Home Sweet Home


Here’s what I came up with for Saturdays birdhouse picture 🙂

George lay down his chisel and admired his work. The small plain pine birdhouse lay in front of him on the kitchen table.

“What colour should we paint this one Sam?”

The black Labrador laying at his feet looked up when he heard his name. Then immediately put his head back down on his paws.

George eased his elderly frame out of the chair and bent, rummaging in the cupboard for his paints. He groaned as he tried to straighten.

“I think this one should be red don’t you? Mum liked red didn’t she.”

Sam scratched his ear and rolled over.

;

Several hours later George sat back and stretched. “This is a good one Sam, she’ll like this one. We’ll just have a cuppa, give it time to dry, then we’ll go for a nice walk.”

He filled the kettle and looked out onto the small green below the flats. Memories of his wife standing on the grass, throwing seed to the sparrows as she’d done every morning, played in his mind. She’d hated moving to this flat. They’d both missed their garden, the one they’d tended for over forty years. The one with the birdhouse George had lovingly made for Eileen, just after they’d moved in. Year after year they’d watched the sparrows raise their babies.

How long had he been alone now? Ten Months? Eleven? The tears welled in his tired grey eyes. He preferred remembering her like that. Not how she’d been in the final months of her life, when the cancer had taken hold.

;

Arriving at work that morning, Clare found her colleague Diane standing outside smoking a cigarette.

“Hi Clare…..look!”

Clare spun round and looked at the wall Diane was pointing to.

“Is that the bosses idea of brightening the place up?” Clare laughed.

“No, Jim doesn’t know anything about it. It wasn’t here before the weekend that’s for sure. My mate Sue told me about this, apparently they’re cropping up all over town, have been for about a year now.”

The two women stood, both deep in thought, looking at the small red box. They held their breath and watched as a tiny male sparrow alighted on the roof. It chirped and then was joined by a female.

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Photo from Wikipedia taken by Fir0002

Well, I tried, ok, it was sort of happy, but sad at the same time lol 😉 It must be awful when your spouse dies, when you’ve been together that long 😦

Ok, I’m depressing myself, and probably you lot too lol. I actually got quite upset writing this 😦

Let’s pretend that if I continued this story, George’s son calls him, they’ve just moved into a huge house and it’s got a lovely garden. They want George and Sam to go and live with them and look after the garden. Oh, and he’ll have his own granny flat. Better? 😉

Six Sentence Sunday 15th July


Today’s six sentences are from a prompt (using Judy Reeves book) I did earlier this week entitled “My real name is…..”

My real name is Jane, Jane Smith, but who remembers a Jane Smith? So for the past 5 years I’ve been Verity Delaney, which is far more interesting. In my previous life I was a housewife and mother. I spent my days cooking, doing the laundry and picking up my husbands underpants from whichever room he decided to de-robe in.

I bet you’re asking yourself what kind if woman walks out on her husband and two kids because she’s fed up with her life? A life she chose in the first place.

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I’ve been trying to practice 1st person recently. I was very anti it, but the more I’m doing, the more I like it 🙂

I wrote about 300 words for this prompt, not too sure where it’s going….yet 😉

The Prayer


Here’s what I wrote in response to Sundays photo 🙂

“Have you seen them?”

“Seen who honey?”

“The men, the men in the van.” She grabs my arm and digs what is left of her bitten down finger nails into my skin. I steer her towards the bed and ease her down gently onto the rough blanket.

“How are you doing Jan?” I ask. She turns towards the window as I prise my arm from her grip. “Has mum been in to see you?”

She remains silent and stares at the window.

“Jan, I miss you.”

She turns, a wry smile forming on her face and pats my leg. For a second, there is a flash in her eyes, a moment of recognition. A glimpse of my beautiful sister, the woman she used to be before this disease took over.

“Have you seen them?”

I don’t need to ask who this time. “I’ll come and see you next week Jan.” I stand and hug her, but she flinches.

I hold back the tears as I walk to the door and turn. She’s staring at the window, lost in her own world.

I make my way to my mothers room with the smell of disinfectant filling my nostrils. I pause at the door and wonder, when will it will be my turn.

There’s a whole debate isn’t there, on whether mental illness is hereditary. Not really sure where this story is going, or even what genre it is lol 😉 I think I’d have to do a lot of research into mental illness if I wanted to continue with it. It must be soul destroying to see someone you love end up institutionalised 😦

Sorry, hope I haven’t depressed you all too much lol 😉

Six Sentence Sunday 8th July


Oooooo, my first one! 🙂

Soooo, as you know, I haven’t exactly got a WIP at the moment, although I am currently working on a pocket novel for Sally Quilford’s Pocket Novel Course.

So I’ll give you six sentences from that 🙂

“Oh for heavens sake Danny, what is the matter with you? Can’t I even have a coffee in peace?”

Kate and Francesca watched open mouthed along with the rest of the customers as Harry stood up. His chair scraping violently against the floor.

He made his way to the sugar stand and grabbed a handful of serviettes. Rushing back to his table his eyes met Kate’s.

