Customer Care?

It seems I've now finished my NVQ Level 3 in Customer Care.  I write "seems" as no-one from the college has told me this in person.  I received the news second-hand, albeit from a reliable source.  I arrived at work this morning, on my day off, to meet my new tutor at 9am as arranged, only to learn she'd already left.  She'd arrived at 8.45am and stayed all of two minutes, so I was told, and she briefly informed a colleague who has been taking a similar NVQ that we'd both now completed the course. 

 

So what happens next?  Apparently my ring-binder containing all my course work will be set before an assessor for evaluation.  Whether the college keeps it or if I get it back at some point has not been explained.  I only learned this much from someone who has done an NVQ before.

 

Will a certificate arrive at some point?  I have no idea as, again, no-one from the college bothered to inform me.  This comes after two months of silence from the college following the original tutor's resignation.  Phone messages and emails from my colleague and myself were not responded to.  We only made some progress after I managed to chat to a man who works for the government body which funds the college's NVQ courses, who said he'd lodge a complaint on behalf of my colleague and myself. 

 

My colleague also managed to collar another of the same college's tutor/assessors, who I later spoke to in person after she arranged to "observe" us in our professional roles, and who told me she'd also complained to the college director as it was crazy to leave two students, both of whom had almost completed the course, in limbo for so long.

 

The irony of this being a customer care course is not lost on me! 

 

 

 

Wanted: Beta Readers for a short Childrens' Book.

Emily & Poppi playing King of the Castle Cushion.

 

 

This is the last day of my week's annual leave so I'll be making the most of the sunshine as soon as I've typed this, and will get some more gardening done.  I've cleared two borders of weeds and planted three small rosemary shrubs and a broom which I'd grown from cuttings.  There's plenty more work to be done, of course, but that's the nature of all gardens.

 

This week I've written the first draft of The Grumpets, which could be described as a small book for small children of all ages.  This is the first childrens' story I've ever written.  I never intended to write for children, but then I had this crazy idea about little creatures called Grumpets...  I have no idea how children or adults will react to it; I've not even shared it at Riverside Writers yet.  The idea had been tacked to the wall next to my PC for at least six months, so this week I decided to take a break from writing the first draft of Fabian and play with this new idea instead - and the result comes in at 3,800 words, which is enough for a stand-alone ebook. 

 

The Grumpets is a book in miniature, having five chapters and a distinct start, adventure/crisis and resolution.  It's designed so it could be read by a parent to (or with) a child, each chapter taking around under ten minutes to read aloud.  Obviously I'll tweak it a bit before releasing it - but I could do with a handful of volunteers to read it to their kids then share feedback of the reactions.  I guess it would appeal mostly to those aged between 3 and 7, but in all truth I know absolutely nothing about children so I could be wrong.  If you're interested in volunteering, email me.

 

Just before taking a week's leave, I finished a job-related NCFE course run by Bradford College.  Also, I'm still waiting to finish my NVQ Level 3 in Customer Care as my tutor resigned, and even though I've completed around 98% of the course I'm still waiting, two months later, for a replacement tutor.  I anticipate getting it finished and out of the way ASAP.

 

Richard and I have been swimming again!  Even though we've only been doing this for a very short time, we're already getting our confidence in the water back.  It's a case of remembering skills long-unused, such as how to co-ordinate limbs, how to breath, how to dodge pests who paddle with their kids in the swimming lanes rather than in the paddle area.... 

Making a Splash

Today I did something which I've not done for thirty years or more.  As I'd expected, I was spectacularly out of practise but it was definitely fun and I have every intention of repeating the experience.  Richard joined in, too, which made it even more fun.

I'm talking about swimming, of course.  When I was a child, our family group swam on most Sundays.  We had a circuit of different pools which we'd go to - Warrington Baths was a favourite, though it has since been demolished, as has Leigh Baths which we also used.

