Life's a Long Song

I'm sure the world doesn't wish to read my pontifications. I for one would rather gather pearls of genius dropped via the ethernet by Stephen Fry or Clive James. Perhaps, like me, you are also interested in people you actually know, or might know.

The thought for the day is that all those sayings about life being a journey and not a destination, etc., etc. are actually quite true. Having reached the great age of fifty-one I feel at liberty to share what I have found to be true about Life.

1. Life occurs in phases. Some are planned and prepared for (such as marriage) while others are not (such as death of a loved one)
2. Some phases are eagerly anticipated and enjoyed while others are to be endured. None of them are predictable.

So far I am in what I consider to be the 4th phase of my life.

Phase the First:
Childhood. The time when you don't know you're born, when life was good and (you later learn) was still good when it was bad. It's the bad that makes you appreciate the good.

Phase the Second:
Adolescence. In my case, the transition between childhood and adolescence was jarringly punctuated with a sledgehammer, by the death of my father. This phase was, to put it mildly, full of sunshine and tears, but a more accurate description of my emotions is that I alternated between breath-taking joy and the most devastating feelings of melancholy. Again, with hindsight, it was neither of those extremes, but a teenager's life back then could be, and often was, a soap opera.

Phase the Third:
Freedom. Going to college, getting in debt, ignoring letters from the bank, going home pleading poverty, getting a job, paying taxes, going on holiday with friends, making friends, losing friends, facing the cost of living, acquiring Stuff, acquiring More Stuff, having to answer to no-one (except the boss and the bank manager), learning to be independent.

Phase the Fourth:
Middle age. In my case this meant getting married, moving to America, having babies, acquiring Even More Stuff (and then gradually coming to realise I don't want most of it), making a home and realising I'll never have my dream home. Then realising that my dream home is where there is love, laughter, gratitude, contentment and appreciation for all that is good. Then realising that the rest of my family isn't there yet and having to be a parent.

Phase the Fifth:
Older than my parents. A year from now I'll be the same age as my dad (at the time he died). Can't predict that phase.

Time to make a proper announcement

Having announced the existence of my previous blog only a couple of months ago, I've been reluctant to announce this one lest people should be irritated by me. However, I like this one better because it's nice and smooth to work with and most people should be able to view it with ease. So, whether you have been reading this from the beginning (way back when I started this two weeks ago) or whether you have just joined me, 'Welcome to the better blog'.

Now I feel the need to communicate my every move and thought, and also know about other people's. I'm Twittering, Blogging and Facebooking and I daresay if another method of sharing my dull world with the universe should happen to come my way, I'll probably add that too. At least now I've got the three things I am using connected, so my one-line updates will be done through Twitter and in-depth stuff will be here. My goal is to get 'back' with my old friends in the UK and try to make it feel as though I'm not quite so far away, as well as step up communications with my local friends and stave off some of the cabin fever that the winter inevitably brings. However, what disappears with all this interconnection is the freedom to always write exactly what is in the forefront of one's mind because of fear of spoiling a surprise, causing offence or simply sharing Too Much Information. Fortunately most of my life is an open book so don't come here looking for scandal. There is a risk of this becoming simply a day by day description of the mundane and banal but since I'm interested in my people and I hope they are interested in me.

I've noticed that I use cliches and stock phrases way too much - to the point where I'm embarrassed to own them. In fact it means that actually I don't own them and that there is nothing original in my writing. (I do enjoy gathering snippets of wit to toss casually into conversation, passing them off as my own, but to actually write them down is another matter entirely.) I have many learned and talented friends who have had their writing and research published and whose books can be found on Amazon. I'm very proud of them and their hard work and quite surprised that such intelligentsia would have time for me. It makes me feel a bit inadequate because while they've been so busy, I've been faffing around and have little to show for my time - except a hundred and fifty unfinished projects.

I hope you enjoy the blog and I hope you will comment.

x

Friday Night Thoughts

Gosh it's hard to write with so many distractions! The TV is on, the next room is full of teenagers playing games and I don't seem to be able to focus on what to write. Listening to them really reminds me of the youth club I went to at my church when I was 14 and 15. We met every Wednesday in the community centre from 7.30 to 9.30. Usually there was at least one organised activity but the rest of the time we played records and danced, or talked or played table tennis or some other game. It was probably hard work for the adults involved and I don't know that we ever really thanked them for their efforts. Anyway - these kids seem to be having a lot of fun tonight. They're laughing and joking and in high spirits. I feel old.

More on photography

In 2006 I got a new camera which I loved, but in the space of a year it was all but completely destroyed. Fortunately it was still intact the last time I was in London. These are my favourites of the photos I took at that time.

Something Old, Something Blue is a fascinating juxtaposition of one of London's newest landmarks with one of its oldest. I hope to get more from within the Tower walls this year. I love the Gherkin and the Tower buildings themselves are a mishmash of different kinds of architecture in this picture, so as long as there aren't too many more gherkins in the pipeline and the old architecture remains in its rightful place, I like it.

