Showing posts with label debt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label debt. Show all posts

Monday, 30 June 2014

Women, Money and Debt in the 18th Century Novel, Part 2: ROXANA, Section 1



Roxana: The Culture of Trade – ‘Expert in it as any She-Merchant’

Section 1


Whenever you read the novels of the 18th century, you can’t help but be struck by extremes of optimism in terms of trade and finance in the characters shown, as well as marked personal avarice.  However, also shown is the sense of great desperation felt by the poverty stricken masses left out of the century’s economic boom cycles.  Sir Lewis Namier, historian, makes clear the feel of the age for most readers:

Every country and every age has dominant terms, which seem to obsess men’s thoughts.  Those of eighteenth century England were property contract, trade and profits.[1]

Roxana was published in 1724, and holds within it a captured sense of the emergent culture of individualism and linked financial acquisitiveness that became so ingrained and characteristic as the century progressed (and look at us now; very little has changed).  It addresses both the desperate decisions made by the poor alongside the dizzying greed of those who have risen.  As Roxana herself says, her reasons for accumulating wealth began due to the desperation of “Poverty, my Snare”[2], and then after she is rich became “an excess of Avarice and […] vanity” (p.202).

To generalise, Georgian England was responding to changes the century before that were prompting the growth of the market economy, which “successfully went forth and multiplied”[3].  From about 1700 till the mid century, individuals were still grasping at the new opportunities, and Daniel Defoe, in choosing to portray these economic changes, was uninterested in hiding the predatory nature capitalism had already assumed (which is so normalised these days we take it for granted…).  Bram Dijkstra points out that it isn’t until 19th century fiction that the naked greed and disregard for others that often accompanies getting rich was hidden behind new ideologies.  For example, women were again enclosed within “myths of sacrifice”, only allowed to be ‘saved’ from wrongdoing if they were (and remained) a victim of exploitation by another.[4]  He makes the (startling) point that Roxana’s individuality as a heroine and her mirroring of a “moment in history”, is that she turns the situation of exploitation around and charges for it.  She takes control (agency, in psychological terms) back from circumstance and from the patriarchy around her.[5]

In this 2 part examination of Roxana, I’m hoping to lay out how her entire fate is driven by her attitude to her finances – that they define and shape her sense of self.  Even moreso than Moll Flanders (what a woman, seriously!), Roxana is a book about acquisition.  About dealing with the world via the medium of money and goods attained.  (How male is she painted?!)  I’ll examine the various incidents and relationships in her life, showing the development of her attitudes to money – its not so much linear as its exponential: she greatly increases command of her finances and concomitant sense of personal power and control over her life and its circumstances.  For instance, she is attracted to her first husband (who turns out to be a useless character), partly because of his virtuosity as a dancer (p.7).  Yet later in the book she learns the real worth of social accomplishments such as these (what they can procure you, not  how they can fool you) – she dances for a King, and gains her name, status and vast financial reward as his mistress (p.176).  John Richetti comments that:

Her obvious irony is that social determinants produce a self that cannot manage to survive.  The story of [her] survival and prosperity lies in the acquisition, through economic necessity, of a natural [law, economic] perspective on social forms.[6]

From the very start of the novel, Roxana defines herself and her family in economic terms.  From the 2nd paragraph, she informs us of the fortunate state of her parents’ wealth in changing countries, from France to England.  She is already well aware of social forms.  She comments that her father’s goods were “selling very much to Advantage here, my Father was in very good Circumstance in his coming over” (p.5).  Her first concern, at every incident she relates is to tell the reader exactly how she is placed to deal with the situation in practical monetary terms. Her position, very early on in the narrative after her first marriage, is one of extreme material and emotional hardship.  It leaves her believing that she has only one thing left with which to barter to provide her with the means to sustenance: herself.  Her desperate need for material things only reinforces her belief in the importance of these material things. 