Dad would never swim; he hated the very idea, and the most I ever recall him doing was paddling in ankle-deep sea water in Cornwall, his trousers rolled up to his knees.  Mum loved swimming.  One time, she decided to try doing the butterfly stroke.  At least, that's what she insisted it was after the lifeguard's whistle had emptied the pool and she'd been rescued.  How was he to know that the plumes of frantic splashing erupting either side of a bobbing-up-and-down purple-clad posterior did not signify immanent death?  Hazel and I were watching from on the edge of the pool, helpless with laughter.

 Eric loved to swim, too.  An ex-Navy man, he later joined a diving group which used to head to Trearddur Bay in Anglesey two or three times a year.  Evelyn enjoyed swimming, too, and joined us more often than Eric did, as he spent much of his time flying radio-controlled model planes at Burtonwood Airfield or on Rivington Pike.

Hazel nearly drowned me, once.  She was practicing her new skills in life-saving and forgot that when you tow someone behind you, holding them by chin, you have to make sure that their head is above water so they can breathe.  It's mandatory for staying alive.  And then, at an earlier time, I nearly drowned myself when Hazel was demonstrating to all of us how she'd been learning to walk off the edge of a pool as if she'd accidentally fallen into a river.  Perhaps this had something to do with her Duke of Edinburgh Award activities?  I forget now.  Anyway, no-one could do it without instinctively turning the "walk off" into a shallow dive.  So I showed them how it was done.  Unfortunately I hadn't yet learned how to swim despite umpteen having taken paid-for lessons, and I was in the deep end in Warrington Bath's Gala Pool.  My family were perched on the pool steps, asking each other where I'd gone.  Then I came spluttering to the surface, laughing and coughing at the same time.  I gave up on the lessons after that, and learned how to survive sinking my on my own.

Anyway, the weekly swims gradually dropped off due to work or college pressures.  Then our parents got more into caravanning and others moved on with their lives too, and so swimming became a thing of the past.

Anyway, a week ago I was on my way home from work when I walked past the swimming pool and thought, "Well, why not?"  So, after a quick rummage through eBay I bought a costume for me and trunks for Richard.  He gave that, 'Oh, hell, here we go' smirky-grin which most husbands summon when presented with their wife's latest idea but, nonetheless, he was first out of the changing cubicle at the pool.

Would I even remember how to swim?  I told colleagues at work that if they never saw me again it'd be because I had drowned.  Well, not only did I not drown but my body somehow remembered how to swim.  The bad news is that it couldn't swim very far.  I managed to swim all of three-quarters of a length before having to reach for the pool side.  Is that lame or what?!! 

Richard managed a whole length before gasping to a halt, so he did a bit better.  At least we could laugh about it!  We were in the pool, swimming up and down and gasping a bit (ok, a lot) until we knew it was time to stop.  Emotionally we wanted to do more but logic overrode this as Richard was starting to get cramp in one leg.

So, fun was had!  I intend to make swimming a regular part of my weekly routine.

Writing and Walkies!

Emily and Poppi inspecting this morning's snow.

 

 

It was not my intention to photograph my dog's derriere, however this is the best of this morning's three quick snapshots.  Two seconds later, both dogs had sprinted back inside having already had quite enough of cold paws thank you very much.

 

I've been busy finishing off several projects, including an NVQ Level 3 in Customer Care which is now 98% complete.  It would have been finished entirely if my tutor hadn't resigned last week, which means I now have to wait for another to be employed by the college.  I'm not best pleased, as I'd like to have the course over and done with, but these things happen.  I've also been doing another job-related course, which is now two-thirds complete.

 

On the writing front, I'm currently working on a piece destined for Riverside Writers' forthcoming anthology of short stories and poetry set in a fictional apartment block in Liverpool city centre's trendy Ropewalks quarter.  Submission guidelines, if you're interested in participating, can be found here. 

 

The first draft of Fabian is almost at the half-way mark, and I'm hoping to get this finished by the end of this year if not sooner.  Obviously the novel won't be available until 2014 sometime, once it's undergone umpteen edits and tweaks galore, but this is the way of all first drafts! 

