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Nicholas Roy Butcher

In Defence of the Cliché

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Sunday 28 January 2024 at 19:11

Blog, when one is writing within the confines of a genre, there are inevitably certain expectations from the reader with regard to images, words and phrases, otherwise how can one conform to the idea of a genre? One is writing towards pre-existing parameters so will inevitably ‘rub up’ against the notion of cliché. The word ‘cliché’ is (obviously) French, and actually means a film negative, so has shifted its meaning during the process of translation.  It has, in itself, become a cliché (banal, often repeated, meaningless).  I do appreciate that my opinions here are ‘against the grain’ (cliché), and I am 'playing the devil’s advocate' (cliché), I just feel that the much maligned cliché needs and deserves a defence. We are all entitled to one in court, that’s the law.

We are, at the moment, writing in the year 2023, and lots and lots of human beings have been writing down lots and lots of stories for several thousands of years now. If the expectation for new writers such as us is to be 100% original 100% of the time then, I would say, that is a pretty high bar to set (another cliché) and, I would say, nigh on impossible, even in a language as vast and flexible as English.  I can promise you that any idea that we come up with here has been done before.

The expression ‘standing on the shoulders of giants’ is, yes, you guessed it, yet another cliché, and is what all great writers from the past, and present, have done and still do, including Joanne Rowling (even her writing is littered with adverbs which is exactly what we are told not to do in writing courses such as this).  None of us live or work in isolation and all of us have influences and inspirations.  Even dear old Will Shakespeare was writing in the same manner as his contemporaries, inspired by the Greek and Latin classics. He was just better at it than they were. And I say that as a huge fan. But I’m also a huge fan of Edmund Spenser, George Chapman and Michael Drayton.  Who?  The point to be made here is that there are, and have been, thousands and thousands of writers of whom we have never heard, nor have we read their work, so the idea that we can be entirely original with our writing is more than a little presumptuous, and dare I say it, tainted by a soupcon of arrogance.

So why is it that clichés receive such a bad rep?  Why do clichés become clichés?  They originate as a very good word / phrase / saying that is considered efficient, accurate and succinct (aren’t we constantly taught to do exactly that?) and so lots of people use them.  So the fact that they become clichés should be a tribute to the quality of the original thought, not cause them to be looked down upon and scorned. In western society we do the same with old people.  We shove them into a care home and ignore them.  One of the failings of the human race is that we are constantly looking for the next new / big thing.  Bigger, better, faster, more.  This is just one example of that. Change is just change. It doesn’t necessarily help us.

The clichéd phrase 'the grass is always greener on the other side' is relevant here, pointing out that what you have is just a point of view, it doesn't reflect reality.

We should learn to appreciate and nurture the good things that we have, instead of constantly yearning for something else.

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Nicholas Roy Butcher

Lettres d'Amour

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Sunday 13 February 2022 at 14:43

Dear Blog,

While watching a television programme recently, I noticed one of the protagonists pose the question - 'Whatever happened to love letters?'  Do people ever actually put pen to paper in these days of digitalisation?  Does anybody express their love with flowing prose, pretty similes, or voluminous expositions of never-ending affection?

The sad truth of the matter is that, for the vast majority of people, no, this doesn't happen.  In these days of mass media available with a simple tap of your smartphone screen, the competition for our attention is increasingly fierce and takes up large amounts of our time.  Who has the space in their life to sit down and write an actual letter when there are a thousand 'feeds' to scroll through on one's social media portal?

The act of writing a letter shows so much more about a person than just the words on the page.  The words are important, of course, but the quality of your handwriting, presentation of the letter, the way you sign off at the end, all communicate your character just as much.

Has the art of communicating our love for one another been lost?

The honest answer to that is, no, of course it hasn't.  But how we do it has certainly changed.  With all the technology and machines which help us to be ever more lazy in the course of our modern daily lives, we seem to have less and less time.  Affectionate and expressive missives have been replaced by a love heart emoji on a chat screen.  Brevity in action.  Time is short.

Recently on the A111 module we have been looking at the question - 'what is courage?'  Courage can take many forms, from facing a terminal illness with dignity, facing down a bully at school or work, or telling your best friend the truth, no matter how much it may hurt them (and put your friendship in jeopardy).  So, courage is the strength to confront one's fears, even though there may be a great personal cost.