This is natural: when even the most basic things (food and shelter for yourself and your children) are going to be revoked due to your lack of ability to pay for them, it’s likely this position of acute powerlessness will not be forgotten.  It’ll be imprinted on the mind.  As Richetti comments, when Roxana is extremely wealthy (much later in the book), and is being plagued by another compulsion (that of hiding her past from her daughter Susan) – only the extremely rich can ignore the need for money and goods and deem them worthless or unimportant.  Ironically, by then, it’s Roxana who is demonstrating this attitude, due to her terrible remorse about Susan:

Her ultimate stunt as a unique individual is to gain the whole world and then declare it meaningless[…] that superficial alienation of stupendous wealth is a breathtaking if unbelievable act of egotism and privilege.[7]

Hmm.  He’s judgmental?!  To me that comment sounded not so much one of her ungratefulness culturally at her fortunate position as a person; but more one of ‘you succeeded in a Man’s world then rejected it; how dare you, Woman!’ – but that’s just how I read it…

It may seem ‘unbelievable’ that a woman almost entirely governed by her need for financial/material security would eventually see these things as valueless, but I’d say the most interesting thing about her as a character is that her feelings about what money does genuinely change – she learns.  She begins to think of her money as tainted (“my ill-got Wealth, the Product of prosperous Lust” [p.259]), and to consider whether her trade-offs have benefitted her as much as she had initially thought in her endless countings up:

Not all the Affluence of a plentiful Fortune; not a hundred Thousand Pounds Estate, […] not all the things we call Pleasure, cou’d give me any relish…(p.264)

She finally clashes with the other value systems that govern women: that of family and child-rearing responsibility.  They are precisely the values that had originally caused her to begin her career as a prostitute after desertion by her husband left her no other means to support her children.  This circularity can be illustrated in the text, through her involvements with men.

Critic Bram Dijkstra offers a schematic analysis of Roxana’s financial acumen by looking at her relationships with men, for example.  I have chosen to mirror Dikstra’s article structure for this section, as he shows useful developments in Roxana’s financial thinking.  However, there are many ways in which my opinions differ from his.  The most important of these is that he oversimplifies complex and competing ideologies; this is especially visible in his close analysis of the novel (we’ll get to that later).  He considerably underestimates the degree to which Roxana’s interest in the possibilities of capitalism is mixed up (especially later in the book) with emotional qualms, relationship qualms in particular.  The immense psychological cost she has to pay in the end outweighs her gains on the material level.  Other critics have noted the tensions between the ideologies driving Roxana, and how uneasily they sit within the narrative.  Richetti referred to the whole novel as “deeply problematical”[8].  Maximilian Novak has stated that Roxana’s narrative “reflects something close to despair”[9].  Roxana is torn between an altruistic sense of motherhood and her fervent need for material security personally – that these two dynamics clash and cause her to become a deeply fragmented and contradictory person is borne out by the narrative as it progresses.  Dijkstra chooses to ignore this tension, which leaves his arguments sounding clever but hollow.  I’ll show you my view as we progress.

Dijkstra makes a very good initial case for each liaison being a different stage of Roxana’s financial instruction.  The first feckless husband shows her behaviour to be avoided; though at this stage she is powerless in a business sense, both as a female and a wife: “I saw my Ruin hastening on, without any possible Way to prevent it” (p.11)[10].  Roxana’s husband ignored her good financial advice, of which all her suggested remedies for bad financial management are later endorsed by Defoe’s subsequent inclusion of them in The Compleat English Tradesman (1728)[11].

Her husband eventually deserts her, and as a middle class female trained for nothing, as Ian Bell points out, she is forced to make a choice leading her to vice.  This is because she sees herself as a “woman of quality, an image that does not vanish when her money does”[12].  She cannot reconcile her understanding of her status to her actual circumstances.  In the mercenary world, where attributes are assessed in terms of their usefulness or marketability, her genteel expectations and training fit her only for a life of deception and persistent fraud.  Her training has involved an upbringing where wealth and possessions have always been emphasized (recall the first page of her narrative, and her enumeration of her parents’ moveable treasure): she knows no other system of judgement for her life.  Security through goods is what she has always understood.  Stone makes clear that at this point in history, apart from marriage or becoming a servant or seamstress, prostitution is the only other profession open to women.  So its interesting to note Defoe’s respect and belief in women of business – a repect Dijkstra notes too.  James Thompson, however, notes that this support has its limitations.  Defoe’s enthusiasm goes only as far as married women managing their husband’s finances, or widows.  There are no career opportunities for single women: “a never married tradeswoman is a logical impossibility for Defoe”[13]. So, Roxana’s education saw she was fit for nothing but prostitution; but it is her quick brain that allows her to make such a resounding financial success of her ‘chosen’ career.