 

Meanwhile, sales of the other Artisan-Sorcerer books are ticking away steadily.  I've been selling far more with Barnes & Noble and Sony than I have with Amazon, though I've no idea why. 

 

Anyway, all work and no play...  And so last Saturday, hubby took a day off from the studio and we enjoyed a pleasant day out in Chester.  We both wanted new clothes.  We ended up with new walking boots and undies but, hey, it's a start.  Why are so many women's blouses totally see-through?  Or have necklines so low that, being 5' 1.5" tall, I'd have to wear another top underneath?  I wanted items which could be worn at work, and as my place of work has the heating on full blast right through the summer, even during a heatwave, wearing layers means you're way too hot for comfort. 

 

 

The boardwalk on West Kirby beach, leading to Hoylake.

 

On Sunday, we walked a circuitous route along the boardwalk which runs from the sand dunes on West Kirby beach, over marshy ponds where tall yellow reeds provide a home to countless birds, and over to Red Rocks at Hoylake where we sat down for five minutes while the dogs investigated rock pools.  From there we walked along Stanley Road to the King's Gap, then passed the dairy farm on Newhall Lane, which becomes a public footpath between fields until it passes the entrance into Gilroy Nature Park and the exit onto Gilroy Road - and from there, to home.

 

 

After the walk, the only solution...!





Writers' Event, Wirral

If you're wondering why the ticket, pictured above, calls last night's event at Bebington Library "Valentine Stories" even though it's nearly a month late, it's because the original booking was delayed, apparently. 

The event brought together members of four of Wirral's writing groups:  Riverside Writers, Wirral Writers, 3Ls and Ace of Scribes, (who don't seem to have a website).

Once the good-sized audience had settled down with glasses of red or white wine, or orange juice, and a plate offering sliced Swiss roll and little sponge cakes had done the rounds, the readings began - and the next two hours were filled by a diverse and interesting collection of stories and poetry.

Fellow members of Riverside Writers, Tim Hulme and Peter Hurd, both read stories.  Tim's also a member of the 3Ls, so he already knew many of the people there. 

My contribution to the evening was Sally, a 1,000 word urban fantasy/comtemporary fiction piece which looks at human relationships, choices made and roads not taken.  I've ear-marked this story for my next short story collection, Dark Waters, which follows on from Dark Tides. 

Self-Publishing Comics and Graphic Novels

You may be interested to hear about a new avenue for self-publishing, this time for comics and graphic novels. 

A company called comiXology invite people to submit their work for consideration - probably so the company can maintain good standards of art work and scripts.  Their FAQs state the submission process is free, and accepted works are paid 50% of the net profit on each sale, once a $100 threshold has been reached, (which is similar to Amazon's threshold).  Authors/creators retain their copyrights, so they can sell their work elsewhere also.

Considering that, in the past, selling self-published comics and graphic novels tended to be limited to friends, comic expos (if you could afford a table!) or a bit of shelf space in a willing local shop, then comiXology sounds like a great opportunity for those whose art folios are already bursting at the seams with largely unseen work.

Literary Evening at Bebington Library

On Thursday 7th (tomorrow), I'll be amongst a group of writers who'll be reading some of their work to an audience at Bebington Library, Wirral.  Two other members of Riverside Writers, Tim Hulme and Peter Hurd, will also be taking part but I have no further details about who else might be.

If I'm not mistaken, the event has been organised by the 3Ls.  I think the event starts at 7.30pm, and I have no idea if there's an entry fee. 

My apologies for the rather vague information, but it's all I have!

Deadly Trees and Compost

Blackbird hunting for worms

 

 

This afternoon I tackled the half-moon shaped flowerbed located beside the entrance to the grove.  It was badly overgrown, so the first job was to remove the dry remnants of assorted wildflowers and the rapidly-growing spring weeds.  Before any ardent conservationist throws a wobbly, I'll point out that all the wildfowers came from commercial packets of seeds, and last year's seeds have already either done their own thing or are sitting in a shallow dish on the kitchen window sill.

