A cure for Blue Monday

Today is, apparently, the most depressing day of the year. So says the BBC online news (with a witty idea from The Optimists Society), but there’s also an item on this phenomenon in last week’s New Scientist.

I didn’t need the media to tell me this. I was already feeling pretty fed up. The work I had scheduled to start this morning hasn’t turned up, the postie didn’t deliver the original copy of my mum’s Will (which I’ve been waiting for since Christmas), and a colleague cheerily told me she’d secured a job that I was also in the running for (though I knew I’d not done well at the interview). On top of all that, I’m tired out after a stressful weekend in Yorkshire sorting out my mum’s clothes (off to Oxfam with 3 bin bags later) and paperwork.

However, there are two reasons to be cheerful:

According to New Scientist's editorial, “being too happy can actually be bad for you, … leaving you unwilling to make the effort to change your life for the better”.

And in among my mum’s paperwork I found a little slip of paper on which my granddad (who died when my mum was just 14) had written one of his “Slick sales slogans!”

“A cup of tea, a snack, a chat.
You’ll feel better after that!”

Cup of tea and last Oreo in the biscuit barrel here I come…

Why I can no longer phone home

Welcome to the bereavement counsellor’s chair. That’s you in the chair, and me the bereaved … so if you’re not ready to be subsumed by my gloomy news, “look away now”.

My mother died of a sudden heart attack on Monday 8 December, at about 2:20 in the afternoon.

I had just returned from a very pleasant walk in the woods with my dog, and answered the phone expecting a work-related call, not my grief-stricken not-step-father saying my mum had collapsed while cleaning the windows and the paramedics could not revive her. For the record, she was only 64, and had only been retired from her very hectic publishing job for about six years.

Since the 8th, life has been a strange mixture of sadness, raucous laughter, not getting ready for Christmas, and mild panic and confusion, because I no longer have anyone special to phone to tell my news.

I live about 100 miles from my mum, and haven’t lived at home permanently since I went away to school, aged 11, in 1977. In all that time, we mostly spoke on the phone, or while we were driving around from one place to another – on work-related trips or the 50-minute ‘school run’ at the start and end of holidays and Sunday afternoon ‘tea visits’. We had a regular appointment, during my school days, whereby I would ring her on Sundays (after church, a daily ritual at my C of E boarding school) giving ‘three rings’ to let her know it was me, then redialing so she could pick up the receiver.

On the day after her death, Mr Ms_well and I drove up the M1 and back to do the grim things I now know you have to do, if you’re a next of kin. When we arrived home at about 10 minutes to midnight, we couldn’t sleep, and instead watched a DVD of Peter Kaye featuring his own personal take on the ‘three rings’. Are all northern mothers the same, then? I howled with laughter, and with sadness. My mum was a fan of Peter Kaye, and I was half tempted to have Is this the way to Amarillo? – the Tony Christie version, mind you – played at the funeral, because my mum loved it, and she used to live next door but one to TC.

Once I left school and had a phone of my own and, crucially, an answering machine, my mum’s catch-phrase of “It’s only me, I’ll phone you later”, became very familiar, and already, that’s the thing I miss the most.

So here I am, having gone through a thoroughly modern Yorkshire funeral – no punch-ups (that’s the old-fashioned way!), but emotionally charged by ex-husbands, bereaved partners, bereaved partner’s US-based son who’s a stranger to everyone at the wake, aunts and uncles who don’t speak to each other, and former bosses and their families who diplomatically fail to turn up, despite the 20+ years of devoted service given with only a pittance of a pension to show for it (which will only just cover the funeral expenses, but don’t be me started on that just now).

And now I’ve had three unexpected and unwelcome weeks off work, at a time when I’ve got a bulging order book and clients who are being extremely thoughtful through the gritted teeth of “when will you deliver that job?”

Back to work, then. As my dad wrote in my son’s remembrance book “Oh blah dee, oh blah dah, life goes on …”.

Who knows where the time goes?

Woman's Hour are currently talking about Sandy Denny and her role in the English folk music scene. They started the package by playing my all time number one favourite song in any genre ever* (hyperbole, moi?) 'Who knows where the time goes?'.

While Sandy's version is definitive, I don't care who sings it, I just love it.

The freelance writer/editor's anthem, perhaps? (as in, got to dash now, I've got to work on another project that's running late!)