In a similar vein I have asked myself the question - 'what is true love?'  Is it the all-consuming passion and infatuation of Romeo and Juliet?  Is it the patience, tolerance and compromise of a couple who have been married for thirty years?  Is it the come-what-may blood tie of familial loyalty?

Love is a many faceted creature which inspires passion, loyalty, compromise, respect, patience and simple affection.  So true love is all of these things, including the strength to let go of the person you love, if that is what will secure their happiness.  Not an easy thing to do.  Love is hard.  True love takes courage.

The way we choose to express ourselves in the digital age has changed.  We may have exchanged the verbose epistle for a love heart emoji on our smartphone screens, but when all is said and done, it is still a love letter.

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Nicholas Roy Butcher

The Alacritous Opsimath

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Saturday 5 February 2022 at 18:45

Dear Blog,

A111, the first year general humanities module, is now well under way.  The subjects studied have been varied, as you would expect.  Some interesting to me, some not so interesting.  But in each Unit I have learned new things and been able to view various aspects of the world through new eyes.  The process of opening up my mind to the world is almost tangible in nature.

This is a joy for me, and I wish I had been able to have these experiences at a much younger age, but then I check myself, because that raises the question of whether I would have been able to appreciate what I am learning as a younger man.

Education is not always appreciated at a young age.  Personally, I hated school and couldn't wait to leave.  Many school-leaving university students just want to get their degree out of the way as quickly as possible so that they can get on with their lives.  In some respects they can't be blamed for these feelings having just survived the school system.

But this is misguided because a University education is very different.  Not least for the notion that one is studying a subject that is at least of interest, if not a passion, and one's studies are, to a large degree, self-driven.

For my third assignment on this module I have chosen to do some creative writing as this is, after all, why I am here, and it feels good to finally have a chance to test my skills.  I may fail miserably.  But at least I am trying to hone those skills and turn myself into a better writer.  I believe I will always be doing this wherever I am and whatever I am doing, because I believe there is always something to learn and something that I can do better.

On my death bed I will probably be editing one of my stories or poems.  Or I'll be researching how another writer works to try to improve my own techniques and processes!

It's never too late to learn, I'm told.

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Nicholas Roy Butcher

Joie de Vivre

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Thursday 16 September 2021 at 16:48

Dear Blog,

The deed is done. I am able to report that I completed and submitted my TMA04 essay on Monday, a day early, so that means that I have now completed the Access module!  I am obviously very happy to have achieved this milestone considering the hurdles encountered along the way but I knew this would be anything but easy.

Celebrations were had, of course. This time with a bottle of Cotes du Rhone and some chocolate cake, as you do.

I am a great believer in celebrating all the small achievements and victories along the way, not just for the sake of one's self confidence and motivation, but also for the simple act of enjoying life in the here and now.

It is fantastic to have great life goals and to strive for a wonderful future, but it is also important to enjoy life as you go along, otherwise you will wake up ten or fifteen years from now, having spent all that time striving for a lofty goal, and suddenly wonder where on earth those years have gone.

Ever since I was a young child, I have been a collector of bookmarks of all shapes and sizes.  I have a favourite on my study desk right now which reminds me of this important concept.  It has a simple little rhyme on it which I believe is worth reproducing here;

'He who looks for a brighter tomorrow, And finds no beauty today, Has somehow missed the joy of living, Somewhere along the way...'

The past week has been a double celebration for me, as I have also passed over into the realm of Grandparenthood.  Yes, I am now officially old.  Arthur popped out on the 8th September.  Welcome to the world, Arthur!

Whatever grade/mark I achieve for the Access module, I know I have learnt a lot, not just about the subject matter but also about how to be a good student.  And I will take these newfound skills and knowledge and apply them with alacrity in A111, the first of the Level 1 modules, which starts in just two and a half weeks.

Onwards, Blog...

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Nicholas Roy Butcher

Resilience

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Thursday 16 September 2021 at 16:24

Dear Blog,

I love the sound of the word 'resilience'. It is one of those words that one can pronounce with gusto, and bring to life its actual meaning; 'recoiling, springing back, recovering from shock or depression'.

One of the reasons for my absence from this blog is due to some difficulties I have experienced on my journey through this Access module.  I have had two foot injuries, two back injuries, and recently suffered from a nasty bout of the 'flu (not Covid related, thankfully), amongst other hurdles.