It’s a romance, can you tell? Lol 😉

The Lucky 7 Meme


Firstly…..thank you to everyone who commented on my IWSG post yesterday. I really value your support, and although I may have sounded a bit blasé about my decision, it was quite a turning point for me, a moment of release, but also a moment of regret. So thank you, for your understanding…..I can’t figure out if im being brave, pathetic or incredible stupid lol. I guess time will tell. 🙂

So now, for some fun, to cheer myself up lol

Whitney, over at A Serendipitous Happenstance has tagged me with the Lucky 7 Meme 🙂

I was also nominated by Paula Acton and as I’m a rule breaker, I won’t be doing it twice, especially as I only have one WIP, well, semi WIP lol.

My apologies Whitney & Paula, that I haven’t dealt with this earlier, but what with the holiday, life’s been a bit of a whirlwind lol

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Anyway, here are the rules…..

1. Go to the 7th or 77th page of your Work in progress.

2. Go to the 7th line of the page.

3. Copy the next 7 sentences or paragraphs. Remember, they must be as they are typed.

4. Tag 7 authors.

5. Let them know they’re it!

Obviously But Not Forgotten is not exactly the current WIP (see yesterday’s post) but I’m afraid that’s all I have at the moment lol 😦

So here are the 7 sentences 🙂

Ruby remembered how her father had always wrapped her up in cotton wool and she put this down to being an only child.

She slowed the car as she passed the office. Hopwood’s Chartered Accountants in big blue letters above the door. She remembered the day the shop had become available, how excited her father had been that he could now live and work in this beautiful village. He’d spent fifteen years commuting to the local town. Personally, she found it stifling, and couldn’t wait to break free. As a child, she’d decided that she wanted to be an Accountant, just like Daddy. After completing her schooling and university she had made him proud by joining him in the business.

Ha ha ha, well that couldn’t have been a more boring part of the 2nd chapter (hubby said I should have cheated!)!!!!! Lol….why the hell did I decide to write about Accountants? Lol….don’t they say “write what you know” and I know nothing about Accountants lol. And did you notice the clichés? *groans* lol

I Am Tagging:

Virginia at Poeta Officium
Ayesha Schroeder
Ava at Journey Or Jordanna East
Gail Aldwin
Josh Mosey
Laura at Quill Wielder
Robin Coyle

Please don’t feel obligated to take part, but as I’m sooooo goddam nosey, I’d just love to read a snippet 🙂

Out of curiosity dear readers What is the main profession in your WIP? Is it a job you’ve done yourself or will you need to research?

I had Accountants, Solicitors and Police in mine, none of which I’ve ever had any dealings with *groans* Lol 😉 A lesson to be learned I think lol.

In Service & Where I’m Guesting


I’m guesting over on Chris Stockings Blog today 🙂 So please pop over and read what I have to say about Inspiration A huge thank you to Chris for posting my ramblings!

Remember Sundays photo? Probably not, because it seems that WordPress had a paddy and those of you who usually receive my posts by e mail probably didn’t get it 😦 Bound to Serve – Elizabeth Mourant’s Bedroom. Well, i don’t know if you picked up on the title, and the furniture in the room itself, but, this was the bedroom that belonged to the house maid, sooooo, I decided to go with that 🙂

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“I Should Like To Make My Own Living by William Thomas Smedley (1858-1920)” Illustration via Wikipedia

Elizabeth opened her eyes as the early morning light filtered through the small attic window. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she thought about the endless tasks they would be expecting her to perform that day. Her hands were raw from scrubbing and every muscle in her body ached. At 19, she had already lost the rosey cheeked flush of youth, her face now sallow and vacant.

She placed her hand on her stomach and felt the flutterings of the life growing inside her. What could she give this child? What choices were available to her? There was a tap at the door and a whispered voice.

“Elizabeth, come on, it’s time to get up. Cook says if you’re not downstairs in 5 minutes she’ll tell the Mistress.”

Reaching out to the bedside table she clasped the small bottle she had taken from the gardeners shed. The dark liquid tasted of bitter almonds and made her gag as she swallowed every last drop.

Resting her head back on the feather pillow she closed her eyes and imagined being whisked away by a cloud of butterflies, to a fairy tale land, where she was the mistress.

Awwww, poor Elizabeth. It was a hard life being a servant/housemaid in those days 😦

Now….who was the father d’ya think? 🙂

The Tale Of The Converse


As promised, a little extract I wrote on Sunday, prompted by the feet picture 🙂

“Sophia Jackson! You get down these stairs right this minute!”

Sophia hated having an older sister.

“Sophia, I mean it, don’t make me come up there!”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming, keep your knickers on.” She made her way reluctantly to the top of the stairs and stared down at Annie’s red face. “What?”

Annie glared and Sophia found herself trying not to giggle.

“Where are my Converse? I know you’ve had them.”

“Converse? I haven’t touched them!”

It was always the same. Since Annie turned sixteen, two years ago, the four year age gap just seemed to be getting wider.

“Don’t lie to me, you’re always touching my stuff! I’m gunna get Dad to put a lock on my door.”

