Room 101

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After twelve hours in a strip lit office I must confess to feeling somewhat devoid of inspiration when I finally walked through the door and collapsed on the sofa at 8.30pm this evening. Fortunately all I had to do to find it again was turn on the television. What was this source of inspiration? I hear you cry (well, vaguely murmur). An old favourite of mine: Room 101.  When the credits began to roll I wrote my own list of things to put into Room 101 for today’s post. So here goes:

1)      Quilted jackets
Unless your name is Tarquin and you haven’t set foot outside the family estate since birth this is NOT an acceptable form of attire. Why ANYONE would choose to adorn themselves in something reminiscent of their dead grandmother’s bedspread is quite beyond me. And don’t even get me started on the ones with suede elbow patches *shudders* WRONG WRONG WRONG, on so very many levels.

2)      Celery
If the devil himself acquired an allotment and began growing vegetables THIS would be the jewel in his legume crown. Obsessive dieters may treasure it for its zero calorie rating (“you burn more calories eating it than you ingest!” they smugly tell you, then bite into it and grimace as they chew), but there is NOTHING about this weird-tasting, disgustingly-textured freak-stick that is right. Disgusting.

3)      People who make you look bad

In the office: Experts at making others question their ability to do their jobs, these people thrive on nit picking and revel in the pursuit of power at all costs. They puff up their chests and crow loudly of their own successes, whilst being vocal about where others have failed. They are, in short, deeply insecure bullies, and should be considered as such (ideally not to their faces, as this isn’t ideal for career progression).

In the gym: Prancing around in Lycra so tight it’s a wonder they have enough blood flowing around their bodies to exercise in the first place, these people love nothing more than to be asked how they achieved their perfectly toned bodies (cardio five times a day) and where they went on their last holiday (a hugely expensive spa retreat in Antigua, Bermuda, the Maldives etc.). DO NOT ASK THEM. IT IS A TRAP. You have been warned.

On the web: Social media is rife with idiots who get a kick out of putting others down to bolster their own fragile (but heavily armoured with hatred and spite) egos. Some call them trolls, which is a pretty accurate description. It would certainly be better for mankind were they to go and live under bridges and leave the rest of us alone.

There. I feel better now. That was actually quite cathartic. I may make it a regular feature.

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Now here are three things I could never put into Room 101: Cappuccinos, chocolate cake and the Sea. I took this pic the day I left the Sivananda ashram in Kerala, India. I had just arrived at Kovalam beach and was celebrating being able to consume sugar and caffeine after a two week abstinence. I’m not sure I’ve ever enjoyed coffee and cake as much as I did that day.

Changing Faces

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She shivered in her duffel coat as the train crawled into the platform, though the temperature for this time of year was nothing short of balmy. A tall boy in a suit (for no designer can disguise a baby face with the cut of a jacket) sidled up to her, too close for comfort, and pulled a newspaper from underneath his arm, in which he feigned interest as he stole furtive glances at her face. He smelt of cheap aftershave and adolescent sweat. She ignored him and waited for the train to come to a halt, for the little orange light to flash its assent that she may board.

The doors opened and in the rush for a seat she noticed the boy had dropped his newspaper on the platform. He looked awkward now, exposed and gawky as he stood in the centre of the carriage, hand stretched up and groping for stability, eyes casting about for some other means of focus than her face. Someone offered her a seat, and as she sat down their eyes met. He smiled a nervous smile and looked away. She looked out of the window at the passing houses, wondering idly whether anyone was still in the comforting arms of their bed instead of battling the throng of commuters like her.

When the train reached her station they both stood up, him first, then her. He stepped back to let her pass with an exaggerated wave of his hand, an act of chivalry not fitting with his age, perhaps not even with the age in which they lived. She felt the muscles in her cheeks tug at the corners of her mouth, but no smile was forthcoming.

Wordlessly, soundlessly, they disembarked the train, and for a short while walked in perfect synchronicity to the escalator. It was there he found his voice.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Oh.” His unlined brow strained to form wrinkles of confusion. “I thought that…maybe we’d met before.”

She shook her head again.

