Rumour

Bizarre rumour circulating round Fritzonian Institute. Principle lecturer become unhinged. After last week's debacle when she tried to insist on giving another lecture on her beloved Derrida and was refused permission to, she left institute in a hurry.















When she didn't turn up the next few days, head of department called her home. No reply, so someone called there. No reply, no sign of anyone when peering through ground floor windows. Just as caller was about to leave, heard strange noise coming from garden shed. Curious, went down to bottom of garden to check out what was going on.



Opened door to hut. Couldn't believe his eyes. Every inch of walls were plastered with photographs or articles about Derrida. At far end of shed was bust of Derrida on pedestal, with one of lecturer's silk scarves draped round neck. Lecturer was kneeling on floor in front of pedestal, crooning his name: Jaques Derrida. On floors were memorabilia: coffee pots with his name inscribed, floor mops with 'Derrida, cleaner than clean', painted on the stem. Bookcase crammed full of his books: Of grammatology; Speech and Phenomena, Deconstruction for dummies, Deconstruction made more difficult. Caller spoke to lecturer but she couldn't reply, didn't even appear to see him.


























He phoned for ambulance, and she was taken to hospital, where she is now apparently heavily sedated.











Everyone shocked. Although warning signs were there, no-one thought her passion for Derrida was so extreme.

Writer-in-residence, Chi-Chi, been asked to take classes for rest of term. Other lecturer had offered to step in, but been told that his teaching is too basic and students feel patronised. Chi-chi gave good lecture today on mistakes beginning writers make in their opening pages: too much description, too much backstory. Had examples of good and bad opening paragraphs. Worked in small groups, discussing these and each group gave presentation to rest of class. Pleased to finally be involved in interactive studying. After all, much evidence supporting effectiveness of adult learning methods.
























So inspired by Chi-Chi's approach that when got home, was able to have calm discussion with Neville about why he shouldn't be main author of two chapters of Granny Elena's memoirs. Did agree, however, that he could help me plan chapters, and that his photos of Granny learning to breakdance would be included, also would include quotes from him about his experience of teaching elderly cat to dance - although had to point out importance of not digressing too much. Neville, although disappointed, recognised that perhaps he'd got carried away. Suspect he's also been distracted by desire to finish work on video to encourage elderly cats to take more exercise ( in form of breakdancing) as way to prevent heart disease and other debilitating illnesses.














Toying with idea of visiting lecturer in hospital once her treatment has begun to take effect. On one hand have found her arrogant and blinkered attitude offputting. On other hand, can hear Granny Elena say: It would be kind thing to do. I miss my granny.

Purrs

Bakhtin

Writer-in-residence class

Spent morning planning memoirs of Granny Elena. In afternoon went to Fritzonian Institute for class. Haven't blogged about classes since end of last term, for good reason. There haven't been any. Ongoing dispute between lecturer and inspectors about how curriculum should change. All this supposed to have been sorted out over summer but various delays: lecturerer's house had fire, which left her traumatised - not because of damaged jewellery or hi fi, but because she'd taken home hard copies of notes about Derrida, with whom she is obsessed. Turns out she needed intensive counselling three times a week for two months, and still hasn't fully recovered. If I were lecturer's husband, would be jealous at strength of her emotions over lunatic French philosopher, even though he's dead.










Anyway, were informed that lesson 1 of new curriculum ready today, so students turned up early, anticipating brilliant lecture on practical aspect of writing. Inspector had invited us to put ideas for topics into old sock (recently washed). Everyone brimming with suggestions: narrative distance/closeness; how to write sparkling dialogue, advantages and disadvantages of multiple viewpoints, to name a few.

Arranged to meet Oscar in canteen beforehand. Henri also invited but suspected would be too busy working on another strategy for promoting his book Guineapigging Out to join us mere animals. Most surprised, therefore, to see him at dining room table and brimming with excitement, for once not about something he'd achieved. On way into building he'd heard shouting from basement room. Had waddled downstairs, found a chair and perched on it by keyhole. Argument involved lecturer and a man, presumably an inspectors. Henri couldn't make out much but heard the names "Derrida" and "Lyotard" mentioned several times.
Assumed lecturer still not convinced that literary theory shouldn't be so prominent on writing course.













When class due to start, lecturer appeared, then stopped in doorway, turning white. Everyone stared at her. She raised trembling arm and pointed to Maya who was holding mug with slogan "I love Derrida". Maya actually hates Derrida - and all deranged philosophers - but confessed to having broken all her other mugs. Lecturer obviously distraught, taken back to trauma of flood. Chi-chi, writer in residence apppeareda, quickly assessed situation and agreed to teach. Delivered outstanding presentation on pros and cons of writing in 1st and 3rd person. Worried initially it would be too basic but topic covered in adequate depth and Chi-chi encouraged questions and general discussion. Tumultous applause at end, with Maya shouting out: 'Finally, something relevant to writing', before slinking under a table.










Arrived home, tired but in positive way, to discover Neville squatting on my desk, in front of him the notebook with beautiful leather cover, given to me by Aunt Mischa, to encourage me in my writing. Was worried he'd pooped all over it, but told me he'd been very careful. Had found my notes on rough outline of chapters for memoirs and added two more, with his name beside them as main author: Granny Elena and breakdancing; Granny Elena's deep relationship with Neville. As usual, in any situation connected with him, didn't know whether to be angry, amused or moved. On this occasion, without thinking, scooped him up in my paws and cuddled him for long time.




Purrs Bakhtin.

