Let's Pretend it's the Ritz | A short story and some reflections on it

Us on holiday in Rhyl

I wrote the short story that follows some time ago. When I posted it on ABC Tales     http://www.abctales.com/story/gletherby/lets-pretend-its-ritz  some of the comments I received noted the relevance to today's society. I agree. However, this story - although it contains much fictional detail - closely relates to something that happened to my parents and I close to 50 years ago. If I had to describe in one word how I felt during my childhood it was cherished. Yet there were times when materially we didn't have very much and for a while in my first decade we were very dependent on the generosity of others for shelter. The one memorable night when we didn't have anywhere to stay prompted me to write this: 

Let's Pretend it's the Ritz 

It’s after 11 o'clock before we find somewhere to stay. 

I’m seven and three quarters and most of the time I’m excited when I’m allowed to stay up late but tonight I’m cold and I’m tired. My feet hurt too. I was already in bed when mum woke me and said that we were going out. I was cozy and didn't want to get up. We've been staying with Auntie Sue (she’s my mum's sister) and her boyfriend David, for a couple of months now. Their flat is nice, painted in blues and greens with squashy sofas and cushions and a glass table where we sit to eat. But it's small and mum and dad and I have to sleep in the same bed. I'm usually in the middle. Auntie Sue tuts when I leave stuff on the table or watch my TV programmes. And she got cross when I ate my tea from a tray. It was only a little mark on the cushions. There was no one around when we left but there was shouting coming from the kitchen.

 I didn't hear much.

 Auntie Sue said, 'the place just doesn't feel like ours anymore, it's such a mess all the time.'

Then David said, 'have a heart Suze it's your sister and your niece.'

We left then. I don't think we'll be going back.

Things started going wrong last summer. Dad lost his job and every time I came home from school something else was missing. First it was dad's car, then some of mum's jewellery and loads of other things, even the telly and the computer. I didn't mind that as much as I minded mum crying all the time. The more she cried the more dad moaned about the 'bloody government.' Maybe they've got all our best stuff. At Christmas mum and dad had no presents at all and I only got a book and some Lego.

After the school holidays mum stopped crying and was very busy packing up what we have left. We had to leave the house I've always lived in and my cat Bingo went to live with my best friend Beth. She says I can visit whenever I like but it upsets me so I've not been much. Our furniture and most of my books and clothes are in a garage somewhere. We won't get them back until we get another house and I don't know when that will be.

I'm in my pyjamas and feeling very sleepy. Mum and dad are still dressed.

Mum rubs my back.

"Let's pretend it's the Ritz," she says.

We've played the let’s pretend game a lot lately.

"Let's pretend we're eating turkey,” instead of corned beef, for Christmas dinner.

"Let's pretend we're on a day trip to Paris," and not in the library because it’s so cold at home.

"Let's pretend we're watching our favourite film,” rather than playing in the park (AGAIN) to give Auntie Sue and David some space. They should have gone to the park, there's loads of space there.

I wasn't sure where we would end up tonight but I didn't expect it to be a train. The seats are a bit scratchy and make me itch and we are all bunched up together but I don't mind. Dad has his arm around mum and I haven't seen him do that for a while. They used to cuddle all the time which was kind of embarrassing but I miss it now they don't. Maybe the train will take us somewhere nice and mum and dad will be happy again.

I start to doze as mum talks to me about snow white sheets and gold taps, free food and drinks, breakfast in bed and sweets left on pillows. Whatever this Ritz place is it must be posh. I fall asleep and dream of hot chocolate with marshmallows. It's stuffy. I wake up hot. Mum and dad are talking. I listen.

"I'm so sorry that it's come to this," says dad.

"It's not your fault, it's no one’s fault Pete. We'll get through it. Together." That's mum.

Then it's quiet. I guess they're looking into each other's eyes and maybe, I hope, kissing because there is a bit of a slurpy noise.

"Let's go to Frank’s," my mum says after a while. She sounds kind of bossy.

"But..." I think dad wants to say more but mum butts in.

"He's your father and he’ll help us Pete. He won't get tired of having Janie around." She’s stroking my hair.

"I know your pride is hurting but put up with his advice. It's our best chance to get on our feet again. Please darling. You know I'm right," she says.

"Yes. Yes, I do," says dad after a while. "Ok, we'll go tomorrow."

"Good," says mum. She sounds pleased.

It's quiet.

I sleep again.

Mum wakes me early and helps me get washed and dressed. The water is cold and the mirror above the wash basin is dirty. There's a bit of poo on the floor in front of the loo. Mum shudders. I close my eyes and pretend. . .