 

Meawhile, nearby, Richard was wrestling with the sawn-down stump of a Robinia pseudoacacia, a lovely tree whose oval leaves turn an attractive golden colour in autumn.  Unfortunately it also has thorns the size of rhino horns, and we were fed up of being lacerated each time we mowed the lawn.  We had tried pruning it back hard for several years with mixed success and much spillage of blood. Verdict:  a gorgeous tree, in the wrong place. 

 

So I rescued the snowdrops and two small clumps of self-seeded chamomile, and set these to one side.  Then I lifted off one of our two cone-shaped recycled rubber compost bins and spread a very generous layer of fresh compost over the half-moon flower bed before replanting the snowdrops and chamomile.

 

Meanwhile, the air around the tree stump was turning somewhat blue as Richard admitted defeat.  I suggested we had a choice between hiring a small digger, or ringing the bark so it won't grow and fixing a bird table on top of it - which is a lot easier!  Guess which we're going for.

 

So now we're back indoors, enjoying a cup of Twinings lemon and ginger tea.  I looked up from the kitchen window and already a blackbird had come to forage in the freshly-composted flower bed. 

 



Changing Role of Libraries

Apparently, the New York Public Library has spent $1million USD on ebooks and is planning a major re-design of the old building which will create large, airy spaces, a cafe, and remove old and hardly-used books to stacks in the basement.

Closer to home, Liverpool Central Library is already undergoing a major structural overhaul, which promises to look amazing once finished and I'm looking forward to seeing it re-open.

Wirral Libraries are also changing.  In their draft strategy for the future, they write, "The Government’s Department for Culture, Media and Sport quotes a decline in the number of visits to library premises of around 25% over a 16 year period, and a steady decline in the loans of adults’ books over the decade prior to 2008/9 by more than a third."

It goes on to define the library service as: "4.1 - Wirral library is a friendly, accessible place that provides a safe, trusted and welcoming resource aimed at meeting the needs of the local community.  Also: "5.1 - Its focus is on providing information, knowledge and reading for self improvement and enjoyment."

When the concept of libraries was first developed, the majority of people could not afford to buy many - or perhaps any - books.  Access to information was limited by wealth and opportunity, but this simply isn't the case now.  Most people in the Western world have internet access of some kind.  Has any period of known history had so much information and entertainment so easily available to so many people?  Have you stopped to consider how fortunate you are, because of this?

Therefore, the urge to borrow well-fingered paperbacks whose tea-stained, crumb-lined pages emit the musty fragrances of total strangers' domestic charm has lost its appeal. A library now needs a catalogue of ebooks far more than it needs new paperbacks.

Libraries will continue to be repositories of antique books, and the world's store of antique books will continue to provide historical relevance and, upon re-sale, revenue.  The role of large format books, such as for highly illustrated works, seems likely to remain secure for the foreseeable future.  However, as paperbacks gradually give way to ebooks, and as more old books become available as ebooks, will the way we view collections of newer books change?  Just as the under-25s tend not to buy CDs but to opt for digital downloads, will those familiar shelves of curling, yellowing but beloved paperbacks go the same way at 12-track tapes and VCR cassettes?  I strongly suspect they will.

Are public libraries likely to become community hubs, with a cafe, computer suite and a museum of old and valuable books which people peer at through glass cabinets before downloading a pristine digital version?  Will library staff cease to laboriously replace returned books to the correct shelves, day in, day out, and instead become ereader engineers, social club organisers, and mediators between the public and various social services? 

If the latter sounds far-fetched, I should point out the Wirral's library staff will soon be running the council's One Stop Shops, where people pay council taxes and apply for many state benefits and rebates, and discuss their state pensions.  So a library user will go from borrowing the latest bodice-ripper to discussing private finance with the same member of staff, and all at the same counter with a queue of other library users waiting right behind.  It sounds far from ideal.

So, how often do you visit a library? Do you borrow books, or do you visit it for social reasons, or do you make use of their computer suite?  How do you view the changing role of libraries?