Err, come again?

I'm on the hunt for a flat again. Two weeks ago, my landlord informed me that he wants to move into my flat. At first I was a bit in shock, because with a few other things going on in my life at the moment, I really didn't have moving on my radar. It's probably the Universe delivering, because haven't spent that super cold winter in my flat, had me wishing for a different place and I remember saying that I really want to move out in summer. There you have it, Stella, I thought to myself. Even if this wasn't on my own account. I love hunting for flats and viewing them; packing all my stuff and moving out, I hate. And don't get me started on the 1000 screws that hold the vivarium together! But it needs to be done--no way around it. This time, I feel that flat hunting is particularly difficult: it seems the scams on Gumtree are dominating what once was a great site to find a new place to live. I've found both my flats on there in the past and never had bad experiences.

Okay, I stumbled over some scam beforehand, but I'm switched on and sniffed it out immediately. I wonder if it really works; are people really that naive? Then again if it wouldn't work, those scam ads would become less, not more, wouldn't they? How low can you be as a person to rip off others by using their hope to find a nice place with good value? Pretty shoddy if you ask me.
Not really shoddy, but very cheesy was what I've experienced recently. I went to see a flat and the landlord was lovely. I mean in a 'I have a really nice landlord' kind of way. The flat was in quite a bit of a state, which I pointed out to him: I think the people who'll live there over the winter will need wellies when entering the flat, and a big wallet to pay for heating. Nevertheless, the landlord seemed laid back; I like it when they leave me alone and fix things when I tell them they need fixing.
To cut a long story short: I didn't get the flat, I guess he sensed that I wasn't as interested and let it to someone else within an hour. He then sent me an e-mail, informing me about it, but said it would be nice to stay in touch. I thought it was a little odd, but since he has more flats, I thought maybe he meant in case I hadn't found anything, and one of his  flats would become vacant.
Then he said he's around Finsbury Park a lot and if I fancied a drink I should give him a call.
What a peculiar thing to do. I then checked out his (empty) Facebook page, which he mentioned in the other e-mail an his profile picture of a topless man made me laugh. This guy is seriously on the prowl, methinks.
No, man, I just want a flat.

Mamachari--is it edible?

Noah at work

The short answer is no, but you can use a mamachari to get your grocery shopping home safely and without much trouble. That is if you're into cycling. Mamachari comes from Japan and is a bicycle. Just recently I learned that in the Print House in Ashwin Street in Dalson, in the building where the roof park is, a new bike shop has opened, and the curious woman I am, I had to sneak a peek. Needless to say that owner Noah and I ended up having a chat about bicycles. The poor sod had to learn everything I know about Viscount, when all he does is sell Japanese bikes. He took revenge in educating me about the mamacharis, which are Japan's everyday bicyles, for men and women alike, simple, sturdy, and forgiving. He says the Japanese took a close look at the Germans, the way they build the bikes and the value for money ratio, then went and copied it--with great success. And I must say, the bicycles have their charm. I even threatened to buy one at some point. That's the thing about cyclists or people who deal with bicycles: I feel that whatever they ride, they always get on and they always have something to natter about.
Noah's been pretty busy preparing his huge load of mamacharis for sale, servicing them--and by that I mean,

Mamachari London

taking them apart, checking, correcting, repairing, cleaning, etc., to make sure they're safe to ride. I know that because I've watched him while we chatted. He's a decent guy who wants to share his passion for those bikes while he's re-living his time in Japan. The good thing about the mamachari is that they're of good quality, but at an affordable price and he's committed to the Japanese philosophy: everyone should be able to ride a bike, no matter how little money. All he wants is for people to have a reliable bicycle and enjoy the ride. Becoming rich doesn't seem to be on his agenda, which makes it all the more interesting to talk to him. He's also been very helpful when I showed him my slightly damaged axle from the hub I recently ... err ... worked on. Noah's a guy who likes a challenge and has a lot of experience, paired with patience. That means that there's a steady stream of people coming into his shop, whether because they're interested in the quirky Japanese bicyles, or they have a problem with their bike. He knows just as much about a 70s racing bike or a modern hybrid. I, for once, wish him that his shop and the mamacharis make it big in the UK. And, if you're ever in the area, pop in and say hi, you may even meet me there.