Success at last

Great news! So excited haven't stopped roaming flat since post arrived this morning. All happened very quickly. In class last year had lecture on how to cope with jealousy when fellow writers are successful. At time thought it was waste of valuable teaching time and would have preferred to be taught something about narrative position or subtext. Anyway, was becoming sick of Henri's boasting about success of cookery book - Guineapigging Out, also tacit expectation that I have nothing better to do - apart from studying for a Masters in Creative Writing - than trail round bookshops from John O'Groats to Land's End, helping him promote book. In stroppy mood, one day told him that he might as well have gone in for self-publishing, given that publishers doing little to publicise him. As well as travelling every weekend with Henri, have had to tolerate him texting me every time he receives fan mail.

So, decided it was high time had my own success. Had been thinking for a while about writing Granny Elena's memoirs, as received distinction for lifewriting assignments at Fritzonian Institute last year.



After careful consideration, submitted book proposal to prestigious publishing company - who will remain anonymous for the moment - and received positive response today. Delighted with proposal - apparently no cat ever written about their granny's life before. Didn't even mention in proposal that Granny Elena was daughter of famous Mikhail Bakhtin, not wanting to name drop, or have success on back of someone else's (Saussure said I was right, and was proud of me for adopting high moral stance; Notsaussure, as always, unconvinced such honour necessary).


Tonight flatmates and me are celebrating with three different kinds of fish, which fishmonger will deliver personally at six o'clock. Neville will be part of grand dinner, despite total lack of progress on kitchen floor (see post of September 26: An extraordinary summer) Have not invited Henri, and will switch off mobile phone.




Purrs
Bakhtin

The rise of a guinea pig

Ashamed to realise almost one month since last blogged. Two reasons for this. First one is because of chaotic situation in flat, more specifically in kitchen. Floorboards still not laid properly due to Neville's obsession with shrine to Granny Elena - anyone would think she was his granny, not mine. Got infected foot - which has required several visits to vet - from walking on rusty nail and have been limping round since, with not a shred of sympathy shown by Neville.





Other flatmates, Saussure and Notsaussure been fighting over what should happen.











Saussure produced guidelines prepared last year for Neville's continued occupancy of flat and said that Neville has only one more chance at behaving in a more sociable way.





Notsaussure says Neville won't change and should leave now. As usual am caught in middle. On one hand can see little chance of having settled life while Neville is around. On other hand, have become attached to this white mouse. Also he is brilliant breakdancer and once he has finished DVD on breakdancing for elderly felines, has promised to teach me how to dance. Convinced have potential for good hip movement. Therefore don't want to alienate Neville by insisting he finds new home.












Second reason for not writing is because been busy helping Henri promote his recently published cookery book Guineapigging Out.





Publishers done splendid job on production of book but not so hot on promoting it. Therefore Henri and I have trailed round bookshops all over Scotland trying to persuade them that this will be bestseller once people get to know about it. Henri - normally unbearably arrogant - developed crisis of confidence so have been coaching him on how to present himself, and how to give interviews. All very ironic given my own lack of confidence. Still, easier to help someone else than one's own self, as Granny used to say.



















Purrs

Bakhtin

An extraordinary summer

Meant to write about summer holiday as soon as I returned but chaos in flat made this difficult. For new readers, Neville, white mouse flatmate, had insisted on leaving up some of kitchen floorboards as shrine to my Granny Elena, with whom he communicated by tapping on rusty pipes. Turns out that while Saussure and Notsaussure away visiting relatives - meaning flat uninhabited for several weeks - some rats got in and chewed way through worn out pipes. Ended up with bad water leakage and now floor has to be replaced.

When insurance man came to assess damage, found Neville there, in threatening mode, refusing to leave Granny's shrine. Furthermore, he invited other mice friends to keep a 24/7 vigil on floor. Consequently kitchen entirely out of action and beginning to smell bad because of water damage.





























Breakthrough last week when we persuaded Neville that work must be done on kitchen floor, and if he cooperates, will help him build new - and more appropriate - shrine. Work now underway to lay new kitchen floor. Meanwhile we eat out each night - usually at friends' houses.
















Now progress underway, have energy to talk about Moscow.

Spent first few days taking things easy after tiring train journey. Then at beginning of week 2, things began happening. It started with Henri, receiving letter from publisher agreeing to publish his cookery book Guineapigging out. Normally in publishing world, can take 18 months from publisher's agreement to book appearing. However, publishers recognise huge gap in market for cookery books targetted specifically at guinea pigs and other rodents, and deemed it important to rush work through, employing extra staff.

Needless to say, Henri thrilled and spent first two days strutting around Aunt Mischa's apartment, talking about his marketing ideas into a dictaphone. Also heard one night - when he thought he was on his own - preparing speech should he receive invitations as an after dinner speaker. Also discovered him in the middle of the night searching the internet for waistcoats to give him added gravitas. Has already begun taking extra care with appearance, brushing his coat every day and changing diet to high fibre one with extra chewing to improve health and appearance of his teeth. Not too lordly with us, yet, fortunately, but suspect that may happen.



































Purrs

Bakhtin

Back in town

Arrived in Waverley this afternoon after crazy train journey from Moscow. Took 49 hours going via Berlin, Cologne, Brussels and London. Didn't sleep a wink because of antics of mad, white mouse, Neville, and incorrigible guinea pig, Henri.

Had great summer with many adventures. More to follow.

Excuse me for signing out now. Exhausted and doubt whether have enough energy to crawl into basket.

More soon.

Purrs

Bakhtin