life – of words & books

If I had a nickel for every event I organised in 2022 and missed … I’d have three nickels. That’s not a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened three times …

I MISSED A FLIGHT TO CARCASSONNE

Yeah, I could have gone to the France. (Bonjour! Voulez vous une baguette?) I had a cheap flight, and an airbnb booked – it was beautiful, a lovely little apartment up several flights of winding steps, overlooking the old town, with a cathedral at the very bottom of it all. A boulangerie right around the corner. I could have sat on a balcony, eaten pastries, and woven a story!

I did … none of those things.

The week before I was due to catch the short flight over to France two things (2) happened:

a) I began to feel a tiny, incy bit poorly

b) the feeling of dread began to climb

There was this very vivid mental image in my mind, you see – I hop on a plane and go to a country, find a ride from the airport to the apartment, walk deserted streets, forget to buy food because it’s too late, lie on the bed and perish of starvation. In the morning I wake, a Victorian waif, and sip water from a tap. Misery is my companion. Despair, my friend.

The vibes, I announced to any unfortunate person in my general vicinity, were off.

I released that I was an adult and thusly, I have autonomy. If I do not want to hop on a flight and butcher a beautiful language and be battered to death with a baguette – I did not have to.

This felt like a sudden and beautiful moment of self-realisation.

The plane took off. My seat, empty. The airbnb, cancelled.

(And it was a good thing too – I developed a filthy cold and had a redder nose than Rudolf himself. Forgive me, Rudolf! I’ll be guiding that sleigh tonight!)

I DID NOT SEE SPOCK

I say this with love, but I probably shouldn’t be permitted to buy tickets. To anything. You know, just no tickets in general. Step away. Don’t purchase.

And, in the dreadful occasion that I do purchase the tickets, I should also ensure that I have a method, a means, or a way – of getting a refund.

(I have not learned my lesson.)

A friend and I were going to go down to London to see Spock (Zachary Quinto) and Friar Tuck (David Harewood) in a play which probably was Very Serious and Important. I definitely was going for the cultural element, and not because I was determined to support Zachary Quinto in person.

We had a dream. We had a plan. We even had a parking space. And then strikes hit the railways and a dastardly cold struck my friend.

Reader, I tried to give those tickets to someone else. I did my very best. There were no takers. We couldn’t move the tickets without incurring extra cost, and we couldn’t get a refund, and if I made the trip on my own I would be driving at one am in the morning. No one wanted that. Especially me, Ness, who is very attached to the idea of being in bed and not on a motorway in the wee hours of the morning.

Alas, when the curtains opened there would have been two empty seats in Grand Circle Row F. But listen, dear actors and stage hands and theatre folk – we were there in spirit.

I messaged my friend: this play is moving me to tears.

He agreed, but mentioned that he couldn’t see the stage as someone’s head was in the way.

We were, in all probability, in our PJs, in our respective homes.

I DID NOT GO TO COMIC CON

… as you can tell, there is a theme here.

Having been to London Comic Con, dressed as Jason Todd and sporting the fakest and most wonderful of crowbars, it was obviously imperative to do it again. But this time? A friend and I were going to be dressed as hobbits.

How exciting! How thrilling!! We were going to look spectacular! The hobbitiest hobbits to ever hobbit! I began mental preparations to make the hobbit feet (and by ‘make’ I mean ‘buy’).

These plans did not last long.

‘What if,’ I asked my friend, ‘we went as ironic hobbits. With a white t-shirt that said “Hobbit” on it?’

She agreed.

I felt quite smug, as if I was a future hipster Hobbit. I could run around and demand if total strangers had eaten their second breakfast! What panache! What style!

but just imagine us, accosting everyone ‘HAVE THEY TAKEN THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD?’ and then being thrown out of comic con because our great wit proved to be too powerful

Those t-shirts, dear reader, were never made.

But no worries! We were still 100% going to comic con!! It would be grand! Great! Brilliant! It … did not quite happen.

There was a communications failure and the carrier pigeon I sent my friend was shot on its way to her. To exacerbate the matter, I had neglected to organise a) transport and b) apparel – assuming, of course, that magically and wonderfully these things would just … happen.