Sour grapes? Damn right!

I've been vaguely following a former client's progress from the manuscript I edited, to the complaints about my not liking anything about her book or the writing, to her marketing strategy of making as many friends as possible; the blowing smoke up each other's arse behavior, to final publication with a no-name publisher, that, in my eyes, doesn't do anything different to vanity publishing.
The book has got already more reviews, of course most of them positive, as author buddies tend to do that to 'help each other', than my six books combined. Okay, not more, but definitely quite a few. I remember criticising the novel heavily back then, ending up hurting the author with my brutal honesty, but then, if I'm beating around the bush, the message may not get delivered. However, what winds me up is the 'lovely-dovely' approach of those reviewers. I keep thinking they either have no brain or just aren't brave enough to tell the truth, unlike the few unconnected reviewers, who seemed to have stumbled over the book and didn't like it one bit. They point out exactly what I pointed out back then, which means, most of my advice was ignored.
It's worrying that those authors, who can't seem to find fault in a story full of irrational actions, have probably published their books, too; I wouldn't expect those books to be readable. The self-publishing industry exists of a thick carpet of unreadable shite, and underneath this thick layer are some readable ones, and very few gems. Gems I kept missing.
Anyhow, back to my sour grapes. It annoys me immensely that if you speak up and voice an opinion, authors have nothing better to do than sabotage your books by writing negative reviews. Although I expected it to happen, because people are like that. And sure enough, the negative reviews started to come in when I began with my quest to shake the world of self-publishing to improve the overall quality. I suspect even a well-known review site couldn't resist to feel prejudiced. Ha! That arrogant bitch, who thinks she knows it all--let's give her something to chew on. (I hope you're feeling better now that it's out of the way.)
Good thing that I have another book published under a different name, so the book could be judged on merit. Unsurprisingly (to me) the book gathered mainly positive--some of them even raving---reviews. Which proves to me that I'm doing something right.
Believe it or not: I put a lot of effort in my books; to me, writing is pain. At least most of the time. If I have a burst of  ideas that need to get out, it's a wonderful and enjoyable moment, but they're rare. Very rare. I write to challenge myself, while entertaining my readers. Therefore I'm slow, carefully creating a plausible storyline, as well as real characters, in addition to keeping readers on their toes by adding some delicious surprises. And I have a mix of different beta readers who'd slap me straight if I'd presented them with something they wouldn't buy. It never happened so far, for I'm eliminating anything that doesn't make sense and rewrite it before they get to read the first draft.
End of January, the pain was too much for me and I had to stop writing and enter the longest break I've ever had. Perfectionism is a bully, and if I can't deliver a perfect story, I'd rather stop. Silly me, right? Might as well go and make tonnes of author friends and kiss their arses so I can write some shite novel that will get the positive reviews and sell, too.

Some serious cute alert

Taken today and had to share it, because it's just that: cute.

El Zorro, which translates to 'the fox'

Zorro's mating season was short-lived this year and I'm really, really glad about that. Although I'm slightly worried about the amounts he eats. I always remember my little girl, who was tiny compared to him and, consequently, didn't eat as much either. This iguana, though, is always hungry. I feed him a huge plate of food twice a day. Mainly spring greens, grated butternut squash, rocket, coriander, nasturtium leaves and flowers and bean sprouts, and fruit. Every time I come with the plate, he's falling over his own feet and dewlap to get to the feast as quickly as he can. Very funny to watch. It's good that he's got such an appetite; it means he's healthy. And he's growing again. As usual, he's only shedding at his head, which is still the strangest thing I've ever witnessed. It seems I don't need to go hunting for the unusual, the unusual finds me. That applies for animals and bikes. And, I guess, also to writing. None of my books are really straight forward; a fact that makes me quite proud.
Talking of writing: I think I'll share some surprising news some time soon. Watch this space.