Dijkstra suggests that Roxana’s next liaison, with the landlord-jeweller (where she finds the necessity that turns her to trade), is an introduction to basic commerce.  He is an international merchant (not a drone tradesman as her first husband was), and thus represents a step up the financial ladder in terms of efficiency[14].  He makes an immediate mark on her consciousness by appearing and restoring, seamlessly and quickly, “the social order from which Roxana has fallen” – by paying the bills and tidying up the place with the help of gardeners, buying furniture, and procuring her a feast: “poor Amy and I had drunk nothing but Water for many weeks” (p.26).  By doing all these things for Roxana, he immediately places her under an obligation. 

A very important stage in Roxana’s growing psychological education occurs because of an incident in this liaison: that is, the deeply problematic event of Roxana “putting Amy to bed” with the landlord-jeweller, against her wishes.  Dijikstra has persuasively argued, and here I partially agree, that Roxana did this for pragmatic business reasons: “that my Maid should be a Whore too and not reproach me with it” (p.47).  So this is not merely a spiteful act, caused by Roxana’s wish to corrupt another because she has been corrupted, as critics like J.R. Hammond and John Richetti have suggested[15]; it is a sound emotional way to re-establish authority over Amy, a parity between them that was being lost by Amy’s increasing over familiarity and snideness, and would no doubt have worsened over time by Amy’s own sense of her sinlessness compared with her mistress.  Of course, nowadays, this whole scenario is brutal and criminal…take this as in its time, remember this story and the values it represents and depicts occur over 250 years ago.  To continue: Dijkstra points out that in The Compleat English Tradesman Defoe again and again emphasizes the need for strict control over servants and apprentices; and that therefore, for

Roxana to be an efficient businesswoman meant that she would have to be in firm control of her immediate environment, […] an efficient exploiter of others.[16]

There is no suggestion within the novel that this is anything other than an ‘immoral’ act.  But morals and business have rarely meshed successfully.[17]  Richetti asserts that not only has Roxana re-established discipline but she has triumphed over the “ideological positions [Amy and her landlord] represent”; as by Roxana’s bold and vile action, she causes both parties to “lose their respective claims on [her] as ideological masters”.[18]  The sense of the nakedly predatory nature of early capitalism is never made clearer than by the rape of Amy.  After that, balance is restored.

Hmm.  Whilst this explanation is slick and persuasive, it ignores a vital moment in the dehumanization of Roxana.  The cost to her as an individual, of this action, and the concomitant loss of identification with Amy is huge.  Amy is no longer her trusted ally, but her soiled stooge.  Roxana is only capable of cold cmfort over Amy’s misery over the rape, referred to only as ‘the bedding’:

[…]She was undone!  Undone!  And cry’d almost all Day; I did all I could to pacify her: A Whore! Says I, and am I not a Whore as well as you? […] Well, all did not pacify Amy, but she cry’d two or three days about it; but it wore off by degrees. (p.47)

Richetti notes that at this point Roxana “stands outside the consolations of any brand of Christianity”[19]; while G.A. Starr goes even further, suggesting that by this incident Defoe “means to consign Roxana to the devil”[20].  He argues that the bedding of Amy reveals “a hardness of heart” which suggests that “Defoe regarded his heroine as a damned soul”[21].

This nasty incident is certainly a foreshadowing of the almost schizophrenic behaviour Roxana gives in to towards the end of the book[22].  It shows openly, that she has made a decision between the relative merits of human relationships and her own need for material and psychological security and control.  To stop herself from being hurt – materially and emotionally – she must continue the process of psychological alienation and detachment she began when she took the decision to “whore for bread” (p.202).  She begins to render all human relationships “contractual”[23].  The landlord-jewller, knowing now where his interest really lays (he despises Amy after the bedding, as Roxana cleverly figured he would) draws up a contract of cohabitation for Roxana, complete with penalties for leaving: he “arranges his desire with social forms; he modifies social restrictions by counter arrangements of his own”.[24]  This method of relating to people is now a far cleaner and less emotionally wrought one for Roxana: she accepts the contract.