They did not. We live in a society.

The night before, a decision had to be made. When the morning of comic con dawned, I had a delightful lie-in.

(Sometimes, the best plans can be the cancelled ones.)

Believe it or not, the interrupted plans don’t worry me too much. Sometimes, the dream of going somewhere – that delicious, comforting feeling of something to look forward to – is worth the money itself.

(Is that what I say to comfort myself? Yes. Yes, it is.)

In Calvin & Hobbes, Calvin’s dad would probably say cancelled plans were character building or something, and you know what? I’d agree with him. I really did enjoy that lie-in.

What things didn’t you do in 2022?

ness talks about life

2022 – it happened

December 30, 2022 nesskingsley

2022 was a year that happened. That’s an entirely accurate statement. No word of a lie. Things were done and doings were … thinged (?) Moving swiftly on …

WRITING

I have written two novellas, finished one fanfiction project (I have zero regrets), and started countless projects. I wish that I could have done more, but it hasn’t been my focus this year … and that’s okay.

Project If is changing form again. I think I’ve cracked the problem – the reason why I haven’t been able to look it in the eye for months, if not years. The genre is the problem. Humour is where I feel most comfortable, and I think if I concentrate on inserting that aspect into the book, I might actually end up with something I can be happy with. (And giggle about. Because I dearly love to giggle at my work. IT’S FUNNY DANG IT ALL. I WILL POINT YOU TO THE BOOK ABOUT TOXIC UNICORN MANURE. MY SENSE OF HUMOUR IS REFINED hahahahaha.)

ADVENTURES

I’ve been very blessed to have had lots of adventures this year. I’ve written about one or two of them on here.

bruges was beautiful, like a postcard come to life

To get to spend time with the people I love? To watch my nieces and nephews grow up? To just hang with friends and family? To be a part of their adventures – big or small? To cheer on my best friend as she went on a big-awesome-amazing adventure of her own? To watch Rings of Power with my brothers and sister-in-law and terrorise them all with my firm devotion to Adar AKA Father of the Year? My bank account may never be heaving but I’m rich and I defy anyone who says otherwise.

READING

Storygraph tells me I’ve read 46 books this year. To read the list of books is to time travel, in a way. There’s a few comic books on there – may I recommend Batman Adventures and also Batman: Curse of the White Knight?

a dear friend sent me this book and it made me cry so please read it too

There’s a spattering of non-fiction, Backstabbing For Beginners by Michael Soussan was incredibly immersive … and eye opening … and depressing. Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman gave me a dose of reality and a wish to make the most of the time I’ve been given.

It would be hard to choose my very favourite book this year, but I have to say, listening to the Powder Mage trilogy by Brian McClellan was wild and I would 100% recommend. I also discovered Mo Dao Zu Shi, a story that is living proof that you can cram maximum tropes into one narrative with maximum impact and it is 10/10 inspirational to writers everywhere.

Oh! Hot tip: if you ever read The Communist Manifesto, I’d suggest reading Animal Farm first. Also pronouncing bourgeoisie is one of my favourite things to do.

MOVIES

RRR – I watched it. I stayed up until 1:30 am to finish it and what a wild ride. Reader, I was consumed. It was a musical, an essay on the horrors of British Colonialism, a bromance, an Intro To The Care And Keeping of Tigers 101, Action Scenes That Tom Cruise WISHES He Was Part Of, and just … perfection. I’m going to be watching it again with a friend and I cannot wait.

I went to see The Batman three (3) times and I have zero (0) regrets. The OST moved me to tears (‘It’s the cellos, Mum!’) and everything – everything – was a feast for a dedicated Batman: The Animated Series fan. Please watch it and you’ll agree with me that this Batman? He’d deffo adopt an orphan and think it 100% normal behaviour to let him run amok on the streets as Robin.

You can’t really mention Batman without also mentioning the horrible loss of Kevin Conroy this year; he will always be the definitive voice of Batman, and was a thoroughly wonderful human being. Batman will always bear the mark of his legacy.

