No Words
For once, I have nothing to say. I feel sort of paralysed.
This is very sad. But also, in some weird way, uplifting.
This is very sad. But also, in some weird way, uplifting.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
About Me
-
- Name: Clare Sudbery
- Location: Manchester, United Kingdom
I’m a freelance writer, I’ve just written my second novel, and I can hold seventeen pencils under each breast. During my 37 years on this planet I’ve been a Scrabble fanatic, a trapeze artist, a maths and philosophy graduate, a cleaner, a revolutionary socialist, a hedonist, a lesbian vegetarian women-only workers’ co-op member and a meat-eating heterosexual computer programmer. I live in inner city Manchester, in a decrepit house with bits of old ship in the cellar, a dismembered shop dummy in the garden, a child on the sofa and a journalist in the bed. I once went to trapeze lessons for a whole year. I loved being upside down and in the sky, but I wasn’t very good at it. I was never really a trapeze artist. An interview with me. Me Me Me Me Me.
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Previous Posts
I WAS AN INMATE IN THE BIG BLOGGER HOUSE
- Me Introducing Myself
- Me Introducing Myself (a bit more)
- My Idea of the Perfect Party
- The Rules of My Favourite Sport (in song form!) (actually sung!)
- The Most Selfish and Selfless Things I Have Ever Done
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- My Manifesto For a Better World
- Canvassing For Votes Via Spam
- A Bedtime Story
- Playing With Place Names
4 Comments:
Hi Clare--
Stumbled across your site because we have a shared love of Martin Millar, and, it would appear, a vague geographical association (I used to live in Timperley).
I'll be buying the book. I promise (Actually, I'll get it bought me - the New year's res. this year was 'no books').
I'll be reading the blog anyhoo.
John, welcome!
Your post is very timely, as just in the last hour I was feeling a bit jaded, and this has cheered me up no end.
I work in Altrincham and drive through Timperley on my way to work every day.
Martin Millar is wonderful, isn't he?
Hmmm, either there's some kind of weird caching issue on my PC, or the post I was referring to in Julia Darling's blog has now been deleted.
So if anyone followed the link in my post and is now a bit confused... er, me too.
OK, I think there's some kind of strangeness on Julia Darling's website. There was a post on her blog yesterday which I could see from work, but then when I got home I couldn't see it, but now I'm back in work and it's there again. I dunno whether it's some kind of caching issue on my home PC, or maybe the post disappeared and then reappeared... but just in case you can't see it, here it is:
Julia in Bed Dictating To Bev
It's ten past 7 in the morning and I have just finished my cornflakes and milk which has turned out to be my favourite food after all these years. The Po sisters are playing. In the last week I have discovered so much new music through compilations people have sent over. Sharon Bailey brought me the 2004 world music concert which I was sorry I missed. A neighbour brought round Rufus Wainwright, and I have been listening to the golden oldies like John Martyn and Dark Side of the Moon. The walls are covered with drawings and portraits that people have done or I've painted. Sharon has also been sorting out the cover of the new book Eating the Elephant and other Plays which we both like very much. Claire Malcolm at New Writing North is sorting it all out it's ever so complicated like all books especially books of plays, it's all that proofing and stuff. It's been like an office in here looking at fonts and post card designs for the 'First aid kit for the mind' with Emma Holliday and Smart. The first aid kit will be launched mid April (very soon), hopefully you will all find out where.
Last Thursday though I hoiked myself out of bed and went with Bev, Karin Young and Jackie Kay to see the dress rehearsal for the Manifesto for a New City at Hexham. Although I say it myself I really loved it. Jim Kitson's acapella arrangements are blissful and I liked what it was saying as well. It went down very well with the audience on two subsequent nights. It's sad that it's not on in Newcastle, though it is showing at the Customs House and Alnwick and later at the Tron in Glasgow. Usually when my plays are on I lie on the floor and feel like icy daggers are plunging in my heart so I must have done something right. It owes a lot to Duska Heaney and Alan Lyddiard but especially Jim Kitson.
I don't think I am going to be up out of my bed again, that's a funny idea. The last two weeks I've been surrounded by love and I've had everything I could possibly need but it's really nearly time to say goodbye and I'm not afraid of death just very sad about the people I leave behind. I'm not in pain which is as they say ' a blessing'. I get a bit sick of nurses peering at me. There are several things I would really like to have gone to but I don't think it's going to happen. So can I send my thanks and best thoughts to everyone out there because it's really a very incredible world. You end up talking in cliches at this point so I'll stop before I go really doo lally.
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