                                                ***
This is where we’ll darkly leave it for today, with Roxana having become a pimp of sorts…she has many more lessons and adventures in store, we’ll catch up with her the next segment.  She is a BRILLIANTLY readable and flawed character.  I hope you enjoyed reading this – more people should read Defoe, he had a lot of interest to say about the period through his characters – and his period, my god, really not that different to ours in many ways…


[1] Sir Lewis Namier, quoted in Roy Porter’s English Society in the Eighteenth Century (London: Penguin, 1991), p.185.
[2] Daniel Defoe, Roxana or the Fortunate Mistress (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998 this edn.), p.39.
[3] Porter, ibid.
[4] Bram Dijkstra, Defoe and Economics: The Fortunes of Roxana in the History of Interpretation (Basingstoke and London: Macmillan, 1987), p.23.
[5] Dijkstra, p.24.
[6] John Richetti, Defoe’s Narratives: Situations and Structures (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975), p.199.
[7] John Richetti, The English Novel in History, 1700-1780 (London and New York: Routledge, 1999), p.81
[8] Richetti, p.73.
[9] Maximilian E. Novak, Realism, Myth and History in Defoe’s Fiction (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983), p.101.
[10] In the 18th century, as Lawrence Stone makes clear, whilst a woman’s position in marriage was made slightly better by the increase of the provision made in her dowry (as in, she made a major improvement to her husband’s finances – an improvement on the century before), there was absolutely nothing to stop the husband wasting the money or making bad investments.  Lawrence Stone, The Family, Sex and Marriage in England 1500-1800 (London: Penguin, 1990, this edn.), p.221-2.
[11] Dijkstra, p.18.
[12] Ian A. Bell, Defoe’s Fiction (London and Sydney: Croom Helm, 1985), p.162.
[13] James Thompson, Models of Value: Eighteenth Century Political Economy and the Novel (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1996), p.121.
[14] Dijkstra, p.31.
[15] J.R. Hammond, A Defoe Companion (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1993), p.127; John J. Richetti, Daniel Defoe (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1987), p.109-10.
[16] Dijkstra, p.28.
[17] This was seen later in the century with Edmund Burke insisting that poverty wages for labourers were fine, as to interfere with the free market was to interfere with the “laws of God”, and that, to be frank, “great trade is always attended with great abuses”.  Frank O’Gorman, The Long Eighteenth Century: British Political and Social History, 1688-1832 (London: Arnold, 1997), p.271.  How little changes – how much stays the same…
[18] Richetti, Defoe’s Narratives, pp.208-209.
[19] Richetti, The English Novel in History, p.73.
[20] G.A. Starr, Defoe and Spiritual Autobiography (New York: Gordian Press, 1971), p.165.
[21] Starr, p.169.
                                                 Daniel Defoe, author of 'Roxana'
[22] Psychologically, her need to reduce Amy to her own ‘whore’ status, so she cannot be judged by her anymore, as well as get control over her by inducing Amy’s own sense of powerful shame, has been commented on by psychologist Christophe Scheel:

“the childhood schema of Roxana is running the show here: her own sense of defectiveness as a person, taught to her by her parents love of things over people and the lack of affection she received, leads her to begin viewing people as objects she can only understand by either having them admire her material position, feeding a sense of control over her situation and therefore outward self – or else they are to be reduced from the status of Judge over her (as she felt Amy was: she saw her as a Bad Mirror) by an act of humiliation: the Bedding.  She took Amy’s power over herself away – and could even judge her herself, after that incident.  Roxana resented Amy (imagining Amy’s thoughts about her were as bad as hers about herself – projective identification, rather than mere projection), and so belittled her in a manner both physical and psychological.  It was shrewd, it was cold: it was the act of someone terrified of losing a sense of self identification.  Roxana is very flawed, horribly human.”

– Personal correspondence with Christophe Scheel, Retired Psychodynamics Psychotherapist and Retired Lecturer in Eighteenth Century English Literature.  Quite a guy!!
[23] John Mullan, in his Introduction to the edition of Roxana used here, p. xx.
[24] Richetti, Defoe’s Narratives, p.206.

Tuesday, 21 February 2012

Update on Those Pesky Resolutions (with footnotes on 80's bonkbusting novels and an important feminist book!)