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*And hey, I know a few, having been a singer of all sorts of music for >30 years.

Guilty, m'lord

Popular wisdom (aka the media in its various guises) suggests that those who are raised in the Catholic faith have a tendency towards all-encompassing feelings of guilt and an ongoing urge to confess their sins.

But I don't think they don't hold an exclusive licence to such feelings: guilt, regret, and an inexplicable tendency to start 95% of all emails with the words "I'm sorry* I haven't…" are issues for us non-denominational-girls too**.

Having spouted off in this blog about my fellow editors and their scrupulous/unscrupulous behaviour, I'm now dreading the fallout and wishing I'd kept shtum. Oh woe. (In fact, I've now gone back and edited that item, to avoid potential problems.)

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* Can't think where I picked up the habit, but I even tend to say "I'm sorry?" when I really mean "Pardon? What did you say?" It comes to something when I'm even apologising for my own lack of acuity… There's no hope, is there?

I worked in a pizza restaurant when I was a student and one customer had been a real pain. As he paid the bill he muttered something about the quality of the food/service. Wanting him to speak up a bit I said: "I'm sorry?" To which he swiftly replied: "So you should be!"

**[Also a tendency to over-use the word 'tendency'. Whoops.]

Unhealthy competition among copy-editors

I really should be getting on with something else, but this has worked me up into such a froth that I need to get it off my chest…[Edited 15/11/08]

I’m a member (Advanced member, in fact) of a worthy organisation which, among other things, aims to raise professional standards for Es and Ps.

A few weeks ago, I received a round-robin email from this organisation containing a paid-for advertisement from a potential client seeking writers/editors to put on a “preferred supplier” list. The client in question is one I’ve been intending to contact for several years, and so I was eager to fill in the tender documents and get on their list. I’m already on similar lists, and have worked for a number of similar clients and I do reckon I’m pretty well qualified for that particular work.

I didn’t hear back from them, despite asking them to email me to confirm receipt of my submission, but I put that to the back of my mind until yesterday afternoon, when they sent out a message to all tenderers saying something like “we’ve been inundated with applicants, so many that we’re going to need extra time to sift and therefore have had to put back the planned interview dates”.

On the face of it, that’s fine. But this has got me worried.

This client is not a publisher; their work is in a neatly defined industrial sector (can’t go into detail for obvious reasons); they are used to dealing with high-level government officials, business leaders and expensive PR companies.

I’m worried about who has taken part in this tender, the quality of their submissions, and most important, the prices they’ve quoted.

Why? Well, in the past I’ve gone through a similar exercise myself in order to sub-contract work during busy periods. I’ve sent out a round-robin email to fellow editors/proofreaders and received a flood of replies. Out of 20 or 30 applicants, only two or three were (on paper) suitably qualified; and in one case I gave the work to someone who really didn’t turn out to be as good as I’d hoped.

I strongly suspect that the same gang will have been part of the flood of tenders to this client*. This worries me for two reasons:

• They will probably seriously undercut my (reasonable) rates, making it look like editors work for tuppence ha’penny, (and that I’m taking the p*** with my ‘professional’ rate).
• It undervalues the society's stance of ‘raising standards’ etc., because Uncle Tom Cobley and All may have applied, regardless of whether they are really suitable for the job.

What to do? I’m tempted to raise the issue on the organisation's email newsgroup, but things have become rather fractious there lately and I don’t want to stir up a hornets nest when I’m busy. Instead, I think I’ll send a quiet note to the appropriate committee member and see what they have to say.

I can see that the editors' organisation was happy to accept the money to cover the cost of the advert, but they could have been a bit more sophisticated about sending it out. They do have a directory of members where we all list our specialisms/keywords. So they could, for instance, have done a quick trawl and only contacted people with relevant experience/skills.

All of the above sounds like I’m a bitter old bat clinging on to a stronghold of lucrative clients against young upstarts who might do a better, cheaper job than me. Erm… partly true! (Not the ‘old’ bit… well, I’m probably just about still in the ‘youth’ wing of the organisation.)

But I do wonder whether I’ve shot myself in the foot by talking to fellow editors very publicly (e.g. at conference, in the members’ journal) about what I do. Have I made it sound like a gravy train that’s worth catching?

