It has finally happened. I have conceded. I have joined the ladies-who-lunch brigade and have been accepted into what is, by all accounts, a rather smart book club on 5th Avenue.
What was I thinking? I have yielded to my vanity!
This is not an opportunity for a bit of Joanna Trollope and a girly natter over chocolate biscuits squeezed into someone’s cosy flat. No. This book club is for grown ups. Smart women with multiple degrees, serious careers and a penchant for reading Virginia Woolf. Shall I be caught out on day one as an imposter and fraud who loves the merry romp of a Jilly Cooper rather than anything marginally, even fractionally heavier? Quite possibly.
Well, I shall just have to stop ruminating and clutching madly at my hair with tremulous hands and go to the bookshop. I have to purchase not just one, but two books which need to be read within 3 weeks. I’ve made my bed and now I shall lie in it, with the books no doubt.
Just a teensy thought, I wonder what one wears to a book club meeting on Fifth Avenue? Hmm … my book shopping might need to include some clothes shopping …
I am now a modern woman. I have an App and it is called Audible.
I have precisely one book in my Audible library and of the twelve hours of listening that is required before I can pronounce I have finished it, I have completed just one hour, thirty-five minutes and a smattering of seconds.
Presumably, I can only imagine that because the book is about various women, it is therefore being read by a number of women, one of whom has a rather irritating voice. Nasal, whiny, like a cat in a fight. I don’t enjoy her chapters very much and thus far she has read a lot of them.
The issue I have is one of multi-tasking. I had imagined that I could walk around New York listening to my book whilst running a few errands, window shopping, picking up the groceries. No. It simply doesn’t work like that.
I find myself walking aimlessly in the wrong direction clutching at my ears trying to stop the earplugs from falling out, yet again; I stand, endlessly staring into shop windows, seeing nothing, just listening to the story; I gaze at displays of fruit for so long that I am asked by random strangers if I need help; and all the while I am trying to concentrate on a book, a plot, numerous different characters and all delivered by a nasal, whiny voice.
Perhaps I should persevere. Perhaps I should revert to a physical book with lovely pages to touch and feel. Perhaps I am simply too long in the tooth for this audiobook malarkey. And yet, when I heard of people who by June had already read fifty books that year (were they showing off?) I question how on earth they managed this. Do they too have audiobooks and spend their days plugged into their phones, whilst simultaneously running their multinational conglomerates? Or do they read through the night with a torch under the duvet?
I shall, for the time being, persevere. And if I reach the stage whereby I want to bludgeon the nasal voice to death, I shall revert to a proper book with proper paper pages. I shall hide with it late at night under the bedcovers, with a torch and its undoubtedly dying battery, just like I used to as a child. After all, isn’t that what normal people do?
Sometimes the truth hits me like a slap round the face with a cold, wet fish. Deeply unpleasant with a lingering odour, but eye opening once the scales have been pulled from my eyes, if you’ll excuse the pun.
The more I write, the greater is the realisation that I need to read more, more, and even more. Education is key and that is the truth.
Writing a memoir of course also requires experiencing life so that there’s actually something to write about. It wouldn’t exactly be a bestseller if I wrote about the fluff that accumulates in my navel even if I had a social media following of tens of thousands (unless of course they too were navel gazers).
Not being a highbrow or educationally sophisticated reader, I like a light-hearted book. Bill Bryson is my latest and has me giggling happily on the train, in the bath and sometimes in the coffee shop where I’m supposed to be writing. Thankfully books are not expensive because the truth is, I need a few. I’ve pondered with a Kindle, but I worry about it falling in the bath. I don’t know the difference between an e-book and an audio book, but if they are the ones where Stephen Fry’s dulcet tones come out of a pair of headphones, I don’t think that would be awfully safe on my bicycle. So I think I shall stick to the good old fashioned paperback and remember when it falls into that bath, to fan out the pages before putting it on the radiator, otherwise one has less of a book and more of a brick and that’s not terribly easy to read.
Sometimes I astonish myself. It is quite extraordinary how I can so masterfully waste time. If there were degrees being handed out here, I’d have a First, with a distinction, several stars and a cherry on top for good measure.
I see myself as an (occasionally) rational person; I understand that time is one commodity that we in theory have control over, and yet as it slips away hour by hour, day by day, I manage to waste it on utter nonsense.