"Breakfast at Maccy Ds?" asks dad as he packs my night stuff and the others things we have used.

"YES," I say. "And we don't need to pretend we're anywhere else cos MacDonald's IS THE BEST.'

Mum and dad laugh and smile at each other. Dad touches mum’s face and she kisses his cheek. Now I know that everything’s going to be ok.

We leave the train hand-in-hand and skip down the platform. Dad waves at the night watchman who opened up the carriage for us and put the heating on. I'm a bit disappointed that the train isn't taking us anywhere but I'm looking forward to my breakfast and to seeing my grandpa.

Sticks and Stones | A Short Story

Once, not that long ago, in a land, not that far away, there lived a man, who worked very hard. He dedicated his life to fighting injustice and was always the first to stand with those suffering discrimination or oppression. He travelled far and wide offering support to people who needed it and challenging those who put the wants of the few before the needs of the many. Unwavering in his principles the man’s views were not always popular although his good heart and his steadfastness became legendary across the kingdom. More often than not his beliefs and predictions proved to be grounded in good sense. When not at work the man lived a simple life, his lack of interest in material things unusual for the time.  

And so the man’s life continued for many years. Quietly spoken and physically unassuming the most powerful people saw the man as little threat to their position of privilege. For a long time this was the case. Despite the man’s efforts and those of a few others like him the kingdom, and other lands around it, became dark and dangerous places to live in. More and more people were reduced to existing in sorry conditions. At its worst this meant that some had no access to adequate food and shelter, or to good education and health care. Inequality sometimes led to prejudice and often the most powerless were unfairly blamed for social evils well beyond their control. Then came an opportunity when the man put himself forward for a more powerful position amongst those responsible for governing the kingdom. Slowly, but with gathering momentum, ordinary people throughout the land began to listen more closely to what the man had to say, and to join him in his commitment to social justice for all. In short they began to hope.

Watching the growing interest in and acceptance of the man’s message the rulers and those who would be rulers began to fear. Having greater access to the kingdom’s Magic Streaming Mirror (popularly known as the MSM) than the man and his supporters they began to spread false tales about him. Aware of the people’s regard for the man and his work they began by criticising his ability; ‘he is a good person but not strong enough to lead us’. When this didn’t work they moved to an attack on his ideas; ‘he’s talking rubbish, don’t listen to him’. Then, not surprisingly given the increasing obvious acceptance of them, they began to adopt, even to claim as their own, the man’s suggestions for action. At the same time they argued; ‘nobody likes him, he can’t deliver his promises, don’t trust him, trust us instead’. The critical messages were personal as well as political; indeed the personal is always political. So the man’s long-time principles were questioned, his character besmirched, and his lifestyle, choices, appearance and general self-presentation insulted. Through it all the man stood tall and got stronger, supported by the people who believed in him: young people and older ones, workers and those unable to work, those with enough to live a good life, others much more disadvantaged. They didn’t all agree with everything the man said, just as no one should, unthinkingly, uncritically, accept what they are told by others. But what all these people shared was a respect for the man’s obvious principles and they believed, like him, that the kingdom could be a better, fairer, brighter, happier place, if everyone worked together to make it so. And hence the Magic Streaming Mirror responded branding these people as naïve, as stupid, as wicked and worse . . . Its magic power was strong as it twisted the words of those who spoke in support of the man and magnified the voices of those that didn’t. And yet, many were able to question the dominant and dominating bewitching messages emanating from the Magic Streaming Mirror which championed the proclamations of those who wished to dispose of the man and take power for themselves. The people who resisted took comfort in, and drew strength from, communication and comradery relationships with each other. So much so that even when they were told, repeatedly, in various different ways, that they were not ‘real’ they knew that this was a lie.

***

The end of this story is yet to be told. The man and the people who accept and help to promote what he stands for remain under attack. The often confused and confusing negative stories continue to fester. But the resistance of many continues also. Although the kingdom is in many ways rotten, and there is a real danger that things could get even worse, there is also much hope for a better world. Many more people believe in fighting for a more positive future. Many more people believe in the power of community and the value of people powered politics. What is clear is that whatever happens next things will never be the same again. 

From Animal Farm to Finding Dory Part 1 | Reflections on Politics, Paranoia and Community

I am feeling the need to add some of my own thoughts to a current political discussion. 

I appreciate it's Saturday so if you're tired of it all or need a break please ignore. 