I’ve always been slightly concerned about that, and have tried to prevent it. For instance, the NUJ lists details of hourly or daily rates paid particular clients. I’ve spoken out in favour of sharing ‘rates’, but against naming the clients, because I reckon there are some unscrupulous so and sos who’d deliberately undercut me.

And now I’m faced with the prospect that this may, rather publicly, happen. Hmm.

Interestingly, earlier this year I took part in a similar process for a different client. I successfully made it onto the list, and the client let all the list members know who’d ‘won’. I was the only member of this particularly organisation on the list.

Please don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting I have a god-given right to this particular work; just that I'm worried about (unfair) competition, which may only increase as the recession bites and more hopefuls respond to those dreadful ads for 'profreeders'.

Not a good start to the day! But now I’d better get on with the work I do have, before it gets whisked from under my feet…

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* I do know of one other person who’s involved who does have relevant experience.

Biscuits: the driving force behind the nation’s freelance writers/editors

Freelance writers and editors, working at home, need to demonstrate a significant level of willpower; so I’m pleased to learn that scientists have published evidence to suggest that sneaking a daily dip into the biscuit barrel could, contrary to expectations, give your willpower a much needed boost.

Although I criticised the concept of Psychologies magazine last week, I am still drawn to psychology-related articles in the more serious press. Last week, while belated flicking through back issues of New Scientist, I came across a piece that pretty neatly sums up the chemistry/biology behind that eternal freelances’ problem: procrastination. And, in a twist of logic that Psychologies would surely be proud of, here I go reinterpreting the hard science for my own journalistic purposes…

Resist! by Helen Phillips (New Scientist, 13 September 2008, pp40–43) reports on several studies into self-control and willpower. Few readers will be surprised to learn that some people are better at self-control than others, that female impulse control is linked to the menstrual cycle, and that there are links between IQ and the ability to avoid temptation.

More interesting, though, is the news that resisting temptation appears to be controlled by the frontal lobes of the brain (especially the right frontal lobe), and that the effort of self-control also taxes the areas of the brain responsible for ‘working memory’. (One conclusion the researchers draw from these results is that teenagers find it hard to control their impulses because their frontal lobes are still developing.)

On top of that, there’s evidence that exercising willpower is also a physiological process – i.e. it’s a process that needs energy.

Helen Phillips cites studies published in the journals Psychological Science, and Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, which suggest that self-control requires effort (energy) and, just as you can run out of energy when you’re pounding the treadmill at the gym, you can run of out self-control.

Part of the evidence for this comes from studying people’s heart rates while they’re being asked to resist temptation, which shows that there are peaks in energy use during temptation experiments. Another study (by Roy Baumeister at Florida State University) found that giving participants a sugary drink before their self-control was challenged improved their ability to resist temptation.

Ok, so here’s my spin on this news: eating a bicky or two before I set to work in the morning is actually good for me, because keeping up my blood sugar level boosts my self-control ‘muscle’.

A bit far fetched, perhaps? Not necessarily. One thing I’ve noticed since I turned freelance is that prioritisation (inextricably linked to resistance and self-control) is getting harder and harder. On the evidence of Phillips’ article, I now suspect my problem is caused by long-term depletion of willpower.

Ponder this for a moment:

Ten years ago the biggest drain on my self-control was the effort of getting out of bed, performing my daily ablutions and setting off for the office.

Fast forward a few years and my self-control was sorely tested by the arrival of a baby who needed me to think on his behalf (and I still do, 9 years on!), then later, along came the dog who had to be walked, fed and pampered, with rarely a day off from my responsibilities. (Not to mention all the other domestic chores, of which the most brain-taxing is invariably answering the question "What's for dinner?" )

These days I reckon I spend 90% of my time resisting doing the things I want to do, because I have so many other things that MUST BE DONE.

Having a deadline, therefore, is crucial. If, as now, I have work on the books, but nothing urgent, I can’t resist the temptation to blog instead of getting on with the paid-for stuff. And every day I’m also using up currency from my bank of self-control by “resisting” the temptation to tidy the house, put the rubbish out, stuff/unstuff the washing machine, prune my email inbox, write letters to friends I should’ve replied to in January…

It’s only biscuit power that’s helping me to resist all these exciting opportunities!!