I thought it was time to have a quick look at those rather pesky resolutions I instituted at the tail end of 2011, when in the grips of euphoric optimism.  It’s strange, but a whiff of any change nearby or soon to come and I feel a sense of such spaciousness in my thinking, that I feel my possibilities are greatly enlarged.  Life seems to be offering so much more; or I am suddenly feeling capable of actually grasping more – that’s more likely it.  I get out of my own way[1].

And then the New Year actually starts, and I am as crowded in the head as usual, and my attempts to make change are either stymied, or deeply compromised.  Partly by myself and my way of looking at things; partly by sheer time constraints.  And money.  Those are the Big Three of my Downfall (to be dramatic about it, as you know I do like to be!)

So, I’m going to flick through those ideas I had, and see how far I actually got with them, so far – never forgetting the year is a work in progress.  The bits I said before will be in bold, then my recoup on them.

I will spend less out, pay off more of loans and debts, and actually start to save (no matter how hard this seems).  This is going to plan – except its not working!  Isn’t that the funniest statement?!  I am saving – so far got £36  (a pound here and a pound there) in a small building society Christmas Account (i.e. I CAN’T touch it all year, until 1st December, or I disturb the small interest).  This suits me well – it’s separate form the rest of my banking which is all lumped together, and I have to set money aside separately for that.  THAT is working.  The other 2 savings accounts I set up, with my existing bank are not going so well at all.  I set up one for Family Birthdays (for presents), and one for Treats and Learning (i.e. books I can’t resist, and anything educational I see).  The problem is…that everything really does still seem to be going up in price (electricity, gas, food, the rent, this year – to name only the ones that have bugged me most obviously so far…) so that the Housekeeping money Stanley gives me is staying the same, and not coping.  And his pay hasn’t risen, so he can’t afford to give me any more.  As it is, we never go out, even for coffee, let alone lunch, anymore…no cinema (I get taken by Fry who pays out of his dole money, once every 2 months if he can afford it).  There’s no outings or expeditions of any kind: it’s just rent, travel, food, Fluffhead stuffs.  That’s it.  And what we have is barely scraping by.  So I keep dipping into what I have saved.  Any part time work I look into is, so far, either the wrong hours (i.e. no babysitting available), or so poorly paid it really would make very little difference when you consider how tired I’d be after and how this would impact on taking care of the Perennial Fluffhead.  And the Rob Peter To Pay Paul continues – I pay off the credit card minimum each month and a bit extra – but the bit extra is always deeply necessary again by the week before payday, for basic groceries…So!  Doom! Doom! DOOM!  On that resolution – so far.  You can only scrape the butter so thin before you really are just eating dry toast, you know?  But onto the next thing, to see if I’m doing any better…

I have this vague poorly thought out Master Plan idea of being the Queen of Bargains, Coupons and Discounts next year.  Now, this is going rather better.  I am being eagle-eyed and very awake indeed where this is concerned.  I am paying attention to all ‘3 for 2’s and seeing if its things I actually would use/do use – and more importantly, can I actually afford the outlay of extra ones right that minute.  The annoying thing about this, is that sometimes I can’t.  But I comfort myself with the fact that I am at least trying my best here – I am weighing up all the options.  I have so far saved, I calculated yesterday (with the aid of a calculator, and no doubt my tongue out the corner of my mouth, as I am nothing if not crap at maths), a grand total of £52 since 1st January!  That is Not Bad At All.  When you are busy taking advantage of offers (with always the proviso that they ARE things you actually need) you often lose sight of the receipts and what you actually save.  I was so encouraged by this totting up I did, I will carry on doing it, I think.  It included all these funny little Boots receipts where you get extra points on their advantage card for spending , say, £10 on vitamins or toiletries, and then me using those points to buy Fluffhead’s growing up milk, nappies etc (which was then a saving, as Boots points are 1 point = 1p, so that 100 points is literally a free £1.  It included all the Tesco and Waitrose offers where I got a discount or a free extra something, or the usual 3 for 2.  It included looking at the packaging of things and then giving limited details to a website (ticking the ‘no offers from 3rd parties’ section – always look for that) and being sent a coupon that then got me a whole or partially free thing I needed (and because Googlemail has a very good spam filter, then not being bothered by the subsequent email crap sent through, unless I chose to be).  So satisfactory progress there, I report!