Blue Sky, London Eye uses one of those colour-accent effects that my camera has - my newer camera doesn't have that feature, sadly. I really like the greys and the contrast with the blue.

Britain in the Sky is one of my especial favourites. I managed to get the British Airways plane in the sky as it flew over the (formerly) British Airways London Eye and as it passed a cloud which to me looks strangely like a map of Britain.

Rope Line gave me a rare opportunity to see some photographers waiting for.... whom? This was The Mall and there was a red carpet and a gallery of some sort, so I waited with them. Sadly I didn't recognise anyone who walked the red carpet that day, despite hanging around for over an hour. It was fun people-watching though.

A few weeks later the poor camera was flung rather dramatically (and accidentally) into a swimming pool. It was dried out and continued to function, but not quite as well as before. A few months later it was jammed into a locker door and dropped a couple more times. It's now in Jamie's possession and I have a new camera, up from 7mp to 12. I hope to be able to get some good shots this year.

Marbleous

marbleous
Originally uploaded by janibach

Several years ago if you'd asked me if I had any hobbies, I'd probably have said "shopping" and "socialising". Actually I also knitted and cross-stitched fairly frequently, but they sounded too spinsterish to admit to as "hobbies" for a young single independent woman. At about the same time that I got married, I stopped full time work, so there was actually a need for me to find an absorbing occupation.

It was a few years before I had time for hobbies other than taking care of children and watching TV but at some oint I decided to take up painting. I painted like mad for about three years and then stopped as abruptly as I started. That led to photography - both for inspiration and to post my work online. That in turn led to me setting up my own website and messing about with page and designs. The art led to me trying to "paint'' in fabric, using colours and textures - I started a piece a year or so ago and it's still not finished because I'm looking for the right fabric to finish it off.

I enjoy photographing the wildlife I see outside my house, as well as street scenes and famous landmarks, but in the latter case I try to find less common aspects.

Occasionally I photograph something around the house, like this marble game.

Losing Touch

Among the many thoughts that have meandered through my mind recently was a feeling of being tired of being in America and surrounded by Americans. I even said it aloud, which was unfortunate because I have an all-American family and many American friends. Such statements are usually at the tip of an iceberg of thoughts that swim in and out of being and gather together in a hidden mass. I'm not so much tired of being here, as being separated from British culture - of being 'in' with the current slang and trends, for example.

British people enjoy wordplay, like to mimic accents and create clever catchphrases. They find humour in almost everything and once a saying or phrase has taken hold, you hear it everywhere. Sometimes it will be a direct lift from a television programme; sometimes it will be a pun-loaded headline from a tabloid newspaper, or it might be an unfortunate quote from a politician or celebrity. Everyday slang has its own evolving vocabulary which, with technology, is spreading globally, yet each country retains its own distinctive flavour. There are so many words which have entered everyday speech in Britain since I left sixteen years ago that I now sometimes have to ask for a translation.

I used to laugh a lot. There was always someone with a humorous comment and I was often quick to respond in the same vein. I'm not a comedienne but like some comedians, I need a 'feed' in order to make my own witty comeback, and join the banter. I so enjoy my visits from old friends and relatives and I despair of the lack of humour in my own family so much that I sometimes feel like an alien in my own home. I gave up making jokes many years ago when I got no response or a puzzled silence and funny looks. It truly depressed me. I know I would have returned to England back then if I hadn't been married with children.

What is it that prevents people from finding something to laugh and smile about when things aren't going well? I grew up in a home where the old wartime sentiments still had a place. Put on a happy face. Smile and the world smiles with you. Mustn't grumble. Even when we were at our saddest we found something to smile at. Some feelings were suppressed for the good of the family and community. Have things changed all that much? I think so. I thought we were all supposed to do what we could to make life better for other people by smiling, being cheerful, helping people and being considerate. Who changed the rules? We now live in a "self first" culture which is teaching children that they don't have to do something if they don't want to and that makes them selfish and a parent's work all the harder.

I miss being British in Britain. I'm taking the two youngest children with me to England but I don't want to deal with their fussy eating and their disinterest in seeing and experiencing new things. I find myself issuing daily warnings about how they ought not to behave when we go for our visit and I promise them that we will visit some places they would like to see. I don't think they know much about other countries and cultures (except what they've learned from us). At their ages I had a list of places I wanted to visit in the world, but they have the internet. What's the point of going all that way to see something they can "experience" in the living room? This is what I hear: 'Do they have cable?', 'Do they have internet?', 'Are we taking the laptop?', 'Can we take both laptops so we can have one each?' 'How can I charge my iPod?' 'Don't forget the DS charger.' 'I don't want to go on a plane.' 'I don't know what I want to do.' To be fair, I've also heard cheers at the prospect of meeting their cousins for the first time and a trip on the London Eye. They will absolutely enjoy the visit if they keep an open mind and get their heads out of the electronics!