One last thought before I really MUST get on with real work: one of Phillips’ interviewees strongly recommends writing detailed ‘to do’ lists as a way of giving yourself a leg-up to get over the procrastination fence:

“… Even something as simple as saying you will go to the gym at 5pm on a specific day is a more successful strategy than intending to exercise once a week. Planning can turn a difficult conscious decision into an unconscious habit, which makes the whole process faster and more efficient without depleting energy levels.”

So if you don’t hear from me for a while, it’s because I’m knee-deep in ‘to do’ spreadsheets.

Teaching to the test - an educational dilemma

OK, I give in. After a very unnerving experience at my local FE college last week, I’m prepared to go along with the knockers and tutters, and admit that “fings ain’t wot they used to be” in the world of education.

Every summer there’s a palaver when the GCSE and A-level results are published, over whether or not standards are slipping. On the one hand there are employers and universities having to provide catch-up courses in English and Maths because they claim that the youth of today aren’t making the grade; on the other the government praises the efforts of school children who are gaining higher scores in tests than ever before. I’ve tried really hard to swallow the government’s explanation (while acknowledging that - ever fearful of slipping down the league tables - schools simply don’t enter their pupils for tests they won’t pass). But last week’s experience has called all this into question for me.

What should have been a straightforward “interview” at my local FE college turned out to be a nightmarish 2-hour session at a computer screen in a library surrounded by ‘uncouf youfs’ doing their utmost to get up the nose of the poor librarian who was trying to monitor their on-line doings, viz. “I’m sure Jade Goody isn’t part of your coursework”.

I’ve applied to take a City & Guilds course called “Preparing to Teach in the Lifelong Learning Sector”, as a good way to get some feedback on my teaching style before I venture forth (again) to teach copy-editing skills. I filled in the various forms, and listed my qualifications (12 O-levels including Eng Lang (A) plus three other languages, 3 A-levels, a BA, and a Post-grad Diploma). I also got a good reference from a friend who’s been a teacher for many years. Then the college called me in for an interview.

This wasn’t a surprise; it said this was standard procedure in the prospectus. They also warned that literacy and numeracy tests were compulsory. [Why does Word’s spellchecker not like ‘numeracy’?]. But the format of the ‘interview’ was certainly unexpected.

About a dozen of us were huddled in a corner of the library while the course administrator ‘explained’ the course. Then we had to sit the tests, or should I say “take the Skills Base”. (Is that really what she said?)

This took the form of two ‘interactive’ tests, where the software behind the system gauges the level of questions according to previous answers.

That was rather disconcerting! I could tell I wasn’t doing as well as I’d expected when, in the literacy test, I suddenly hit a rash of “Is the following a complete sentence?” questions.

Well, I’m pretty darned sure I know a sentence when I see one; it was the wording of the question that bothered me. I’m sure they didn’t really mean ‘complete’ which, according to my shiny new Concise OED, means : “having all the necessary or appropriate parts; entire”. The examples given were ‘complete’ under that definition, but that’s not to say they didn’t need editorial input… However, there was no tick-box for that option, only ‘yes’ or ‘no’ were offered.

The numeracy test was slightly more straightforward. There’s no other option when you’re calculating the length of the hypotenuse.

Overall I passed (though not as well as I should have done), so I avoided the Little Britain “Computer says ‘nah’” moment. But pity the other course applicants who were struggling. Instead of each of us then being interviewed in privacy, the administrator got us all back together to check through our applications and answer any questions. This meant hanging around listening to other people’s private concerns before the humiliation of being told I’m working at “Level 2, but at Level 3 in some areas” – which is enough to get me on the course, but just goes to show that in the 20 years since I graduated, the education sector has changed a lot.

Principally I’ve learnt that they don’t seem to trust anyone’s ‘previous’. Everyone had to sit these tests, regardless of how many (or few) GCSEs or Doctorates they had.

I can only draw the conclusion that the skeptics are right after all – those stunning GCSE results and all those A* grades count for nothing if “computer says ‘nah’”.

Arriving home in a froth, I wasted time searching education websites and discovered that there are plenty of practice tests out there that I could have worked on to boost my score, dammit. So if you’re ever thinking of “improving your skills base” (!), avoid the humiliation of a less than perfect score by giving these a try first: readwriteplus or TDA practice materials.

It seems a sad fact of 21st century life – you really DO have to “teach to the test”.

Thought for the day: “We don’t need no education; we don’t need no thought control!”

Silly bankers - What the Dickens* is going on?