Recently I received an email from the Labour Party confirming my vote in the current leadership election,  as long as I continue to support the aims and values of the party. I have voted Labour at least since my personal political awakening in my mid-twenties prompted by an A Level evening-class in Sociology taken at my local FE college (I’m ashamed to say I can’t remember if I voted at all before then). An undergraduate and postgraduate qualification in Sociology plus 25+ years of teaching, researching and writing have only strengthened by concerns about in/equality and in/justice.

My email reminds me that ‘The Labour Party will not tolerate abusive or threatening behaviour by supporters or members'.  I would never abuse in person or via social media anyone for their political beliefs. I have and will continue to disagree, debate, argue, protest and (attempt to) persuade. Between signing up to be a registered supporter in the 48 hour window the NEC provided and the time of receiving my email I stopped liking or sharing anything on Facebook or Twitter that was supportive of my preferred candidate and what he stands for and/or challenging of the behaviour of the PLP or NEC. Paranoia reminiscent of the fear of Big Brother in Orwell’s 1984 possibly. But the recent challenge to the elected leader by the PLP, the changes imposed by the NEC on who can vote, who can attend meetings and other such restrictions and developments leaves me, and I know others, thinking that, to paraphrase Orwell (Animal Farm 1945) ‘All Labour Party members and supporters are equal but some are more equal than others’.

My discipline training and research experience has resulted in, I think, a healthy questioning of what main stream media (MSM) news tell us is so which just now is bordering on incredulity. Recent academic studies highlight the scale of the anti-Corbyn media bias. https://www.rt.com/uk/353891-bbc-media-bias-corbyn/. So the reproduction of obvious untruths alongside selective and clearly biased representation are endemic. Worse still are the blatant attempts to apportion inappropriate blame (e.g. 65% of Labour voters voted to remain whereas only 39% of Conservative voters did https://yougov.co.uk/news/2016/06/27/how-britain-voted/ and voting intention polls indicated that Labour and the Conservatives were neck and neck before the Labour coup) and or to discredit and deride. There are many, many examples here but I’ll point out two recent ones both from The Telegraph:

•  The title says it all for this article by Tom Harris published online on the 26^th July 2016: ‘The cold place in hell reserved for Labour MPs who back Jeremy Corbyn knowing he is a disaster’

•  In an article entitled ‘Jeremy Corbyn is divisive, deluded and dangerous . . .’, published online on the 27^th July 2016 Neil Midgley describes Corbyn’s views as ‘odious’.

Reflecting on Corbyn’s long-term commitment to human, animal and environment rights, and on issues such as democracy, enfranchisement and political debate all of this makes me want to weep.

If you’ve read this far I guess by now you might be wondering how Finding Dory fits in. In the film's predecessor; Finding Nemo, Dory, the Blue Tang fish who encouraged the Clown fish Marlin to carry on in his quest to find his son Nemo, entreats him to ‘just keep swimming’. I’ve written before about the significance of this advice and how it has been useful to me personally, not least with reference to loss and grief:

• I am aware that just keep swimming could be perceived to be and/or experienced as a platitude . . . And yet to me Dory’s words feel more like a metaphor; more than a metaphor, as I swim my way to emotional and physical wellbeing. More evidence I guess of how grief is a unique experience for all of us.  http://www.arwenack.co.uk/2015/04/bereavement-and-grief-3-more-swimming.html

Recently, I read a response to a post on a Corbyn supporting Facebook page which included an image from the scene in FN when a shoal of fish caught in a fishing boat net ‘all swim together’ at Nemo’s urging in order to break free. Clearly then I’m not the only one who thinks this film also highlights the value of working together, community and comradeship. You can see the clip here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUTt0LMhyas

I’m off to see Finding Dory later today . . . more soon. 

All Hail the Stereotype: ‘left wing’ beards and non/motherhood

Like many of us my life in the last two weeks has been largely dominated with the news. What with keeping up with accounts of the UK referendum fallout and hate-related violence here and elsewhere, trying to make sense of the claims and counter claims and work out the significance and influence of the possible truths and obvious lies there is little time for other cultural consumption. Indeed, it’s become something of an addiction for me resulting in more than one late night watching, listening and reading.

