Postcard from home

I took my holidays early this year so I'm spending the summer in Birmingham working, writing and helping to organise the PowWow LitFest. Given that we've actually had some sunny weather this summer, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. After all, Birmingham does look like a tourist destination sometimes.

Postcard from the stone

I'm currently revising my latest novel, which means paying attention to details such as settings.The plot is in place, the characters are full of life - so now I need to colour in the scenery to allow readers to build a full picture of events in their mind. I tend to skip over that stage in my first drafts.

It should be easy. After all, I set my books in the city I live in. I regularly walk through it. In theory I know what it looks like and only have to translate that into words on the page. But although I think I'm observant it turns out I haven't been looking quite closely enough.

I went on a walking tour recently themed around the sculpture of William Bloye. His work enhances a lot of Birmingham's public and private buildings and he was Professor of Sculpture at the city's art school, which ties in nicely with some events in my book. Once I started looking at his work, I remembered other things I've seen in a similar vein. Connections were made, ideas generated, stories began to develop. I bet thousands of people walk past the plaque in the photo above every day without looking properly. They've probably got other things on their minds; it is near the entrance to a police station.

The tour was a good reminder to keep my eyes open and a notebook to hand. And it drew my attention to the story of a dog who accompanied his stone mason owner to work every day and is now immortalised in the fabric of the city. Bet not many Brummies have noticed, despite it being in a prime central location. I like how some of the city's stories are marked in its stones. Now I just have to tell a few of them.

Postcard from Bournville

Yesterday I took a spring sunshine stroll down the road to Bournville - home of Cadbury's and a cafe serving brownies made with the famous local product (other cakes were also available: including lemon curd and rhubarb for those of a less chocoholic disposition). Lawnmowers hummed, daffodils swayed in the breeze across the Green, coaches rolled into Cadbury World and I remembered why I couldn't actually live there. It's a lovely place to visit, but all feels staged. I guess I prefer my suburbs chaotically organic rather than pleasantly planned.

Still, I appreciated the afternoon out. Recent, hectic, days have included speaking at two events about Park Life, going to work and attending a wedding. Oh, and a theatre trip, a second visit to Bletchley Park, choir, new carpet, writing the new novel and time with family and friends. All good, interesting, entertaining things but I feel it's always important to pause and make time for tea. And also important to try local specialities. I know Bournville chocolate is readily available throughout the UK, but look: I was practically sitting in the factory. It would have been rude not to!

Postcard from the city

'Mister Volder goes to the City' is a surreal short story by Ben Pacey. A man arrives in a new place and tries to build a life there assisted by a talking dog with a cough which might improve if it smoked fewer cigarettes. The story is also the inspiration behind an exhibition currently on at the mac in Birmingham. There's a short film which gave me the disoriented feeling of arriving in a new place, copies of the story to read, a model city and, best of all, postcards!

These postcards invite their readers to create their own Mr Volder story. That's my 'The Birds'-inspired one posted above. You can see more at their postcard blog and there's a running display as part of the exhibition.

The combination of postcards and stories was almost guaranteed to appeal to me. Why not try it? Head down to the mac, buy a coffee and take a seat. It'll be a nice day out in the city. Unless any small dogs speak to you...

Postcard from book club

I haven't got on well with book clubs in the past. Too frequently having to read books I didn't enjoy or listen to people who like the sound of their own voice despite having nothing relevant to say had put me off. But when I heard Waterstones on New Street in Birmingham were putting together a group to judge the longlist for The Guardian's First Book Award, I was tempted to have another go.

One reason was the fact the award covers non-fiction, and poetry as well as fiction and the thought of reading well beyond my usual, safe choices appealed. Another reason was an assumption that all the books might be good by virtue of being on the longlist. These things are subjective but, despite that assumption, I quickly ran into one of my problems - I had to read books I didn't enjoy. At all.

It was intense - 11 books in 8 weeks and weekly meetings to collate our opinions. A good challenge for a writer looking to improve her critical reading though. And, here's the real highlight, the other members of the group were great. We didn't always agree, but that was part of the joy of it because we never fell out and had many laughs along the way.

The Guardian will announce the final shortlist based on input from ours and 3 other groups soon but here's my personal pick (and issues - while the point is that these are first books, ie the author has room to grow, none of them got unreserved praise from me):
The China Factory by Mary Costello - moving, tender, beautifully expressed short stories (but there's little light to temper the shade in the collection so I don't recommend reading it in one go and the male characters didn't always ring true to me)
The Yellow Birds by Kevin Powers - intense observations from the front line (but this one split our group - some didn't rate it)
Absolution by Patrick Flanery - by far the most accomplished and satisfying read of the list (but perhaps too clever for its own good - it makes the reader work hard for the story).