With the financial crisis worsening by the minute and HBOS the next big name bank to be facing meltdown, it's probably not the right time to tell the bankers to take an hour off and read a book.

But if they did have a few hours to spare (and let's face it, a fair few of them will in the coming months), what do we recommend they should read?

Forget the self-help manuals and the get-rich-quick tomes. Go for a bit of Dickens, I'd tell 'em:

Start with Martin Chuzzlewit; and if you've got half an ounce of empathy in that greed-addled brain of yours, you'll quickly see that the Big CD foresaw exactly the kind of crisis you've now got yourself into. Witness Martin and poor sop Mark Tapley off on a fool's errand to make their fortune in - of all things - the US real estate sector!

And witness Montague Tigg and his ne'er-do-well business partners as they fleece the populace with their Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life Assurance Company.

If that all sounds like heavy going (and it honestly isn't - it's excellent, entertaining stuff) then pop down to the library (yes, they do still exist, but only just) and borrow a GCSE-level history book, flick through the index for "South Sea Bubble" and "Tulip" … And maybe you'll finally get the message!

* Any editors out there may by now have realised that I deliberately used a cap D for Dickens.

Clash of the deadlines

aka "Not really the stuff of a Hollywood blockbuster**".

They're just like buses, aren't they, deadlines? Nothing happens for quite a while, then there's a sudden flurry and everyone wants everything done straight away. I'd bet money on the fact that this week is one of the worst of the year for that - what with everyone back off their holidays, and back into "getting things done" mode, especially with the Party Conference Season looming. The other hectic period, for me at least, tends to be around Easter time, when government-related projects (and many others too) all have to be finished and invoiced before the end of the year.

Annoying, really, as I've a great long list of juicy things to blog about, and no time to do it. Still, I need the money, so better get on with it…

**Note for film fans: just Googled "Clash of the Titans" (1981, stars Laurence Olivier et al; don't recall ever seeing it, actually!) and I see that someone's doing a remake: director Louis Leterrier. Hey, you read it here first! (Do you care?)

A lesson from Doris

I just caught the end of a major interview with Doris Lessing on today's Woman's Hour (Radio 4). The fragment I heard was fascinating - particularly how winning the Nobel Prize has affected her. But there was one comment that stuck out a mile:

"Being old is a way of life."

By which she meant, she's so busy taking herself from one hospital appointment to another that she doesn't have time for much else - certainly not writing!

Not the cheeriest of thoughts, but perhaps a useful incentive to get on with things while you have got the time…

… if only. I once heard a similarly (un)inspiring aphorism:

In youth, you have health and time, but no money
In middle age, you have health and money, but no time
In old age, you have time and money*, but no health.

*Whoever wrote this obviously wasn't a freelance editor living in the South East with a massive mortgage and son who hoovers up food as fast as I can shove it in the trolley.

Big Read (aka I nicked this from Dougalfish)

Spotted on Dougalfish's blog, and so hard to resist:

Big Read

The rules:

1) Bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) [Bracket] the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list on your own blog.