Sophia watched her sister flounce off down the hallway. Annie seemed to do a lot of flouncing, so Dad said. Sophia stood at the top of the stairs, listening to Annie wailing to Mum.

“Can you search her room, I know she’s got them, I’m meeting Tom in half an hour.”

Sophia appeared at the kitchen door. “Go search my room then, I haven’t got them!” She skipped off down the hallway and out into the garden, knowing full well that Annie would be on her way up to her room.

Dad was at the bottom of the garden putting the last of the autumn leaves onto a huge pile.

“You ok Soph?” He smiled.

Sophia knew she was his favourite.

“Do you want to light the bonfire?”

She nodded enthusiastically as Dad handed her the box of matches.

“Careful now, arms length.”

Sophia struck the match and bent down. Slowly the flames began to lick the old shrub branches and leaves. She stood back and grinned. For several minutes, they watched the flames take hold of the large mound.

“Oooo, what’s that smell?” Dad sniffed the air. “I don’t remember putting anything rubber on there.”

Sophia smiled sweetly and put her arm around his waist.

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He he he, I just don’t do nice 😉

For Sale


So now we’ve all recovered, finished doing our Ernest Hemingway impressions, it’s back to normality *picks party streamer out of her hair* 🙂

Today’s picture was taken in Rochester. At the time I was doing a treasure hunt on Flickr. You were given a list each week, and you had to take photos for each item on the list. It was great fun, actually, I’m not quite sure why I stopped.

Anyway, this one was for the clue “For Sale”

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Lots of scope there, but sometimes that makes it harder, don’t you think?

So what story does this image conjure up? I’ll share what I’ve written in my notebook tomorrow 🙂

She Lay Down Deep Beneath The Sea


Remember the picture prompt on Sunday?……well, of course my characters have to come with some backstory. I didn’t bother doing any description because you already know what they look like lol

Ellie & James

Ellie and James have recently moved in together. The situation being forced on them when Ellie’s stepfather threw her out for not being able to pay rent (and hence depriving him of beer money). James managed to find a pokey bedsit over the top of a Kebab shop in their local high street.

Ellie is 20, streetwise, able to look after herself, she’s had to. Since her father left when she was 8 she’s had many step fathers, most of which have only hung around for a few months. Loud and often offensive, she finds it hard to show her true emotions and suffers from low self esteem. She finds it hard to trust and comes across as a very angry young woman, her childhood has been hard. She loves James to bits, but can’t bring herself to tell him exactly how she feels. She can be cold, and often callous towards him, but can’t seem to stop herself.

James is 19, softly spoken, but cheeky and charming. His parents were horrified when he quit college to get a job so that he could move in with Ellie. He is a talented guitar player and at college was doing a course in Electronic Engineering, which would have led to a University place. He met Ellie in a pub 9 months ago and was immediately smitten. He loved how out going she was, and was drawn to how different she was from the normal girls he’d dated. All of James’ friends think he’s mad moving in with Ellie. They predict disaster and have warned James he’ll end up getting hurt. James believes he can rescue Ellie, show her love, and that he can make up for all the hurt she feels.

Today, Ellie has made James some lunch. He’s on his break from the local cafe, where he spends most of the day serving greasy fry ups to truck drivers. They argued last night, about Ellie’s lack of interest in getting a job. So today, she’s tidied the flat and actually got dressed (albeit in yesterday’s clothes) to show James she is making an effort. He’s pleased to see her dressed and believes her promises of spending the afternoon job hunting. But James has failed to realise the significance of the bottle of Vodka on the table.

When he returns from work this evening he will find her passed out on the couch, the empty bottle on the floor. He’ll fall into bed exhausted and wondering whether he’s made a big mistake.

Hmmmmm, ok, I think I was influenced with this, big time lol. I went to Margate yesterday, to the Turner Contemporary to see the Tracey Emin exhibition.

I always find Tracey’s work, not exactly depressing, but full of pain and so emotionally charged. I guess that’s because I know her background, what she’s been through. So by the time I got home and wrote about Ellie & James I was feeling, I dunno, reflective?

I think this is the painting that influenced James & Ella’s story:

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But there were lots of others such as:
Never Forget Me
Just to say Awake & Alive I thank you (painting of a woman laying on a couch)
I did not say I can never love you. I said I could never love

I could go on and on lol

On the wall at the entrance of the exhibition, there was a write up on what had influenced Tracey to do this collection. How an idea of trees in an olive grove when her father died had turned into how she felt, like being beneath the sea. Aren’t ideas brilliant? The way we can go from one to another to another and get to a point that is so detached from the original, but makes perfect sense.

Have you written anything recently that you can say was totally inspired by something specific? Would love to hear what you’ve been inspired by lately 🙂

Breakfast or Lunch?


Today’s picture is another drawing by Martin Karlsson, currently on display outside The Tate Modern. I’m not sure what this one is called, sorry, but I love it. He’s caught the action so well 🙂

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As I’m a huge fan of characters, rather than do a story for this one I’m going to do 2 characterisations….will share tomorrow 🙂

What story would you come up with for this pair? Would love to hear your ideas!