Postcard by hand

What you'll also know is that I sometimes experience confusion about where apostrophes should be!

Philip Henser article

Postcard from The Voyage

A great big ship isn't what you expect to see in the middle of a land-locked city such as Birmingham. But a big ship is what we've had for the past weekend, albeit a fake one designed as a stage for a dance, music and light show. And it was great.

Not just seeing a ship docked against the Town Hall, but the entire show which included the excitement of a launch, the sadness of separation (with projected love letters as shown above), the tragedy of shipwreck and a joyous arrival. And it was free!

Apparently it was something to do with London 2012 but that makes so little sense I'm going to ignore it. I want to go on a Voyage again and I don't care who pays.

Postcard from the Jubilee

Britain has a problem. Not only because someone is bothering to dress this poor statue up for any excuse; not only because of the weather/performance at Eurovision/government/etc, but because of this: the word 'bostin'' has dropped out of common parlance.

As I was wondering whether to take this photo of the bull's Jubilee outfit given that a passing bird had removed what may have remained of his dignity with that white smear on his forehead, a couple stopped to read the sign placed by his rump. It's advertising the shopping centre's contributions to the summer of celebrations across Britain. They've branded this the 'Bostin British Summer'.

One of the pair said, (in an English accent, though not West Midlands) 'What's 'bostin'?'

I can't blame him. It's Brummie slang you don't hear used much even in Brum.

I don't really mind the Jubilee bunting overkill, the Olympic endurance event or anything else that's making 2012 the summer to supposedly end all summers. I just can't help thinking Britain would be a nicer place if it were Bostin rather than trying to be Great.

Postcard from the United Nations

This scale-replica of a UN office in Geneva came to Birmingham as part of Fierce Festival. It was a delight to see the chosen dachshunds taking their seats as representatives of various countries and likely that they managed to achieve as much in their 'meeting' as any UN council does. They certainly behaved well. Only a few tried to escape and their media coverage was overwhelmingly positive. Perhaps the world really should go to the dogs.

Can't say I was impressed by the entrepreneurial fast food vendor who'd set up stall to sell hot dogs next to the gathering though...

Postcard from the wood

I can't say I'd noticed this particular tree, until it was gone. It stood on the bank of the River Rea and I've walked past several times recently without noticing there was any kind of problem with it. That might be because I've actually been on 'kingfisher watch' hoping for a repeat of the sighting I had a week or so ago, or it might be a case of not seeing the tree for the woods.

When daffodils are blooming, birds are tweeting and other trees are coming into blossom or bud it was sad to see the exposed interior of this tree. I tried to count the rings but lost my way after a considerable number of years above my own age.

The cut surface will soon weather and the stump will be a great home for fungus and insect life, I'm sure. It was just sad today, with the potential of spring in the air, to see something come to an end.

Postcard from the treetops

One advantage of living on a hillside is the view of the sky. The only time I like cold weather is when it's sunny as well; and when planes leave interesting vapour trails perfectly framed in my roof light then winter doesn't seem so bad.

The temperature is in deep freeze at the moment. The forecast is for a warmer tomorrow, but that means clouds and rain as well. Boo. I wonder where the plane which veered to the right was going? It's heading south, so the destination may have been warmer than Birmingham...

Postcard from underwater III

For someone who isn't keen on fish, I seem to spend a lot of time at aquariums. It always strikes me as weird that somewhere as far from the coast as Birmingham has such a large Sea Life Centre and even weirder that when I have visitors they want to go there.

It has improved since my last visit a couple of years ago. There are now otters (aaahhh!) and a 4-D cinema. In which the fourth dimension is...guess what...water!

The otters were cute but moved too fast for my camera. I had to stand still for a long time to get a shot in which it appeared the fish were kissing. Now I know how the paparazzi feel.

Postcard from the pond

Autumn's colours are already fading. A walk through Highbury Park this afternoon proved that the leaves are falling, not just turning. A mob of ducks gathered at the other end of the pond where a toddler had food for them and I was left with this reflection. Bonfires were smoking in back gardens and squirrels were dashing up trees and dislodging more leaf litter. Somehow it's less antisocial when nature behaves in a loutish manner.

Postcard from the library

Well, not so much the library as the building site of what will be Birmingham's central library. It's not quite ready for the books yet. Given the issues with funding for libraries elsewhere in the country, it's great to see Brum investing in the concept with a whizzy new building. Also good to see is that it won't be another concrete hulk and will instead be a little bit bling. Nice.