Also, a Charity Shop Queen next year.  Now, I will say this one is also going very well indeed; but it’s very frustrating.  After that at length moan I had about the Charity Shops back in Paddington, I have to say that the ones here are the most helpful and cheerful places.  The prices are so LOW at the moment, that if I had sufficient money I could BoHo my entire wardrobe and have it busting with good quality and unusual colourful things for about £150, at the moment.  That’s why I’m frustrated.  I keep trying to get my books in there (and the library – where I am true to my word – they now know my name and regularly take the £1.10 fee for having reserved and sourced my loan books from elsewhere; I’m in there about 3 times a week).  You know, the books I feel I MUST buy, because I will want to re-read them, or refer to them again.  I have a very stringent book policy at the moment: Layer 1 – try and read what you have.  Ehem.  And then, layer 2 – for all popular books I might want to read, get or reserve at the library before thinking of buying.  Layer 3 – get at a charity shop if will need to re-read, as said.  I only get things from Amazon (who I am convinced, I have single-handedly saved from the pitfalls of the recession for many years now – why don’t I have a plaque or something, somewhere; a medal, praising me for supporting business?), or other online or high street shops, if they are unavailable at library or charity shops (like so many of the magic books, sewing books, history books and oddly, biographies and old blockbusting novels from the eighties[2], that I tend to read).  This means that I have spent on Amazon, so far this year £12 only (and £5 of that was a gift voucher left over from Christmas).  This IS hurting, I have to say.  My appetite for books is rapacious.  Unlike my father, who also had a bone deep need for books – he used to like to collect them and admire them and look at them.  He was always reading something, but he had thousands of books that never quite got his ‘needing a bookmark’ attention.  I always say: books call to me to be bought; then they have to call again to be read – the gap between can be years.  But they will get read.  And if they haven’t called after 5 years, they get sold on; or given away.  As do all the ones I won’t re-read.  Hence my Amazon sales.  Which are also doing ok, especially for this time of year and economic downturn.  (But since the entire profits are going into propping up the Housekeeping money, rather than buying me a life, or some more books [!!!], or paying off the credit card, it all feels a bit circular and counter productive.  But I’m not moaning about it!!  I moan about plenty, but not this.  I just wish things were ‘easier, less of a constant one step forward two steps back struggle’ as Stanley said the other day, after listening to me moan for a champion one solid hour.  His poor face at the end.) 

I want to rehabilitate my sewing machine.  And get my needles and threads out.  As I can’t really afford any news clothes (of any kind from anywhere) currently, I am getting lurid dreams when I lay in bed at night, of cannibalising my old clothes. Yes, well.  Due to one thing and another, I have had 4 days less where I could have had a couple of hours babysitting, since January, so I’m running behind.  And the prioritising goes like this: write, read, housework, nap, sew – when I get any spare time at all.  So what I have accomplished here is the readying of 5 separate cannibalisation projects: you know, as I said, tops with sleeves too short and bottoms too short are going to be lengthened in both these areas with complimentary coloured other tops.  My sewing machine still gathers dust.  Troubadour recently reunited me with most of my patterns, by large parcel post, so that the trickier jobs I can now refer to a pattern to make sure I cut right.  But I have yet to make time for it.  Which is difficult, as writing and reading are sedentary, and while sewing is too, it’s a different kind of creating – it’s more physical.  I do need to make time for this kind of variety; and for the feeling of satisfaction I would get.  If only I didn’t crave to read and write as I do.  It’s definitely like food.  I NEED to do both, regularly.  So sewing is at present languishing.

