Leigh’s Scribblings

Today I learned a lot about the history of my city, on the Big Brum Buz Tour. This is a 90-minute open-top guided bus tour which was apparently used to run years ago and was recently resurrected in Birmingham. But no, owing to today’s dire weather, I did not avail myself of a roof seat.

The informative running commentary is aimed chiefly at tourists, but also local residents with a desire to discover more about their city. There were passengers aboard this afternoon from New York, Poland, Reading, London and, er, Castle Bromwich. Some were furiously jotting information in notebooks.

Neville, the driver, and Kay, our bubbly guide, took us through the commercial heartland of Colmore Row, past numerous examples of city’s magnificent Victorian architecture, through the famous Jewellery Quarter, along the ‘golden mile’ of Broad Street, through Edgbaston, through Digbeth and Deritend, past the Bull Ring and the more modern iconic Selfridges building, and back to our meeting point opposite St Philips Cathedral.

It can be easy to take the sights and sounds of your locale for granted, and one thing I enjoyed today was hearing the manner in which Birmingham, its landmarks and eminent residents are presented to, as it were, outsiders. Sometimes to view a place through fresh eyes can be so energising. I learned an abundance of historical facts and quirky snippets of trivia.

As I said, the weather today was vile. It has rained relentlessly all day, I got a wet Brum bum, and my fellow passengers and I collectively whiffed of musty cagoule. The dye from my jeans dripped on to my trainers, customising them with lovely blue streaks! By the time we disembarked, my teeth were chattering – in June! – from sitting still so long in a sopping cagoule.

I hadn’t travelled on any kind of bus for years, and had forgotten the mysterious water that drips from the top of the windows in every single one (actually I’m sure this phenomenon occurs even when it isn’t raining). As I shuffled into the middle of my seat to avoid the trickly window, I could have been 14 again, back on the rickety old school coach!

Not that I’m moaning, just attempting to give a flavour of my ‘buz’ experience. I would recommend this fascinating trip to anyone interested in the rich history of the second city (and numerous folks exist who are).

According to the fun run website, I officially finished 4,568th on Sunday – in a time of 2 hours 30 minutes and 44 minutes! Woo, get me!!! That is actually marginally faster than I thought I did.

My efforts at coming up with a new short story are proving frustrating.  I absolutely hate this lack of inspiration, which is so pathetic.  Writers should never have ‘nothing to write about.’  I have more than the inclination to create, I get so many wonderful ideas from stories I read – so why do plots not come naturally to me?

Sometimes I feel as though trying to come up with ideas ought not to be such hard work.  It actually exhausts me.  I find it so intense, I go into a sort of trance.

I have decided I can’t waste any more time staring at a blank page or making notes that lead nowhere.  Clearly the short story juices are not flowing at present, so I would be far better employed carrying on with my novel.  At least I’ll be actually writing words, which is after all what writers are supposed to do.

I am putting pressure on myself with this scheme to ‘write a short story a month.’  Perhaps I ought to revise that plan and instead try and write short stories in between chapters of the novel?  Perhaps in the meantime ideas for future magazine submissions will spring forth naturally if I don’t go actively looking for them?

I know I do apply pressure to myself – I always have done in life – but I can’t be lazy and I so desperately want to have some more work published.  I simply HAVE to write.  If it isn’t quite my reason for being, it comes pretty close.  It’s a compulsion.  I love to unleash language and set it free to dance.  Even if it’s just my diary, I have to write something.  Even florid paragraphs of random crap are better than nothing.

I love the smell of barbecue smoke, I love the smell of suntan lotion as it reminds me of holidays, I love the salady scent of freshly mown grass, I love the fact I currently do not resemble a milk bottle, I love being outdoors, I love walking to and from work with Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald on my MP3 player, I love wearing shorts, I love a refreshingly cool glass of white wine.

Just in case you haven’t quite twigged yet…I LOVE SUMMER!!!

I am also attempting to create another short story, and have been reading the competition winners and runners-up on www.writersnews.co.uk in order to draw inspiration.  What I love is that these authors are not bestselling professionals but, like me, passionate amateur writers with full-time jobs.

I am torn between feeling depressed and inferior because of the awesome standard of these stories, and fired up with motivation because they just show that anyone can do it and that great literature can be borne out of seemingly mundane scenarios.

Washing up, a Scrabble game, shopping, a park bench and a motorway service station are just some of the themes explored.  It goes to show that earth-shattering drama and exotic settings are not necessary, so long as you have confidence in your subject matter.

I completed Sutton Fun Run in 2 hours 34 minutes yesterday, which was considerably slower than last year but then it was rather a slog doing it in today’s searing heat. I really found it tough, especially the uphill bits. My feet were like jelly.

It was another gorgeously hot day, which made walking eight and a half miles quite a challenge. What was lovely was that numerous householders along the way kindly sprayed the boiling runners/walkers with their hosepipes. We were like competitors in a wet T-shirt contest by the end, but it was lovely. The marshals were also handing out sponges along the route. I must have had about six in all, which I kept shoving down my T-shirt like shoulder pads. My bottle of water had done horrid and tepid by the end, despite me giving it two hours in the freezer before I went out this morning.

There is always such a great atmosphere there. I love the fun run because it feels as though the whole town turns out in support.

I adore the sun sooo much. It has such a miraculous effect on my mood – though it does dry up my brain somewhat and I consequently find writing as much of a slog as long-distance walking at times.

On Saturday Nathan and I spent a lovely day in the gorgeous Forest of Dean. We cycled the 12-mile circular cycle track, taking a short detour to Mallards Pike, a picturesque pool. The route was interesting and a little more varied than the Peak District ones we have done, in that it wasn’t totally flat and was winding in parts. There was also plenty of shade, being a forest, so the ride wasn’t quite the trudge it might otherwise have been. Neither of us had been to the area before. It is very beautiful.

We had some lunch back at the car, then put the bikes in the car and went for a walk to Cannop Ponds, where we had a little sunbathe.