MUSIC

clearly ambiguous is a prestigious two-person music group band thing of which I am a half. Heh. Read that sentence again. I don’t like to brag, but we had twenty-two monthly listeners the other day. Which, you know, is one more than twenty-one. We’re kinda famous like that.

I don’t have any excuse for this, really. Except that it was lots and lots of fun to do and now I’m blessed with knowing that I have a cackle that could be called creepy. This self-knowledge is very enlightening. Someone give me flight clearance, cause I am ascending.

LIFE

They say that time flies but listen, it doesn’t. There was so much muchness in 2022 my head boggles with it. I look back on it all and I require smelling salts ASAP please and thank you! I’ve learned a lot – in the conventional sense – I’ve always kept educating myself because oh heck yeah, it’s fun. (The mitochondria is the something of something.) But in the rest? About life? I feel like I know less. Logic? WHERE YOU AT?

2022 wasn’t always an easy year, but how can I look back on it with anything but fondness, because I was lucky enough to spend it with those I care about?

And to you, yes you, reading this post – thank you! I hope you have a wonderful new year. Have courage, and be kind – to yourself and to others. I’ll try and do the same.

Happy New Year!

ness talks books

crocodile on the sandbank: amelia is single until she isn’t

May 21, 2022 nesskingsley

Let’s pretend I haven’t taken a long hiatus from this blog (HI HOW ARE YOU FORGIVE ME), and let me tell you about the first book from a series that I would happily tattoo on my body. (Though, because such real estate is limited, I’ll just write about it here.) It’s the Amelia Peabody series by Elizabeth Peters AKA Barbara Mertz and it is most excellent.

Amelia Peabody inherited two things from her father: a considerable fortune and an unbendable will. The first allowed her to indulge in her life’s passion. Without the second, the mummy’s curse would have made corpses of them all.
goodreads blurb

This is … the beginning of everything. And I think, once you’ve read the whole series, it’s very much worth coming back to reread this one. You will gain an entirely new perspective. Different interactions will take on a great more worth and meaning once you’ve seen how everything plays out.

CROCODILE ON THE SANDBANK

I must admit – I view this book through rose-tinted glasses. With fond eyes. That sort of thing – but if you read this and think oh there’s stuff that I like but other things that are a little meh (cough the mummy cough) then continue on with the series because let me promise you: it only gets better. Everything is up from here. All the stuff you love will be present IN SPADES. Yes. I love this series. No, I don’t have any chill.

THE MYSTERY

There’s a curse! There’s a mummy haunting the archaeological camp! What will we do?? When in danger, when in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout! (I’m a poet …)

“Stop,” he ordered, in a low but compelling voice. “Do not take another step, or I fire! Dash it,” he added vexedly, “does the monstrosity understand English? How absurd this is!”
“It understands the gesture, at least,” I called, thrusting head and shoulders through the window. “Lucas, for pity’s sake, seize it! Don’t stand there deriding its linguistic inadequacies!”

It’s fun. Is it A++ Agatha-Christie-wishes-she-could-write-this? No. It’s not. It’s good, but it’s not great. But I’m not here for the mystery in this one. I’m here for the characters. More specifically, I’m here for Amelia Peabody and Radcliffe Emerson.

THE ROMANCE

Amelia starts off single as the last pringle in a pringle tube. She meets Emerson who is … cares for two things: his brother, Walter, and Egyptology. (And not necessarily in that order.) He is handsome. He is tall. He blusters. He immediately starts a battle of wits with Amelia.

Emerson: You, asking for advice? Let me feel your brow, Peabody, I am sure you must be fevered.
EMERSON, A MAN AMONG MILLIONS

It’s a delight to read. I adore it. I subscribe. This is my cup of tea. This waters all the crops I don’t have.

God help the poor mummy who encounters you, Peabody,” he said bitterly. “We ought to supply it with a pistol, to even the odds.
EMERSON, A MAN IN LOVE AND TERRIFIED BY IT

But for those who view his behaviour as Not Nice and excessively boorish, let it be known that he has Peabody’s number and his bark is worse than his bite. He might protest plenty but methinks he protests too much. Also he saves her life from a VERY DEADLY SNAKE and suffers a great deal of worry that he immediately tries to hide.