Spirituality.  I read a lot of it.  I do think on it.  I do rituals here and there.  I say to myself that my life is too full of Fluffhead and Stanley and Saint Mum and Fry and reading books and replying very late to emails from friends and trying to write stories and DOING THIS (which does take about 2 or 3 hours a time then more to add links if I am going to, and check for typos etc etc etc), to actually be properly organised about it.  Then I go around, complaining to myself that I don’t FEEL very connected to the earth, to my own Best Me, and to that intangible whatsity thing I have a notion I have felt before several times, and experienced another several, the effects of.  I need to plan things to do, regularly.  Mmmmmmmm.  Never a truer word.  Did you notice how in that priorities list above, I didn’t mention meditating, or doing altar work, or even reading spirituality?  I’m not doing very well here either, so I am still suffering exactly the same problems as I listed above there.  I still have ideas for what to plan, but my tiny little time spots get eaten by reading, writing and housework.  And exhaustion from the constant noise that comes with a Fluffhead.  The other sillier thing to note here is: I need to meditate to calm down.  Yet I feel I need to be calmed down in order to meditate successfully.  Otherwise I am just crossly (not at all unattachedly) listening to myself think thoughts, endlessly.  It’s a battle – when I know I am sposed to be just regarding each though kindly, patting it on the head and sending it on its way, like leaves floating off down an autumn stream.  Just 5 minutes – I tell myself.  And almost without exception, find myself falling asleep while sitting up, which then proves very restful indeed!  I persist, I persist.  But so far…very little joy here.  And this is due to my own lack of prioritising.  I think I feel that reading and writing propel me into another state of mind and another world, with utmost quickness and immediacy.  With my time problem, this is vital.  Taking the time to mellow into a meaningful and not just ‘going through the motions till the next thing’ spiritual practice is hard for me.  I’ll get back to you.  I’m not giving up.

I have this awful sensation of TIME’S AWASTIN’ all the time!  I find it really difficult to do nothing and just meditate, or rest.   This is a new thing, since the birth of Fluffhead.  Since I did that at late 30s, and am now 40, I have this terrible feeling of hurtling toward the Rest Of My Life, which I feel will be shorter than the bit I just did.  So that this problem still exists too.  Even when I have some time off – and my goodness, IT FLIES by, which terrifies me, making my intervals of Me Time feel seconds long; compared to the rest of my ‘shifts’ which are from the instant I get up to the instant I sleep and beyond, as Fluffhead and I wake in the night several times…Time too, is still a constant problem.  I will here mention that the creativity coach and general psychological thinker, Eric Maisel, has done some very interesting work on the problem some of us have with time.  In the Van Gogh Blues, he specifically did a chapter on this.  The horrible ‘time’s getting away, and what the hell am I doing with it?’ feeling.  He made an interesting suggestion that a lot of depressions and anxieties around this subject are the result of a loss of personal meaning in your life, which you need to recreate for yourself, daily, moment by moment, and to keep reminding yourself of.  The only way to avoid this feeling of being stuck in futility is to create your own meaning that encompasses what you do with the time you do have – the boring bits and the good bits.  I find this idea comforting and helpful – though I must say, my meaning slippage is daily, and I am never quite satisfied (as yet) with those I have created…I further mention this as he is going to do a guest post here, in April (fingers crossed, in case all goes arse over tit – he’s agreed so far).  So be excited, and interested etc.

So the routine next year will be Iyengar yoga (to add to the Hatha yoga I’ve done for a few years with varying regularity), some pilates and other stretching, and some basic beginner cardiovascular bounce about in the living room stuffs – as I am so unfit since Fluffhead.  Oh the ignominious failure of it!!  Yes, I am still overly curvaceous, and as you will note (sigh) I didn’t prioritise this on my list of what to do with a spare 10 minutes, either, did I?!  There is the fact I keep moving while hanging out with Fluffhead, for an hour at a time, just skipping about, or doing lunges (yes, look through my living room window and laugh), or basic aerobics steps.  Every day.  I time how long I am able to keep doing it before I have to sit down and help with the numbers board or the block stacking, or reading to him…And the daily walks down the hill to town and back again are unchanged.  Because the town is tiny, there isn’t far too go before you hit another hill, and if you think I am going to spend all day toiling up and down hills with Fluffhead in his tank-like pushchair and 4 pints of milk and assorted tins under in the basket…you are mistaking me for my friend Alias Indie, who regularly does Iron Man events for charity, and is the very vision of slenderliness…and she smokes 20 a day, and has exceptional taste in books and film.  What a woman!  She’s most excellent.

Ahhh….on this note of abject stinking failure I will slink away.  No summary of thoughts, to tell you that there is a moral to all this.  Only to say, hopefully, well – it’s only February, hey?  I still have time!  Change is always possible, and I didn’t fail at all these goals so far, and any of them can be modified.  Except I like them as they are, I just think I need more time.  (That is my current thinking anyway.)

