England and America are two countries separated by a common language.

You speak the truth, George Bernard Shaw.

I've just spent a good twenty minutes (actually, a BAD twenty minutes) on the phone waiting for a customer-service representative from my website package provider to pick up...

For some reason, bearing in mind it's a British company, all the sickeningly patronising recorded messages were in 'American.'

After the seventeenth time of hearing THIS...(cue sappy background music)

 "Because of the personal attention given to every caller you may experience a brief delay. Please remain on the line and a representative will assist you momentarily."

...I was ready to scream down the phone 'I DON'T WANT TO BE ASSISTED MOMENTARILY, I WANT TO BE ASSISTED FOR AS LONG AS IT TAKES TO RESOLVE MY PROBLEM!' 

Because, you see, in MY language to do something momentarily is to do it for a very brief while - FOR A MOMENT. It doesn't mean IN a brief while.

See? 

Additionally, to me 'a moment' DOES NOT MEAN 23 MINUTES!

Got it?

A slight touch of phone rage, Mrs. Coxon?

People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances.

The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and if they can't find them, make them.

Ouch, George Bernard Shaw. That's a bit heavy for first thing on a Monday morning, but annoyingly true.

I don't know if it's particularly true for an aspiring writer. (I should stop saying that. I AM a writer) I feel as though it is, because we're always having to pitch, put ourselves out there, lay bare our souls in order to find an agent, get work published, get work READ even, get screenplays made...

Circumstances are all too easy to hide behind. I don't feel 100%...I must concentrate on PAID work rather than indulging my creativity...I'll do it later/tomorrow/next week when I'm on top of things...I haven't got the time...

Actually, all that is just faltering self-belief.

It's simple. Simple is not the same as easy.

 George Bernard Shaw's speaking to me again...(sometimes I wish he'd just go away.)

"You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say "Why not?"

Okay, I'll do it.

The secret of life is in art

More Oscar Wilde.

Some Caroline Coxon - how life-affirming art can be and I want to know why. Not why in general, but why a particular piece of art grabs me by the throat and the heart and the soul and makes me feel ALIVE. Dangerous territory. Welcome, amateur psychologists everywhere.

This is the piece that did it, discovered by accident yesterday when I was looking for Andrew Wyeth images.

It's called 'Winter is coming, dear Red Riding Hood,' and it's by an artist called Daria Kudla.

 She was born in Poland in 1982, lives in Berlin, where she also works as a technical translator AND, in her profile she writes, "I love spending free time with horses and poetry, " - so she must be okay. Anyone who spends time with horses invariably IS. In fact, here is her self portrait:

 ...but it's the Little Red Riding Hood I love, above all. Why? I suppose apart from the beauty of the image, it's the subverting of a fairy tale - something which I've just done with the same story (mine's called There is no wolf) The wolf as victim, as heroine, as protectoress...


I hope I can buy a print.

And now I have TWO dreams. That There is no wolf  is taken up by a publisher and that Daria Kudla will be commissioned to illustrate it.

And this has always been a favourite quotation of mine (by George Bernard Shaw):

“You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, 'Why not?'”

Why not?