(He’s Victorian and they are all emotionally constipated. DON’T WORRY – WE WILL HAVE CHARACTER GROWTH.)

which they will handle with grace and aplomb

If you read ‘Amelia Peabody’s Egypt’ – you’ll find that there’s some excerpts from his own journal regarding these events. It’s perfectly delicious.

But let it not be said that Amelia doesn’t give as good as she gets. Forget the mystery, this book is really a tale of two people who are incurably fascinated with each other – and do their best to a) annoy each other and b) hide it in the midst of a potentially life-threatening situation.

I looked Emerson up and down. The clinical appraisal annoyed him, as I had known it would; he squirmed like a guilty schoolboy …
AMELIA PEABODY, EVERYONE

They are entirely suited to each other and – for the rest of the series – they are On Each Others Side. Married. Deeply In Love. But for this first book? We get to witness all the sparks flying. All of ’em. We get to see them reluctantly falling ever deeper in love.

There’s a secondary romance which is very Victorian-esque and suitably dramatic (but in the best way)

“To Walter! May he make Evelyn as happy as she deserves – or I will deal with him!”
“Spoken with characteristic tact,” said Emerson under his breath.
AMELIA PEABODY, EXCELLENT AT TOASTS

So while this book isn’t the very, very best of the series, it’s still good, it’s Elizabeth Peters finding her writing legs. This has to walk, so the rest can run and prod everyone with a parasol. This is the origin story so that we can have the other adventures. And in true, origin story style, it even starts with a dead parent. (*Batman has joined the chat*)

happy reading!

ness talks about life

what to do: a follow up to a life crisis

October 27, 2021October 27, 2021 nesskingsley

I know, I know, I’m sure everyone has been burning with an intense desire to know exactly what profound thoughts have been rattling around my head and also – of course – which work sector I ended up gracing with my superb skills.

I have a job. And it will come as a complete shocker that it is not one of the three professions I listed in a previous blog post. Gee. Life is surprising. But working on an offshore oil rig – apparently – was a touch too far. As was being an astronaut (though I am working on that, I’ll have you know) and a saturation diver. Life is also cruel like that.

My brother and I were exchanging genial insults the other day – and then he said to me:

I hope space DISAPPEARS so that you can NEVER be an astronaut.

I’ve never been more proud of him. It’s a level of pettiness I can only aspire to achieve. (I shan’t transcribe the conversation that led up to the above quote, but please do me a favour and imagine that I was marvellously witty.)

However, I digress. I’m writing this because it feels as though I have embarked upon what – in certain circles – is known as:

A NEW SEASON OF LIFE

*throws confetti, accidentally pollutes the environment and chokes one (1) rodent, a rainbow appears in the sky and hits the last migrating goose*

No, I’m not getting married. I, I’ll have you know, am clearly going to be a spinster until I’m a withered husk of bones and wrinkles. You’re welcome, world.

Neither am I – as the scriptures say – ‘with child’. See the above reason. I’m not ready for motherhood. My guppies – George Harrison, Ringo Starr, Neil, Paisley and the deceased Nebuchadnezzar, John, and Paul -would agree.

It’s amazing what making a life change does to you. Being able to quit a job that was growing steadily more pressured, and finding a new one that is far less pressured? It has been such a blessing.

And then, there is of course the life crisis I underwent whilst sitting in the hairdresser’s having my hair dyed partially grey. (The life crisis had nothing to do with the colour, I’ll have you know.) I sat there and was still and so withdrawn into myself it was strange that life was still happening around me; hair was being cut, nails done, and conversations were being had.

I sat and stared at myself in the mirror and thought so hard it was surprising I didn’t ruin my three brain cells. I walked into the hairdresser’s a youngish woman with grey hair tips, brown roots, and a vague life plan.

I left with brown roots shot through with grey and an Idea that was boggling me with the simplicity of it. (Don’t ever limit yourself, by the way. There is more to you than you know/remember.) It wasn’t a book/blog related thing – which, perhaps, is one of the reasons I was so stunned.