It has been a steep learning curve trying to become a fully functioning student, trying to fit the requisite amount of study in around a full time job and other commitments; learning to be an efficient note taker (not too much, not too little); learning to 'pick my battles' and not to become too bogged down with the immense amount of information that is presented to us during the course of a module's study; learning to prepare for an assignment even though you may still be completing the course work relevant to that assignment; and generally taking on board all the necessary skills that help you to be an accomplished student like efficient research, reflecting on your study journey, navigating the difficulties of applying for tuition fee loans, and most importantly, being determined about keeping up with the coursework!

I am happy to report that, as we sit here staring down both barrels of the final Tutor Marked assignment which is due in just four weeks, I have truly turned a corner.  Not just in my efforts to complete this course, but also in my determination to become a good student, with all the necessary skills (albeit fledgling skills at the moment) to carry me through to the next, more serious stage of my studies.

For the aforementioned reasons, this has not been easy.  But I have faced the challenge with determination and not a small dose of this blog's titular quality.  Whatever I achieve with the grade for this course, I know I can be proud of myself for all the other things that I have accomplished.

Recently, someone cheerfully regaled me with the adage, 'what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger'.

I have high hopes, Blog; I have high hopes...

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Nicholas Roy Butcher

Blind Painting

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Sunday 11 April 2021 at 14:56

Dear Blog,

Our recent studies on the Humanities Access Module have centred around the techniques of poetry, such as rhyme schemes, metre, alliteration and the use of metaphor and simile to create memorable images.

I was reminded of a Leonardo da Vinci quote, in which he argues that - 'If you call painting dumb poetry, the painter may call poetry blind painting.'

This is a relatively famous and well-loved quote, but if one considers it literally, the painter doesn't need to be able to speak to be able to translate what he sees on to the canvas.  The poet, however, must be able to see what he is describing in the first instance, to be able to find the words to describe it.  Luckily, the meaning of the quote runs much deeper and is a poignant observation on the way that true artists are able to translate their experience of the world in a purposeful and memorable way, using their own unique talents.

The painter, for example, must have a vast array of colours at their disposal, the technical ability to manipulate them, and a talent for good observation.  Likewise, the poet must have a vast knowledge of vocabulary at their disposal, the technical ability to manipulate that vocabulary, and a talent for good observation.  (This is slightly different to the musical composer, who must have a vast array of musical note combinations at their disposal, the technical ability to manipulate them, and a talent for aural observation.)

Good poetry, then, like good painting, stems from good observation.  But this is not as simple as it sounds. Observation is not as straightforward as just looking at something and noting down its physical qualities, it also involves an emotional and intellectual understanding of a place or situation.

I am lucky enough to be in the possession of a book called 'Self-Portraits', which is a crossover between the worlds of art and poetry. It is a collection of poems by a man called David Pollard, who studied a vast array of self-portraits by a large number of painters from across the centuries, and painted his own observations on these masters using his knowledge of words, and technical ability to manipulate those words.  It is truly the work of a master wordsmith, and includes an observation on the self-portrait created by Leonardo da Vinci himself (Red Chalk on Paper - 1510).

Great artists, then, have gained a knowledge and understanding of their chosen subject, developed the technical ability to manipulate the tools at their disposal, and have been able to use these skills to interpret and translate their own unique view of the world onto paper or canvas.  And they have managed to do this time and time again.  And so to close, Blog, I am going to make use of another famous quote from the ancient Greek philosopher, Aristotle;

'We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit...'

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Nicholas Roy Butcher

Professor Gopnik W. Snodgrass Smythe

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Wednesday 7 April 2021 at 21:32

Dear Blog, in honour of today being World Poetry Day, I would like to introduce to you an old friend of mine...

Professor Gopnik W. Snodgrass-Smythe

In Memoriam

 

Lest we forget!  (Or dare we remember…?), the sadly named G. Snodgrass-Smythe,

Who walked on this earth a gallump of a man!  Gangling, elastic, and lithe…

The hair on his crown, from the nape to the for ‘ad, was wild, unruly and red,

And stayed on his top ‘til he was an old man.  “It’s still the real thing!”  He had said.

He rode to his work on a Penny and Farthing, his students would learn from him; Science.

If noise from the rear of the class was uttered, they would all hear him shout: “Compliance!”

He would leap from the front to the back of the class, two strides was all it would take,

And shove in the mouths of the loquacious children: two hamsters; a bird and a snake.

His orbital eyes would roll round and round in a journey of revolving displeasure,

And strange, squeaky noises would squirt from his mouth at a pitch that no-one could measure.