As I said to a fellow blogger this morning, what historically used to be ‘reading time’ to keep the grey matter alive and kicking, and as a very enjoyable pastime, I now can waste hours, hours on my iPad googling holidays that I obviously can’t afford, ways to make my eyelashes look longer and houses for sale in the deepest depths of France. And I use the word ‘waste’ because despite all this lengthy research, I still have no romantic little city-break booked, no house in Provence with a sparkling swimming pool, and my eyelashes are still as stubby as they were last week.
Reading my latest book, ( Get Your Sh*t Together by Sarah Knight) I have now had to resort to reading it in the bath. Even though my iPad I am sure would work perfectly well in the bathroom, I still have visions of it falling in amongst the bubbles and yours truly being electrocuted …. found days later with Rigor Mortis deforming my body and face whilst donning a particularly attractive perm. Not quite the death I had envisaged. As an aside, if one dies in an odd position, this ‘Rigor Mortis’ sets in, how do they fit you into a coffin? Would they have to force and squeeze you tightly into a recumbent, legs together position and then nail the lid on quickly in case suddenly you popped out like a Jack-in-the-box? Just a thought …
Anyway, I digress … now that I have used up my previous ‘reading time’, I am now using up my ‘bath’ time. Perhaps when I have realised that in fact I cannot be electrocuted by a battery operated machine, I will stop reading in the bath and the dreaded iPad will venture into the bathroom and I will start googling more nonsense from there. Heavens! My life is being taken over by a 6 x 9 inch piece of metal with a rather attractive purple cover.
So, Sarah Knight of the aforementioned book, explains very clearly and assisted by some fairly fruity language, that my problem is time management. We all have the designated 24 hours in a day, it’s just that some of us choose to use it better than others.
So, my resolution for the fast approaching New Year is to manage my time considerably better. Firstly I shall don a watch (that I secretly think my lovely husband is giving me for Christmas because I am apparently always late which is hard for these military types to cope with. As it’s a Christmas present I obviously can’t start this resolution immediately – procrastinator – surely not?). I shall then make to-do lists, must-do lists, get-your-bottom-off-the-sofa-lists. I shall have spreadsheets and bar charts and attempt to become a wonderfully efficient version of the scatty, forgetful, googling me. After all, isn’t that what resolutions are all about, a moment of pre-Christmas excited enthusiasm in changing one’s somewhat shoddy ways for the better? Any suggestions more than welcome.
Are you a time-waster like me? 😬
Are you organised and efficient? HOW do you do it …. ?
What do you google? (As per previous posts, nothing smutty or vulgar please!)
I am as ever, reading about three books on the go. I cannot claim that this is even in part due to a wondrous ability to multitask. No, this is simply because there are so many fabulous books out there and I want to read them all, now. I am nothing if not needy, demanding and impetuous.
As some of you know, moderation has never been my thing. Indeed, a tendency to get marginally overexcited when encountering something new has a partial influence on my inability to have a modicum of patience. Therefore finishing one thing before commencing something new is a tad alien to me. (This probably accounts for the chaos in my life!)
My point here is this. I have recently started a book by Sarah Knight entitled “Get Your Sh*t Together”. Interesting title (she says with a pompous sniff) and one which certainly made me wonder how on earth it could have ended up on the shelves of such a middle class shop as Oliver Bonas. However ….. I now see why she has the honour of being a ‘bestselling author’ of more than one book.
If like me, those dark, dank and dreary days of winter are already taking their toll on you, buy this book. Buy this book and then read this book. (Unless you have an understandable aversion to bad language. To say it is peppered with it throughout, would be an understatement).
It is simple enough for even the intellectually stifled like myself. Frankly if it wasn’t for having another two books to read, this could be done and dusted, cover to cover in less than 48 hours. And …. it’s worth it.
It is inspiring even for those who have their life well and truly in their own minds, on track. For the rest of us mere mortals who are floundering slightly with ‘to do’ lists that never are truly done, and daydreams that never seem to materialise into something tangible, it is absolutely worth a few very happy hours of sinking into your favourite armchair whilst the dark rain falls outside. It truly is, for any fellow procrastinators out there, a kick up the backside and an alternative way of getting one’s sh*t together, without an irritating little man with a megaphone shouting, “Get up and get a life!” Frankly I’d want to hit him with a shovel, but occasionally it’s what I need.
How do you combat the winter blues?
What books get you excited? (Nothing smutty please!)