'Technoverload'  

Like others of a similar age, I dabble in the technological arena.  In some instances I like to think that I am fairly proficient; at work for example I use Excel to a reasonable level, I am more Photoshop literate than most people I know and I am currently getting to grips with Creative Suite.  However, social media and the further reaching aspects of wifi and 3G quite frankly give me the heebie-jeebies.  My feelings about them are not dissimilar to my feelings about the sea - I like to dip my toes in and play every now and then and on very rare occasions I will even go for a full dip.  Whilst I'm out there I have to keep looking underneath me, I feel vulnerable and unsure of what is lurking in the depths.  Invariably this notion overwhelms me and, somewhat panicked, I swim back to shore.

'How can you feel like that and write a blog?' I hear you ask.  As anyone who is following my gobbledegook will know I am a very recent blogger.  I blame the OU.  It is they who got me -  first on a forum (never done that before) then setting up my own blog (that either), next testing out the amazing annotation programme (first time I'd used that).  These 'firsts' led me onto the slippery slope.  I have since rejoined Facebook after two years of paranoia induced absence and have spent the last three days playing with my new iPad.  There's an iTunesU app on which you can access an array of enticing (and free) resources.  Not to mention the BBCiPlayer on which they are currently featuring Shakespeare's Henry IV and Richard II.  I can access my emails, keep up with my blog, contact my friends, connect with my Kindle, organise my diary, do the shopping!!! ....  And breathe......  I can't put the thing down!  I didn't know I needed one 'til my lovely husband got me one and now I am constantly walking around clutching this beautiful, shiny, magic tablet.  I have spent an inordinate amount of time organising the layout of the colourful little icons, setting the wallpaper and login background, adjusting settings and looking for free apps.  Cocooned by my collection of gadgets (all red or pink I might add) I check my inbox on the iPad, take a quick flick through Facebook then shift to my laptop (sometimes you just need a bigger screen) to compile my sons photobook online.  Whilst doing this my iPad tinkles at me and my aunt is contacting me from Malta via Facebook.  She wants a chat, I'm fighting with the useless online photo formatting system  (I'm on a tight deadline here) and then my mobile pings - a text has come through and I really should respond to it.  Out of the corner of my eye my Kindle light turns to amber telling me that the battery is low.  So much to do and so little time, says the panicky voice in my head, my heart beats faster -  I should be looking this up, I should be watching that...  It's time to switch off, I must switch off.  I go to bed and a vivid mass of coloured screens and icons fly through my mind.

For the second morning I wake up exhausted, with a techno hangover.  I amble around the kitchen trying to resist the urge to switch on 'my precioussss' and glance over at my 'to read' bookshelf.  I look lovingly at my comfy reading chair.  Here is improvement and knowledge, here is escapism, here is calmness and quiet,...  here is my half read book on the shelf.  Tonight I will sit and I will read my book.....
......................  just as soon as I have checked my emails....

One In The Eye

The Butterfly Effect & The Bad Mother

Monday morning and the usual routine;  I'm putting on my makeup, 'T' is cursing and shuffling through some papers on his desk, the dogs are lying in the tiny hallway between us taking up all the floor space, 'M' and 'J' are upstairs 'getting ready' for school, 'A' hasn't surfaced yet.  There are crashing and thumping sounds coming from the boys' bedroom.  Nothing different to any other weekday morning.  The thudding stops and an intermittent mewing sound trails down the stairs.  All is quiet until the dogs jump up in anticipation.  'A' shuffles past barely conscious, 'morning, what's that noise?' I ask.  Through puffy eyes 'A' looks at me and makes a sound that I translate to mean, 'I don't know'.  Off he shuffles to walk the now expectant and excitable dogs.  The mewing sound continues.  'M' is that you, whats the matter?' I shout........Nothing..... I plough on with the foundation.  It happens again, 'T' tuts and looks at me frustrated 'what's that noise?'  I decide to investigate, as I approach the top of the stairs 'J' emerges from the bedroom, 'it was an accident, I flicked him in the eye with my shorts' he says sheepishly as he sidles past me and down the stairs.  I walk into the room to find a red faced 'M' holding his hand over his eye, 'It hurts, it's burning!' he cries.  I move his hand and look at the eye, he can barely open it.  I take him to the bathroom and put a cold flannel over it.  'Hold that there for a minute and then try and open your eye, we need to get moving, we are going to be late'. 'T' pops his head around the door, 'You OK mate? Just blink a bit and it'll be alright, I'm off babe - got a lot to cram in today'. 

An hour later I am sitting at my desk about to start work, my phone rings, seconds before I answer I know who's on the other end, 'hello, this is Matron from the Boys School, I have your son with me, I'm not overly concerned but.......'  A conversation ensues, a quick chat with 'M' and then, 'I'll be there in about 10 minutes'.  I take 'M' home and leave him sitting on the sofa.  Half an hour later I am back at my desk trying to remember what I had been about to do the first time when my phone rings.  It's 'T', 'I just popped back home and thought I ought to tell you we are on our way to A&E, you can't mess around with eyes can you?'  Two hours later I get another call, 'he has an abrasion on his eyeball, anaesthetic eye drops mean that he can't blink properly for a few hours and he has some antibiotic ointment.'  What can I say?

A few years ago a fellow pupil trod on 'M's finger during sports day.  It was the first thing he told me when I arrived.   I looked at said finger but saw nothing untoward 'Wiggle your fingers' I said and he summarily played the air piano, 'they seem fine' I said assuredly.  A week later and about one day before we were due to go on holiday, 'M' told me his finger still hurt.  I had a look.  I don't know much about broken bones but I guessed that the top of the finger being bent sideways was probably not a good sign..... 

 The First Steps

Well here we are, I have finally navigated my way around the site and configured my first ever blog!  I am sure there will be adjustments to make not only on this page but for me personally - this is after all so.......public. 

In October I will begin the first module of a Humanities Degree with a Creative Writing pathway.  All going to plan, this part time course will take six years to complete.  I am already in contact with other students on the OU Start Studying forum.  Reading the posts on the forum creates both excitement and fear.  The ages appear to range from 18-50something and many of us seem to be experiencing the same feelings: eagerness to get going but fear that we are in some way lacking.  Some haven't studied for years, some didn't succeed recently, some don't think they have read enough books.   As in all walks of life some come across as confident and competent and here my insecurity raises its head.  I haven't used my analytical skills for over four years (I took an openings course with the OU to test the waters).  What makes me think I can do this?  My brain has been mush for years!  I live in a busy household with six people and two dogs, how am I going to study?  Luckily I have a supportive husband and family.  We have worked out the logistics, so whilst those doubts are tapping away in my brain I have to push them to one side and allow room for my belief to grow.  I need to exercise my brain, or indeed exorcize it - get rid of the demons of doubt and focus on expanding the memory muscle. 

Well, I make no promises this journey could go either way but it would be great if you could take my hand and come with me.......