When the height of his temper, at vertiginous levels, caused steam to explode from his ears,

The top of his head would flip off like a lid, and expose his boiled brains to his peers.

***

A tiny white cottage with thatch on its roof, and leaded–light windows to boot,

At the end of a long, winding, overgrown lane was home, and he filled it with loot.

Every spare cupboard, and under the mattress, and even inside an old welly,

Were bursting with wads of the pecuniary kind, and some of it mouldy and smelly.

It was easy to notice, at close quarters they said, a proclivity for Garlic and Onions,

Perhaps for to disguise his penchant for Whisky, which he claimed was relief for his bunions.

Most curious of all, for many it seemed, was his vexillological behaviour,

And a Standard he raised in his garden each day to the Queen, whom he deemed was his saviour!

When that Professor Gopnik William Snodgrass-Smythe, a funny old fella was he,

Rode on a charabanc down to the beach and decided to swim in the sea,

Was surrounded by thousands of placoid creatures, who mistook him for cuttle-fish bone,

And on tasting those garlicky, malodorous legs, they thenceforth did leave him alone!

***

And so, to the end of our tale we do come.  But wait!  I have more yet to utter!

As Gopnik lay sleeping alone in his bed, his feet poking out through the shutter,

That dark, moonless night, on the eve of his birthday, robbers did visit his home.

Purloining his savings and running amuck, they even dropped his treasured tome.

The very next morning, on seeing the mess, old Gopnik he looped o’er the loop!

He ran around in such a two and an eight; they thought he would reach Guadeloupe.

But sadly, it seems, on that fate-ridden morning, one temper too many he unloaded,

And flipping the lid of his red coloured mane, his grey coloured brains exploded!

Oh dear.

***

Prostrate he reclines, with the moles and the worms, asleep in his elongulated box,

Reclaimed by Nature, by the forces that made him, recycling his wiry red locks…

 

R.I.P.


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Nicholas Roy Butcher

If Only He Could Write A Sonnet...

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Wednesday 7 April 2021 at 21:31

Dear Blog,

With World Poetry Day looming, and we are now studying poetry in earnest on the Arts and Languages Access module, my thoughts have re-immersed themselves into my own poetic journey.

I have loved and appreciated poetry all my life.  It can be fun-loving, (Edward Lear - The Owl and the Pussycat), deeply moving (John Keats - When I Have Fears), nature loving (Edward Thomas - The Brook) poignantly anti-war (Wilfred Owen - Dulce et Decorum Est) and even politically rousing (Percy Shelley - The Mask of Anarchy).

 And let's not forget Rudyard Kipling's inspiring - 'If',  and the anonymously penned 'Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep'.

All of these poems, and many more, have embedded themselves in my soul.

Which is why I have felt inspired, no... that's the wrong word... I have felt compelled for most of my life to 'stand on the shoulders of these giants' and put my own pen to paper.

In spite of the encouragement of friends, family and peers, I have usually been scathing, or at best gruffly accepting of my own efforts.  But I suppose in the fulness of time, it is not really my place to judge my own work.  Many poets' work has only been discovered and become appreciated post mortem, sad though that is.

John Keats for example, died of 'Consumption' (we now know this disease as Tuberculosis) when he was just 25 years old. What a tragic waste for anyone to die so young, but that makes his legacy to us all the more remarkable, not just for its quantity, but for its quality.  Which leaves us wondering what more could he have achieved had he lived to a normal age?

I can only look on in awe at the achievements of all these masters of wordsmithery, and wish that I had but half the talent that they possessed.  Nevertheless, I shall continue to work hard at trying to write something that is worthy of them.

There are lots of things that our ancestors here in Britain have done that have been, shall we say, less than honourable, but I truly believe that we can be immensely proud of our poetic, and literary, heritage.

So, Blog, just like Sisyphus I will labour and strive, and who knows, maybe one day I will achieve something of note...

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Calling Professor Higgins

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Wednesday 7 April 2021 at 21:30

Dear Blog,

I am very happy to report that I have submitted my first TMA, and we now have a few days to draw breath and relax before studies recommence on the 13th.  An appropriate moment, I think, to pause and reflect.

During our studies on the Arts and Languages Access module over the last few weeks, I have often been reminded of the indomitable character Professor Henry Higgins, the scholar of Phonetics in the musical 'My Fair Lady', and wonder what he would have made of modern linguistic studies.  Perhaps he would have relished it?  One of his claims in the story is to be able to, by listening to your accent, pinpoint your place of birth to within a quarter of a mile.  Putting aside his arrogant, boorish personality, I couldn't help but admire his academic prowess...