Earlier in the week I found one piece (dated a few months ago so to some this might be old news), admittedly written in a newspaper known for its vulgarity, claiming that Jeremy Corbyn has a ‘left wing beard’. I’ve been married twice and for much of our respective years together each of my husbands favoured facial hair rather than the clean shaven look. Their politics were different, but despite the colour (one was a brunette, the other a red-head) their beards looked much the same. I imagine a project in the making but it’s already been done and there are articles and blogs on such issues as ‘the politics of male grooming’ and ‘the philosophy of shaving’. There’s always room for more work of course and I wonder if any of my friends have any ‘data’ to share? A short internet search and I found another, equally ludicrous article, describing Corbyn as a ‘joyless vegetarian’ in need of a few good steaks. And just this week yet another implying that it was inappropriate of him to attend his allotment association annual general meeting given the current situation within the PLP. The leader of the opposition, the article states, likes to make ‘jam for friends and family’ with some of the produce he grows. So, this is where he’s going wrong:  doesn’t he know that it’s women who are closer to nature, women who nurture and care, because, and only because, they give birth? . . . . Enter Andrea Leadsom, Conservative leadership candidate, who feels that, as a mother, she has a ‘real stake in the future’ and thus an advantage over her childless and obviously ‘really sad’ opponent Theresa May. There have already been responses to this, including from Leadsom herself, to which I add the following. 

Across a large body of academic publications, and personal writings, based not only on my own experience but on a significant number of research projects with different groups of people who do and do not parent I have argued (amongst other things) that:

-        Whether biological or social parents OR not, few adults lead ‘childfree’ lives and most of us interact with, work with and for, support and are supported by, individuals from across the generations.

-        The experience of parenthood is joyful and difficult and therefore an ambivalent experience. Similarly, nonparents are aware of the ambivalences - the positives and negatives -  of childlessness. So, despite regular suggestions that they are the involuntarily childless are not ‘desperate’ individuals (although they may feel desperation about this aspect of their lives) as other experiences, achievements, relationships are also relevant to their identity and sense of self. Additionally, the stereotype of the ‘selfish’ voluntary childless is just that a stereotype. Of course there are people without children who we might feel are selfish but having children is not a cure for selfishness and there are parents who are egocentric, self-interested and lack consideration for others.

-        Although motherhood, is still thought by some to be women’s ultimate fulfilment, motherhood and mothering is defined as an inappropriate choice for women if not achieved in the so-called ‘right’ social, material, sexual and so on circumstances. I’m thinking here of criticisms of those who mother too young, or too late, or within same sex relationships, or alone and of those who combine motherhood with paid work outside the home or those who stay-at-home and ‘smother’ their children, etc. etc. Basically it’s much easier to get it wrong than to get it right.

-         Men provide care too. They can and do nurture  –  children, partners, friends. . . vegetables and fruit – and yet although we insist we want them to do more of this they are sometimes disadvantaged, even ridiculed, when they do.

      I could go on . . .

      To suggest that a woman, or a man, who does not have any (biological) children has no understanding of or interest in the next generation(s) is ridiculous, to imply that they are less concerned about local and global in/equality and in/justice offensive. Thirty years ago when my (to my knowledge) one and only pregnancy ended in a miscarriage at 16 weeks I felt bereft and less than a woman. Now closer to 60 than 50 I no longer feel this way. My life has been and remains (on the whole) full and rewarding. It is further enriched by the children of others: students, younger colleagues, the children and grandchildren of family members and friends. And yet I am regularly reminded, in casual conversation, by the media, as well as in my daily life experiences of what I do not have. I cannot claim to know how May reacted when she read the article in The Times. I do know how I felt. 

Thinking about Creativity

In my work as a feminist sociologist I'm concerned to always try to write in an accessible way. I'm gratified that, from the feedback I've received, it seems that I (usually) manage to achieve this. I'm also pleased and grateful to be told that my academic writing is sometimes emotionally (as well as intellectually) meaningful for those who read it. My more recent fiction and memoir writing (links to some recent online publications below) provide, for me, additional tools to explore the complexity of life/lives in a way that I hope others find interesting. In reflecting on and researching how best to describe some of my most personal pieces I recently found this definition on Wikepedia:

For a text to be considered creative nonfiction, it must be factually accurate, and written with attention to literary style and technique. "Ultimately, the primary goal of the creative nonfiction writer is to communicate information, just like a reporter, but to shape it in a way that reads like fiction." Forms within this genre include biography, autobiography, memoir, diary, travel writing, food writing,literary journalism, chronicle, personal essays and other hybridized essays. 

This leaves me confused. Fiction often contains some fact and we can never be sure (not least because of its reliance on memory and the likelihood of the self desire to protect the positive status of our moral identity) just how 'true' a piece of factual personal writing is. Thus, surely any claim that 'creative nonfiction' is 'factually accurate' is problematic in several ways. To me, at least then, the term creative nonfiction feels not only inaccurate but an over complication. . .