So, that’s that. Exciting times. Uncertain too, but isn’t it always the case? (For the love of Pete, if you want to maintain your sanity don’t spend too long on the news or social media.)

this is the ‘moon’. you may recognise it. my camera is truly brilliant.

We hopped in the car the other night – drove into the countryside to crane our heads back and look at the stars. The moon shone so brightly that it almost obscured all other night-sky lights. It shone on the water; made it magical and yet so much more. This was real; an everyday extraordinary sight that added flavour to life.

I didn’t bring a flask of tea with me – an oversight; make sure you have a clean flask with you if you venture out on an autumnal evening.

Anyway, the point – the whole point – of this post is to say: life goes on. What is now isn’t forever. Have a look round – you can do more than you think.

And if you don’t necessarily succeed? Hey, who cares! Sometimes it’s the trying that matters. It’s the journey that enriches. The refusal to stagnate. The decision to keep your eyes open to possibilities and the desire to look for the wonder of it all.

So keep going. You’ve got this.

books, ness rambles

this blog has wrinkles / also: a gift

October 20, 2021October 19, 2021 nesskingsley

While the general census of the public seems to be time flies, it hasn’t felt like that here. However, to my considerable surprise, I realised quite recently that it’s been eight years. Eight years since I created a wordpress blog and embarked on a long hunt for the perfect blog name. (I still live in hope that I can find it!)

This blog has grown up with me, in a way. I started it in my late teens; as a kid with long, long hair who loved books immensely.

this picture could be like, a metaphor or something. but i prefer to remember it as ‘standing in a goat field with a book from a blogger i followed so a part of her could be in england’ because my gosh that’s a thing i did.

I’ve rambled about my life; about living abroad, things that didn’t happen on my adventures, ear piercings, hair dyeing adventures, how to make the perfect cup of tea, a bookworm’s guide to makeup – but most of all, I’ve rambled about stories; stories I’ve loved, stories I disliked, and stories I’ve written.

i’ve also taken many, many photos of books. because that’s a thing i’ll be proud to tell my grandnieces and nephews about

I think we all need a place for ramblings – this has been mine. Or at least, it’s been one of them. There are places and there are places for different forms of expression.

And man, this particular one has been fun. Some of my favourite blog posts are the ones in which I forced myself to watch an abomination of a movie, read a book about Batman and was disgusted, and recounted my immensely successful attempt at a Robin Hood retelling.

In our world of views and likes, ‘has it been a popular blog’ might be the first question asked upon hearing ‘eight year blogversary’. And the answer is – no. While it would – in theory – be nice to be one of those big blogs with a multitude of likes and so on and so forth, that hasn’t happened. And that’s okay. This blog has been exactly what I’ve needed it to be.

a place to do whatever the heck i’m doing here, for example – did i even *write* about the book i’m holding? i’ve no idea

I have immensely enjoyed using this space; I’ve written when I’ve remembered to and how I’ve wanted to. I’ve made schedules and abandoned schedules and then – for sheer larks – made more schedules (and abandoned them too!)

It must be said though: I am very grateful for those lovely souls who have read here over the years. I might not have quantity but by golly, I have quality.

What’s next, then? Good question! I’ve no idea. Who knows what the future holds? The past two years have been … well, they’ve been something. The internet isn’t always the greatest place to be – it can be difficult to navigate its waters, even in little corners like this. But writing about books and about, oh heck – anything and everything – has been a joy.

I can’t say I’ve learned many things over the last eight years – but what I have learned (and then promptly forgotten and then have to relearn) is this: we aren’t promised health, happiness, or even tomorrow. But we can change the way we view things; we can choose hope and we can choose joy and we can choose how to react. We can choose.

And that, my friends, is a God-given miracle.

You might see different posts pop up – on space, on eels, on the books I’ve remembered that I’ve read, and perhaps on ‘bigger’ topics or perhaps not. Either way – as a celebration of the eight years I’ve dwelt here, I’ve placed A Most Irregular Prophecy as completely free for the day. You can grab it – or not! – right here.

If you’ve been reading here a wee while, or are only just stopping by – thank you, and in the words of Guy:

Don’t have a good day. Have a GREAT day.

(happy reading!)

Tag: life

things i did not do in 2022