And who could forget Audrey Hepburn as the long suffering Eliza Doolittle in the Warner Bros film adaptation of George Bernard Shaw's original 1913 play 'Pygmalion'?  It is packed with an array of wonderful Lerner and Loewe songs, including my personal favourite 'On The Street Where You Live'.  I still feel aggrieved that, even though he had a more than capable vocal dexterity, Jeremy Brett was overdubbed for this song.

I remember watching this film with my parents as a young boy on a small, square television which had just three buttons on it; BBC1, BBC2 and ITV, and you had to get up from the sofa to change the channel.  Ah, the good old days.  When Channel 4 came along in 1982, we had to buy one of the new-fangled televisions which had a fourth button.  Talk about your advances in technology...

But aside from being a fantastically entertaining film, I remember being intrigued by Rex Harrison's character, because he had a wonderful old phonograph with black, cylindrical recordings of people reciting a frightening collection of different vowel pronunciations.  At one point, Higgins forces Eliza to practice 'proper' pronunciation with marbles in her mouth, poor girl.

There is a serious point to be made here though, that there has always been a whole industry surrounding elocution lessons in this country, designed to stamp out unwanted regional accents in an effort to speak 'proper' English. Isn't diversity a good thing?  Doesn't the saying go - 'Variety is the spice of life'?

Since beginning the Arts and Languages module I have renewed my appreciation of my Warwickshire heritage and ancestry.  I am proud to have been born in Shakespeare country.

And so, Blog, next week we begin studying in earnest the beguiling world of poetry.  Ma raison d'être.

Bring it on...

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Nicholas Roy Butcher

On Home Soil

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Wednesday 7 April 2021 at 21:31

Dear Blog,

Did you know that there are estimated to be over 7,000 separate and distinct human languages spoken on Planet Earth today?

This is a phenomenal statistic, but this number is dwindling rapidly due to socio-economic and climatic pressures, which is why I feel that we (as humans) should celebrate and protect this diversity, now more than ever.

Back on home soil, I absolutely love the variety of local dialects and accents to be found within just the English language alone.  Whether you live on the edges of the Australian outback, the wintry wilds of Canada, a Cornish fishing village, the Yorkshire Moors, the windy plains of Norfolk, or even the Californian Pacific coastline, you will have a distinct and recognizable pattern of speech.

My fascination with dialects and accents began at a very early age with family visits. Although I have lived south of the M25 since I was 5 years old, my family origins are in the West Midlands; Shakespeare country if you will. Most of my family can be found residing somewhere along the River Avon valley from Stratford to Pershore.  Although I consider myself to have a very bland, standard south-eastern accent, there are still words I utter to this day which give away my origins, causing people to look at me sideways and smile knowingly.

My mum grew up in a town called Evesham ('Asum' to the locals) which is peculiar for having something called 'Asum Grammar', a local dialect all but indecipherable to anyone but an expert!  Should you venture to study this unique regional English peculiarity, I wish you well. You would be in good company as comedian and television personality Alistair McGowan created a tv programme about it in 2013 as a so-called 'back to my roots' documentary of his birthplace.

My own point of reference is that it tends to, generally speaking, shorten vowel sounds. For example, the word 'sheep' becomes either one 'ship' or several 'shup'.  From a very early age I remember my mum chastising me for being, as she put it, 'like a lost ship on a mountain'.  As a 4 year old this caused me great confusion as, even then, I knew that ships belonged on the oceans, not up a mountain...

And so it was, with great relish, that I found this week's exercises on the Access to Arts and Languages course were an introduction to studying regional accents, within the context of a recorded interview, and also the context of poetry.  We were introduced to a Peak District local and a Jamaican poet, which I found endlessly fascinating.

It feels good to be studying properly a subject area which I have always had an affinity for.

It feels, Blog, like I am back on home turf, having wandered the earth aimlessly for many decades...

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Eye of the Tiger

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Wednesday 7 April 2021 at 21:30

Dear Blog, am I prepared? Am I ready?

In 1908, Baden-Powell published an article in the magazine 'Scouting for Boys' expounding the philosophy that his Boy Scouts should 'Be Prepared'.

The business world has an acronym for it - PPPPP (or, the 5 Ps) namely, Proper Planning Prevents Poor Performance.

There is even a proverb - 'He who fails to plan, plans to fail.'