Having said this I'm drawn to the word CREATIVE, associated as it is with energy - 'relating to or involving the use of the imagination or original ideas to create something' - and enjoy nothing more than being at the receiving end of the creativity (via reading, watching, looking, listening) of others. So then, whether I'm writing fiction, autobiography (or sociologically speaking auto/biography), memoir, reporting research findings or suggesting a theoretical or methodological development in my work if, in some way, my writing is creative then I'll be happy.

I've published a couple of fictional stories (one which relates in some ways to some experiences earlier in my life and the other to issues close to my research interests) and a short piece of memoir on ABCtales.com recently. Here are the links if you are interested:

Addicted to . . . Love
http://www.abctales.com/story/gletherby/addicted-love

Wish You Were Here

http://www.abctales.com/story/gletherby/wish-you-were-here-yma-whans-dhym-ty-dhe-vos-omma

Holding Hands With Number One
http://www.abctales.com/story/gletherby/holding-hands-number-one

Still Learning | Still Feeling the Thrill

Amongst my other work so far this year I've managed to submit a number of fictional pieces in the hope of being placed in a competition or being accepted for publication. I'm still waiting to hear about some and have had mixed results with the ones I have had feedback on. I am learning (still learning, always learning) that writing for a fiction audience is very different than writing for an academic one. There are different expectations, 'rules' even, which are slowly beginning to make sense to me. As an academic I'm used to rejections and still get a thrill when a piece is accepted/published. It's the same for me with this 'new' writing.

One piece I first drafted a couple of years ago and have fiddled about with this was recently returned rather than published. The helpful advice I received include the following: 'When writing a short story it is usually most effective to tell it just from the perspective of the main character. . . Here it is you the author who is telling the story so we are able to see inside everyone's head'. The editor then goes on to provide evidence of how/where I have done this and how I might chance my style to make my main character more 'active'. I get this now as I think back on the novels/short stories I have read and enjoyed recently. I've revised the story and sent it somewhere else. Watch this space.

A piece of flash fiction writing (300 words this time) I submitted in January was long listed to 50 (out of 650 submissions) in the Bath Flash Fiction International Rolling Competition http://bathflashfictionaward.com/2016/02/award-round-up-february-2016/, It's the first time I've entered this particular competition so pleased to have got this far.

In addition to my fiction work I've written and submitted a couple of memoir pieces in the last couple of months. In my last blog entry I referred to a piece I had published on abctales within which I wrote a little about my relationship with my dad. I followed this up with another short memoir Invisible Mending which focuses on some memories of my mum. As with my other writing I have found this very helpful as part of my personal grief journey.

You can read Invisible Mending here if you would like to http://www.abctales.com/story/gletherby/invisible-mending

That's it for now.

Thanks for reading

Gayle

Some Recent Writings | Some Recent Successes

Following my previous reflections on the influence of my father – Ron Thornton – on my own writing I’ve been thinking further about our relationship and today posted a short piece which includes a little of how it feels to be older now than he was when he died. It’s called Older than Dad and you can find it at ABCtales (a great site for writers and readers of all genres) if you are interested http://www.abctales.com/story/gletherby/older-dad

I’m at Retreats for You  http://www.retreatsforyou.co.uk/a-writers-retreat/  in North Devon at the moment. As the website promises it is a 'good place to write' (and think, and rest) and alongside some academic writing I’m playing about with some fiction and (non-academic)

The lounge at Retreats For You

non-fiction. Although, like many others, I believe that there is a continuum between these so-called different types of writing and fiction writing is often related to, draws on, reflects real world experiences and factual pieces - based as they are on the memories, experiences and opinions of the particular writer – might not be the truth for all (or indeed anyone!).  So far since I arrived on Tuesday evening I’ve written the first draft of one short, short story (450 words) and I’ve gone back to several other pieces (each between 300 – 2500 words) and polished them up for possible publication.

Since I started to write fiction as an adult (sometimes, not always but sometimes related to my own experience or my research) in 2012 I’ve had several pieces that have been long or short listed or something similar. In the last couple of months I’ve been excited to win a couple of prizes:

Temper and Tenacity (a 500 word piece updating one aspect within Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice) was placed 3^rd in the Flash500 final quarter 2015 competition.

http://www.flash500.com/index_files/tqtp15.htm

He Loves Me, Not (a 300 word piece about a difficult choice) won the 2015 Hysterectomy Association women’s fiction flash fiction completion and is published in Hysteria 4: Volume 4 (Hysteria Anthologies) edited by Linda Parkinson-Hardman.  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hysteria-Volume-Anthologies-Linda-Parkinson-Hardman/dp/0992742978

I like to think that dad would be chuffed.

Thanks for reading

Gayle