No…my only and last word will be…Tomorrow will be the first ever guest post, by my Damn Good Friend and Floppy Haired Nonsense Angel, Mr.  Frank Key, of the legendary Hooting Yard.  I’m not going to link it today as I don’t want you nipping off there and seeing the exact post he said I could borrow, as he only wrote it yesterday!  Besides which, ehem, it’s on the Blogroll.  But anyway – do look forward to this, as I have selected one of his best Rhapsodies on the Improbable for you.  It made me laugh out loud, and you need to read it to brighten your day. 

No!  That’ll be my last word: there’s no such thing as Failure (with New Year’s Resolutions at any rate), there’s only Success As Yet Improbably Disguised!  On that thought of little dubious close scrutiny, I go.


[1] Alias Troubadour used to be very fond of saying, about my downer moods and phases: just because you hold up your hands and cover your eyes, or hold something up and place it between you and the sun, doesn’t mean the light isn’t still there, shining as strong as ever.  You just can’t see it, and have to take down the obstruction.  Yourself.  One of many rather good things Troubadour was wont to come out with.  (Of course, in a downery mood, it’s as useless as collecting salt in a sieve.  You aren’t at that point capable of seeing HOW to take down the obstruction; the basic logic of the idea is therefore lost on you.)

[2] Blockbusting novels from the ‘80s, hmmm…after honey, that nectar of the Gods, my next obsession this year (I am nothing if not relentlessly obsessive – I think its to do with being unable to cope with the Real World as I find it, and retreating into a Big Study of something or other, that keeps me then, relatively free from anxiety…or…you could just say I get faddy and study something to death, suck it dry, have some info in my head, and then move on to the next thing that catches my attention; without the psycho-babble, and with me a less sad seeming person.  Merely an Information Craving Person.)  Anywaaaaaaaaaaaaaay…I am knee deep in the oeuvre’s of Judith Krantz (‘Princess Daisy’ et al), Pamela Townley (little known English bonkbuster writer of same period, more famous for marrying one of the Hawkwind lads; my personal favourite being ‘Rogan’s Moor’: she's underrated!), Shirley Conran (yes, ‘Lace’, of course), Barbara Taylor Bradford (‘A Woman of Substance’ and lord knows how many more, tons!) and June Flaum Singer (‘The Debutantes’ as well as many others – she is the cruellest author of the lot, though beguiling and moreish; and oddly unlinked on the net).  It’s interesting, as this odd obsession – of re-creating my 14th year in terms of beach reading at Westgate, Littlehampton and Margate on the annueal family holiday to The Seaside started just after I read some Truly Scary and Very Depressing and Yet Full of Fight feminism – the brilliant and important Living Dolls, by Natasha WalterREAD IT!  It’s about men too, and not in a cross way.  It’s about humanity and how we are all treating each other.  Foremost – it’s about Choice: and how some choices are being fed to women as free when they are anything but.  A choice is only a choice if you genuinely are placed between at least 2 and preferably more options, and that one of them is not tipped ludicrously at you, forced like a stage magicians card trick.  And the other options then made to seem futile and isolationist…or even not mentioned to you at all.  It’s also about the worrying trend of Biological Determinism sweeping through our society today, with regard to gender roles.  Backed up by some VERY poor scientific method – by those respected as much as say, Steven Pinker.  It’s shocking and very worrying.  So I think my brain went on a severe hibernation holiday in order to process all this new info, and retreated to a place where I previously had more choice: that is – when I was growing up, all seemed possible, and all was before me; I wasn’t yet in my life, I was still regarding what might be made of it.  And oddly enough – we remember all these blockbusting 500 page doorstop novels with affectionate disdain now, 20-30 years later..but there’s plenty female self determination in those too.  It’s just (annoyingly) muddied by a constant reference to the beauty of the heroines, and a lot of what happens to them is predicated on that – the commodification of the women is relentless in these books as a result…but, especially in the case of Judith Krantz, she comments on it all the time, within the stories.  It’s a puzzle…they knew what was going on, they played on it and with it…Though I have to say: the feeling I get at the end of zipping through each one, is one of overwhelming Go Getting Optimism, if tempered by the knowledge I will not at anytime soon be a Russian Princess, or starting my own modelling agency, or crossly asking a lot of guilty looking men I took an entire book to get in one room, ‘which one of you bastards is my father?’  I doubt there’s much high drama for me, in the immediate future at any rate.)