We plan to spend a few days in London and that will include the London Eye and the Tower of London. I'd like to add the V&A and a river trip to Hampton Court Palace. I want to let them see the horseguards, Downing Street, Buckingham Palace and Madame Tussauds. I love London and this is an opportunity we won't have again for a few more years. I'm lucky that we can do this and I'm excited to be able to go!

A story of jewellery

I make no apology for the British spelling of 'jewellery', even though the American spell-checker has put a little red line under it. I do hate spell-checkers.

A few months ago I thought I'd like to enjoy my mum's and grandma's diamond rings which have been languishing in a jewellery box these 15 to 20 years. One is far too small, but it's pretty, the other is worn and thin. Since both are of 18ct gold, and the six diamonds are of similar size, I considered the possibility of combining the two rings to create a single ring with a cluster of diamonds. With this in mind I carried the rings with me as I visited three reputable shops which I knew had jewellers on the premises. I avoided the mall, and the chain stores because I wanted to consult with someone who knew what they were doing.

In the first shop I was reassured that I had six genuine diamonds, one of a lower quality than the others (probably the one which mum had bought to replace a lost one). I was then shown a catalogue of ring designs - mostly claw-set, showing the stones in a row. I wasn't so very impressed with those - they seemed so ordinary to me. I was quoted about $350 to have the diamonds put in one of those standard 14kt settings. They weren't interested in reusing the existing English 18ct gold. Not discouraged, because this was the first shop I had visited, I moved on.

The second shop is a bigger, flashier jeweller, which is always busy and attracts people who want to 'upgrade' their diamonds for bigger and flashier ones, and which, we have found, has tended to give a better price to their female customers than to the men. Because I knew they did their work on the premises I decided to give them a try. On the initial visit, I 'consulted' with a young lady who opened up the very same catalogue that I was shown at Joy-Den, but she showed me different designs - mostly of so-called 'right-hand rings'. Those would be diamond rings designed for the independent woman to purchase for herself, thereby negating the need to wait for a man to buy diamonds for her. (Imagine a lot of eye-rolling from me at the premise behind that last sentence.) I actually found a setting I quite liked in the catalogue this time. I like British 'gypsy' settings and the modern equivalent, which in America are called 'bezel' settings, so this was a ring that caught my eye and would fit my six diamonds.

I asked (innocently) how much it would cost to use that setting and was told that it would be about $800 because a new setting would have to be made to fit my diamonds and, no, my 18ct gold could not be used 'because we can't guarantee the purity of the gold' (do they know nothing about English hall-marks??). I was told that for a cost of $50 they could generate the design on their computer and give me an accurate price for a ring that would fit my diamonds. I agreed to this, and offered to leave the rings with them so they could measure the diamonds.

A week later, I received a phone call saying that my design was ready for my approval, so I duly took time out of my Christmas shopping to see what they had come up with. The design was a three-dimensional image, exactly like the catalog design. I couldn't fault it at all, and it was very nice. Then I was handed a little plastic bag containing the two rings and six little diamonds. I was shocked to see that the diamonds had been removed from the rings in order to measure them! No-one had told me that this would be necessary so I wasn't best pleased to see them all mixed up in a bag, especially since I had not committed to having a new ring made. I was then told that the young lady I had spoken to previously was not on the premises that day and no-one else could give me a price.

I left with my little plastic bag and returned the next day. The young lady told me that the cost would be closer to $650, in 14kt white gold, and $35 would be given to me in exchange for the gold and platinum of the original rings. At that point I was thinking the cost was too high, the two original rings were ruined, and (if what she said was to be believed) the diamonds couldn't be reset in them either because the claw settings in the older ring had now been weakened. Of course, I actually said nothing. I didn't tell her I was annoyed that the stones had been removed without permission and I didn't ask if I could have them put back in - I simply asked if three garnets could be put in grandma's ring in place of the diamonds, and how much that would cost. She said since that was a fairly new, rarely worn ring, it would cost $30. (A nice gift for Jamie's 16th birthday next year, I thought.)

In the end I said I'd think about it and left the store.

I visited the third shop between visits to the second, where I was told that a new ring could be made, a design could be discussed and drawn out, a new wax mould would be manufactured to make the ring exactly to my specifications and the 18ct gold could be used to make the new ring. All for a cost of $750 - $850. Sounds easy. Sounds more expensive, too.

Finally, a couple of weeks before Christmas, I decided to end the stress this escapade was causing me and put my little plastic bag containing two former rings back into my jewellery box to forget it for a while. That's as far as the story goes for now. Do I go back to Sachs and ask them to restore the rings to their former glory? And what do I do if they say no? Do I take them to England to seek out a trustworthy jeweller there who understands the hallmarks? Do I even have time to do that and can I afford it?

So there we have it. I'm frustrated with myself for having started the whole business and I'm annoyed that I'm worse off than I was. I should have left well alone. I should have warned Sachs not to do anything to spoil the rings I left with them. I should go back and demand restitution. I should make a decision that I can afford. I'm not even that excited with the design I chose in the end. Ah well. We live and learn by our mistakes and hope our mistakes aren't so bad they can't be overcome.