He shrugged and set off down the escalator, melting into the crowd below.

She had been pretty once, or at least that’s what they told her. There was a time when boys like this would look at her with lust instead of pity. There was a time when this boy had looked at her like that. But what good would it have done to tell him that yes, he did know her, before the accident that stripped her of her face and left behind the empty shell that had just now stood before him?

She shrugged and set off down the escalator, melting into the crowd below.

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To accompany this post I tried to find a picture that encapsulates the idea of things not always being what they seem. This one was taken in the Singapore Museum last year, and I remember being blown away by this walkway surrounded by thousands of television screens, the images of which combined to make bigger images that told a story. Impressive doesn’t quite cover it.

Banishing the January Blues

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The plan was to shake off the New Year’s Eve hangover and embrace the second day of the year with vim and vigour, starting as I meant to go on with smiles for everyone and a super productive day at work.

The reality was waking at 7.15am to a box of cold pizza on my bedroom floor and a feeling of dread so palpable it could have raised the dead. Frankly my fellow commuters would have been more likely to see the Pope than my pearly whites on the train this morning – by a country mile.

Despite the promise that a new year brings – the opportunity to wipe the slate clean and start afresh, the chance to leave bad habits behind and forge good ones in their place – it’s often as early as the first day back at work that the cold reality hits. The stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve has not, as anticipated, brought with it a Cinderella-style transformation. Nothing is going to magically change, and in order to make things change you must invest considerable time and effort into achieving it. For many that realisation alone is enough to get them reaching for the biscuit tin and pouring a stiff drink.

But whilst for many the ink has barely dried on their shiny new gym membership before they’re sneaking a burger in the fast food outlet next door (which they’ll be torturing themselves about for the next 363 days), for those who are serious about making meaningful changes in their lives the new year can offer the perfect catalyst towards success.

I’m hopeful, as I embark on this 365 day writing challenge, that I no longer fall into the former category of gym-dodging burger-eaters (well, only at weekends), and instead fall (or rather firmly place myself) into the category of new year go-getters.

And you know what? My first day back wasn’t so bad after all.

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Today’s photograph is to celebrate the birth of my very good friend Caroline’s baby, the soon-to-be-formally-named Wibble. This photo was taken a few weeks ago at the baby shower, and I can’t believe he’s finally with us! Born on 1st January at 5.30am, he is the first baby in my close circle of friends and a fabulous reason to celebrate the new year 🙂 x

And so it begins….

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Hello, and welcome to my brand new (not quite all-singing and all-dancing – YET) website. I had hoped to have all the bells and whistles sorted out by the launch date, but had vastly underestimated my technological capabilities, so the design will be a work in progress – the most important thing is the writing itself.

Why set up a website? Over the past ten years I have kept a number of online blogs to document the various trials and tribulations of my sometimes turbulent, sometimes serene, always entertaining life. I have also written a lot of fiction, several articles and some guest blogs on other sites. But never have I had one place where I could showcase my whole writing portfolio for a more professional purpose – until now.

Why belle365? My favourite writing challenge is National Novel Writing Month when, for the month of November every year, thousands of aspiring writers from across the globe commit to writing a fifty thousand word novel in thirty days. Having taken part in this challenge four times to date, I can honestly say for those thirty days I am more creative than the rest of the year put together. It’s not easy writing an average of 1,700 words a day whilst holding down a full time job, but it’s amazing how much you can achieve if you put your mind to it. It is because of this I have decided to bite the bullet and make my new year’s resolution for 2013 to create this website and post something EVERY SINGLE DAY. I have come up with some rules (see ‘The Rules’ section) which cover length and type of post etc. but the basic premise is that I plan to post a mixture of new and old fiction, non-fiction and blog posts. Because I love photography and want this website to be colourful and interesting I will also post a picture every day, which can be taken on the day itself or chosen from my photo archives.

This was post one of three hundred and sixty five. I hope you will enjoy this website, and I wish you all a Happy New Year!

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I took this picture last year whilst travelling in India, and thought it would be a fitting first image for my website, as the sunrise signifies a new beginning.