Thus far, the Access Module has taken us by the hand and walked us through many of the aspects of daily life that we need to look at, or in some cases alter, to enable us to be successful at not only this module, but also a subsequent degree should we choose that course.

It has advised us on the equipment we will need, supplied us with study materials, shown us the marks we need  to pass the module, and advised us on how to create the time and physical space within our lives.

I guess I am one of the lucky ones as I have already, over several years, been able to lay the groundwork (through my own self-driven literature and French studies) and prepare myself.  I have created the physical and emotional space in my little world to take this life altering journey on board.

But what about the mental aspect?  I mean, the mental strength that is needed to see this thing through to the ultimate conclusion? The sheer force of will that is required to maintain one's studying even though other parts of one's life may be increasingly challenging? Perhaps a marriage that is going through a rough patch, or problems at work that are putting your employment status on a knife edge, or even a loved one gravely ill in hospital?  My heart can only go out to those who will have to negotiate their way through these kinds of life issues, and wish them well. I will probably be one of them.

The OU is a fantastic organization, providing a wide array of support groups and couldn't do much more to support its students. But I know from personal experience that that kind of determination and will power can only come from within; the ability to 'play the long game' and keep your eye on the prize. I believe someone once referred to it as 'the eye of the tiger'.  Only when you get to the end, do you know that you have it.

So this will be as much a journey of self-discovery as an academic one.

I can only wish all of my fellow students the very best, and hope that they manage to achieve their dreams and ambitions.

(At this point, Li'l Cat ambles into my room, sits down, and looks at me knowingly in that way that felines do; the wisdom of the ages behind her piercing green eyes).

Am I prepared, Blog? Am I ready?  Oh, yes...

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Beginning At The End

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Edited by Nicholas Roy Butcher, Wednesday 7 April 2021 at 21:29

Dear Blog, if someone had said to me ten years ago;

'Nick, you will make it. You will do that English Degree that you've always wanted to do!'

I would have shrunk into a corner and told them that, no, that will never happen for me.  My default mindset was always 'I'm not intelligent enough. My memory is no good. I don't have the time. I don't have the money.'

Excuses. Procrastination.

But I have been on a journey, and if I have learnt anything about myself in the last ten years, then it is that I can do anything if I really set my mind to it.  I just wanted to write, you see; creatively.  So I set myself challenges.

First up - was I capable of writing a book?  Well, yes, as it turns out. I plotted and planned and read 'how to' books.  Then I typed. And typed. And typed. Ninety six thousand words later I had my book.  What a day that was! I was ecstatic.

Ok, it was the first attempt by a novice writer, and it wasn't a best-seller.  But I had proved that I could.

While waiting for the 'Manuscript Assessment' service at The Literary Consultancy in London to get back to me, I set about writing a children's narrative poem to keep myself occupied.  A friend suggested that I should join a writing group for support, encouragement and critique, so that was my next challenge.

Was I brave enough to join a writing group and share my work with other people, reading it out to them?  Well, yes, as it turns out.  They loved my children's narrative poem so much that they insisted I get it published, and knew just the person to help me with illustrations.  Wow.  I was overwhelmed.

That children's poem became 'To Squeak and Hattie' which is bewilderingly still listed on Amazon. Bewildering, because no one ever bought it!  But I didn't care, I was so proud of it...

I really love poetry, so my next challenge for myself was, am I capable of writing a sonnet?  Well, yes, as it turns out. While on holiday in the Lake District I set to the task of writing my first, called, appropriately, 'On Returning to Cumbria' which I am still very proud of, and I have written several since, including my own version of a 'Crown of Sonnets'.

Next challenge; was I capable of writing a villanelle?  Well, yes, as it turns out.

Meanwhile, back at the writing group, I was now the proud creator of no less than twenty four short stories, and I eventually had enough poems written to develop a poetry collection for publication.

I had come so far in a few short years, achieved so many things, but I still felt there was something missing.  I didn't feel professional. I didn't feel I knew enough about, or had studied properly, my chosen passion. So that got me thinking, could I do that English Degree?

So, sitting here in my lodgings gazing out of the window as a bitter easterly wind rushes down my road, my 'colocataire' pumping iron in the next room, my landlord downstairs chuckling to himself as he watches amusing YouTube videos, and 'Li'l Cat' curled up on my feet, keeping them warm, I realise that I am at the end of a long journey, but also at the beginning of another.

Am I really capable of dong an English Degree?  Well, yes...

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