1. [The Lord of the Rings], JRR Tolkien
2. [Pride and Prejudice], Jane Austen
3. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman
4. [The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy], Douglas Adams
5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling
6. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
7. [Winnie the Pooh], AA Milne
8. Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell
9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis
10. [Jane Eyre], Charlotte Brontë
11. Catch-22, Joseph Heller
12. [Wuthering Heights], Emily Brontë
13. [Birdsong], Sebastian Faulks
14. [Rebecca], Daphne du Maurier
15. [The Catcher in the Rye], JD Salinger
16. [The Wind in the Willows], Kenneth Grahame
17. [Great Expectations], Charles Dickens
18. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres
20. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
21. [Gone with the Wind], Margaret Mitchell
22. Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowling
23. Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling
24. Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling
25. The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien
26. Tess Of The D'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
27. Middlemarch, George Eliot
28. A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving
29. The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck
30. [Alice's Adventures In Wonderland], Lewis Carroll
31. The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson
32. One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez
33. The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett
34. David Copperfield, Charles Dickens
35. Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
36. Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson
37. [A Town Like Alice], Nevil Shute
38. Persuasion, Jane Austen
39. Dune, Frank Herbert
40. Emma, Jane Austen
41. [Anne Of Green Gables], LM Montgomery
42. Watership Down, Richard Adams
43. The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald
44. The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas
45. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
46. Animal Farm, George Orwell
47. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
48. Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
49. Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle
50. The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher
51. The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett
52. Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck
53. The Stand, Stephen King
54. [Anna Karenina], Leo Tolstoy
55. A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth
56. The BFG, Roald Dahl
57. Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome
58. Black Beauty, Anna Sewell
59. Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer
60. Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
61. Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman
62. Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden
63. A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
64. The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough
65. Mort, Terry Pratchett
66. [The Magic Faraway Tree], Enid Blyton
67. The Magus, John Fowles
68. Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
69. Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett
70. Lord Of The Flies, William Golding
71. Perfume, Patrick Süskind
72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell
73. Night Watch, Terry Pratchett
74. Matilda, Roald Dahl
75. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
76. [The Secret History], Donna Tartt
77. The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins
78. Ulysses, James Joyce
79. Bleak House, Charles Dickens
80. Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson
81. The Twits, Roald Dahl
82. I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith
83. Holes, Louis Sachar
84. Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake
85. The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
86. Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson
87. Brave New World, Aldous Huxley
88. Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons
89. Magician, Raymond E Feist
90. On The Road, Jack Kerouac
91. The Godfather, Mario Puzo
92. The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel
93. The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett
94. The Alchemist, Paulo
95. Katherine, Anya Seton
96. Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer
97. Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez
98. Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson
99. The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot
100. Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie

53/100 - not quite as many as I thought I'd read. Odd.

Far too difficult to choose a favourite. I'd normally say Rebecca, but can't ignore Jane Eyre, Catcher in the Rye, Pride and Prej, Lord of the Rings, blah blah.

Am now even more aware that I haven't read a good book in ages. (Too much time wasted on blogging and such-like?)

If you wanna be a … [sing it] record breaker…

… Dedication's what you need.

Anyone born in the 60s will remember the classic 1970s kids TV show Record Breakers, hosted by the late Roy Castle (first-rate brass player; third-rate singer) and the highly irritating lyrics of the show's theme tune:

"If you wanna be the best
If you wanna beat the rest … …"

It didn't sink in at the time - more's the pity - that Roy was right: dedication IS what you need.

I've slumped on the sofa in awe for the last two weeks as Team GB has worked its magic in the Bird's Nest, the Water Cube, and the Laoshan Velodrome [of which more anon] and there's no doubt about the dedication on display. But there's also a fair dollop of borderline lunacy too. Who in their right mind would swim 10km in a slime-filled open water circuit with Russians pulling at your ankles? Bonkers.

But they are certainly dedicated; and it's fascinating. Why do some people have such determination while others give up at the first, second, or (if they're pushed a bit) third hurdle?

I read Paula Radcliffe's autobiography (My story so far) to try to find out, but I'm none the wiser (fascinating though it was; and eugh, those ice baths, brrrr). The blurb on the back of the book asks: "What has driven this 'quintessential girl next door' to achieve so much… ?" But we're never given a straight answer, other than a hint that it's something that's in her blood: "I don't remember a time in my life when I didn't run".

Clearly, Paula and I are poles apart. I can remember a day when I did run - just the one. It sticks out in my mind because, buoyed up by swanky new running shoes (to give me better support while walking the dog!) I tried to jog along one side (yup, just the one side) of the footy pitch in the field behind my house. I gave the dog a fright, and thought I was about to have a coronary!

I do envy the athletes their passion, though. They are totally and utterly dedicated to their goal. It must be devastating when they don't achieve it, but they just seem to pick themselves up and try again.

It has to be said, though, that they do have a great support network behind them, so maybe that's part of the key - you don't want to let your trainers/team-mates down.

For us lesser mortals, it's hard to keep up the momentum. Plodding on is as much as most of us can manage, with the occasional sprint when a work-related deadline's in view. I guess if I were hungrier, that might have a significant impact on my determination; but it's also partly to do with the goals I've chosen to give myself.

Passing Grade 4 piano is my goal for this year, and so far I'm pretty wide of the mark - not having touched the keys since the school holidays started. Only a week to go 'til my first lesson, and teacher will not be best pleased. But as he also has one eye on the fact that I'm a paying "customer" he won't be half as hard on me as the legendary Miss Watts was in my school days (rap on the knuckles with a ruler, anyone?). So if anyone's reading this, do me a favour and start nagging!