really god; so much so that I bought their debut album after the show – best fiver I’ve spent in a long while, I reckon…

The next band on were Pain of Salvation, who I’ve heard a lot about (and heard Daniel Gildenlow sing on an Ayreon album) but I didn’t know their stuff especially. I am a convert. Daniel’s voice is even more amazing live, and he’s so charismatic on stage…they were brilliant. I couldn’t tell you what they played, but I’d see them again for sure.

And then, of course, there was Apocalyptica. I honestly think they are one of my favourite ever bands to see live, and this time I was right in the front. I got to exchange sticky-out-tongues with Perttu (sigh…) and was close enough to shriek at Mikko like a banshee when he came to join the other guys at the front. It. Was. Epic. And Gem had got some bags of wine gums for them (cos they like wine gums, apparently) and had stuck stickers on them so that there was one for each of the four guys from Gem, Cez, Imy and me. Awesome idea, sweetie, and Perttu certainly looked like he appreciated them!! All in all, it was a fabulous, fabulous evening and will go down as one of my favourite ever gig experiences. Thanks to Gemma, Imy, Cez, Nick, Sophie and Tori for making it all so much fun, and to Awake By Design, Pain of Salvation and Apocalyptica for making me completely deaf and spend most of Friday with my sexy husky voice after I screamed so much. It was appreciated.

Friday was spent wandering the streets of Wolverhampton like a vagabond, trying to find something to do before my train left at 7.45pm. There is a lovely art gallery that I wandered around very happily for two hours, and then I took the five giraffes Thelma, Louise, Brad, Butch and Sundance (sorry, Mooms, they’ll always be Butch and Sundance to me) down to the canals so we could take piccies of locks and ducks and things, but then it started to rain and I had to find something to do. Sadly, there isn’t anything to do, unless you like shopping centres. I went and looked round the church, which was very pretty, but it was a long, cold, wet afternoon. Still, I can now say I’ve been to Wolverhampton. Er, yeah…

On a brighter note, I am off to lovely Brighton tomorrow to see Hellyeah, Avenged Sevenfold and Stone Sour. Corey Taylor will certainly put a smile back on my face…marvellous…

And So The Epic Adventure Begins...

Well, that was an unqualified success...not. Having set myself the task of writing two novels for NaNoWriMo this year, I've stumbled at the first hurdle. And so farewell, Morgan LeFaye and King Arthur in your Swinging Sixties remake - 300 words in and I could tell you weren't going to play ball. (Although bugger the lot of you for annoying the hell out of me for weeks and then getting stage fright at the last minute...) Even the turning-of-the-short-story-into-novel may not be as straightforward as I initially thought, so this could be a very long 30 days.

Having said that, I have just opened a blank Word document and might just go with what I did the first year and write whatever comes into my head, with no thought of plot, marvellous prose or what the hell my characters think they're doing. Watch this space...

And to all those who are also embarking on the long and perilous NaNo voyage, I bid you luck and shall see you all on the other side. It's a long and ardouous journey, but at the end of it we'll emerge blinking into the sunlight wired on caffeine, skinny as they come and rambling incoherantly, but dammit, we're writers...bring it on!!