I know I'm not the only Birmingham writer to use the central library resources for research as well as sometimes working at a desk there. So I'm hoping facilities at the new building will be everything we need. That's not much: desk, light, chair. The fancy exterior and cutting edge technological fit out is all very nice; but my biggest wish for the new building is that the escalators don't squeak. The noise from the current ones is ear bleedingly distracting.

I was lucky enough to be visiting the new building on a tour which included a chance to see some of the treasures which will move into the building once it's complete. Among the inspirational items for a writer included a First Folio of Shakespeare's plays and Caxton's first printed book. One item which will remind me of the old library though was a German speaking picture book. You can see an example demonstrated here then imagine those sounds on a constant loop coming from the escalator. Now do you understand why I can't wait for the new building to be ready?

Postcard from The Big Draw

The Big Draw is a campaign whose aim is to get everyone drawing. They claim "Drawing helps us to think, invent and communicate – regardless of age and ability." Filling a wall with Etch-a-Sketches is guaranteed to tempt passers by at the MAC to have a go. Critical design fault though: you can't shake the frames to erase previous 'scribbles'. Which means that only the highest placed had room for new 'drawing' and those of us who are not so tall couldn't reach them.

What would you guess to be the most common 'sketch' made? Yup, names. Why pass up an opportunity to tag your graffiti?

Postcard from Martineau Gardens

I'm fond of late summer/early autumn for a number of reasons, including fruitfulness. When I visited Martineau Gardens in Edgbaston harvest was in progress in the veg plots while laden boughs in the orchard begged to be scrumped. Grapes dangled from their vine and enticed with the promise of a nice glass of red. Although, I have to admit to doubts about how Brum-grown wine would turn out.

Not that my local produce can be faulted in any other way. I've been fortunate to have been gifted some cucumbers from a friend's garden about a mile away and some tomatoes from the allotments next door - can't get more locally sourced than that. Well, I could; if I did any gardening of my own. As someone who has managed to kill a houseplant in the last week though, I think it safest to admire plants from afar. Until they're ready for my plate of course.

Postcard from the museum storage depot

One problem with museums is that they only have a limited amount of space. So visitors have to look at what has been chosen for display by the curators. Which is all very well, but when the museum actually owns thousands of other objects it's a bit of a shame. So I loved having a root around the Museums Collection Centre which is a big warehouse storing all the items owned by museums in Birmingham which aren't part of current exhibitions.

It's more akin to having a rummage around an antiques shop than going to a museum. Items are arranged more by whether they fit the storage space than their relation to the object next to them. So a carved horse from a merry-go-round sits next to some engine parts; empty gilt frames lean against a model of the canal network in the Black Country. Wandering at random down aisles stacked like a surreal warehouse, or peering into cabinets packed with odd assortments of household items, sparks ideas and memories.

There's a writing workshop as part of the Birmingham Book Festival this year in which you could spend the night locked in this place. I'd love to read some of the work produced on the night, but you couldn't persuade me to stay overnight. Who knows what's lurking in among the artefacts to jump out after dark?

Postcard from the removal van

Apologies for the lack of posts. I've been moving home and am currently without internet access. It was distressing to see all my worldly goods crammed into a van; but they have now arrived safely at my new place.

I do have more attractive pictures to share from recent outings and will do so once my broadband goes live. Watch this space!

Postcard from the food festival

You might think the ideal food festival starts with a literal interpretation of the name. Food in a festival setting, what's not to like? There's no denying that the addition of a 12 foot high lobster riding in a cart towed by a man in hunting regalia livens things up a little though.

The food was good, as was the drink. The entertainment seemed to be straightforward: cooking demos and a jazz band, until things took a turn towards surreal...

Postcard from the path

I've posted from Winterbourne before, but it's the kind of place which rewards a visit in all seasons. In fact, the cafe rewards a visit full stop.

You already know the only gardening I do is in the line of admiration rather than action, and that I'm fond of a cake, so what's new? Well, Winterbourne is owned by the University of Birmingham - a fine educational establishment which saw fit to confer a degree upon me - and both are in Edgbaston, which I've recently heard is the leafiest suburb in Western Europe.

Birmingham likes these kinds of claims. While other cities  make a lot of noise about how special they are, Birmingham comes up with fascinating facts such as 'more canals than Venice' (true, but hardly comparing like with like), or 'more parks than Paris'. And now the leaves. What I want to know is: who counted?

There are a lot of trees in Edgbaston and I'm thrilled my degree came with added leaf quotient. Another fact: last year a record number of tourists came to Birmingham. My top tip for visitors: take a stroll down this garden path and check out the cakes.