Something different from Nano

I've completed the Nanowrimo challenge several times so I'm doing something different.  I'm trying to complete the 'Story a day' challenge for May. Okay I know it's only the second day of the month but I have written two new stories.

Yesterday's has possibilities but it definitely needs working on. The brief for that was keep it short and write a twelve hundred word story. I failed. I did over sixteen hundred but by the time all the rubbish has been taking out of it, it should be twelve - well that's what I'm saying anyway.

However, today's story was different and a challenge that I set myself. The brief was memories. That in itself was a challenge because I've got fifty years of them and while I was thinking about what to write, so many of them came flooding back. Some happy, some sad, some nondescript, you know the ordinary things that for some reason the mind won't let go of.

Finally I chose one that I don't really remember a lot about, not visual images anyway but I do remember the feelings I had, which is quite strange because the incident happened when I was a small child living in Llantwit Major in South Wales.

The Queen came to visit and when I saw she wasn't wearing her crown and the horses had stayed at home, I cried and cried. Mum said I cried for days because she was wearing a normal 'queenie' outfit and was in a black car. I think I vowed never to see her again but I have, not at my behest though, I promise you that.

The challenge I set myself was to write it in the first person as if it was happening now with me, as a small child. I had to cut out words that I use now because I wouldn't have used them then. I do know that I could talk for England and was quite advanced in my vocabulary and my thinking but, I don't know if I succeeded with my self imposed challenge with what I've written tonight.

I've printed it off and will look at it on June 2nd, a month after I wrote it and then I'll decide. Could be interesting but I enjoyed the experiment.

And just one thing on my advanced thinking. While we were living in Llantwit Major my Mum gave birth to my little brother Stephen and she was in hospital for quite a while, so Nana came down to help Dad look after us. Gillian and I were in the sitting room playing quietly and Nana with the experience of both motherhood and grandmotherhood, got a bit suspicious as to exactly what we were up to.

She came in and found Gillian stark naked on the sofa with me resting my hand on her tummy saying in my most reassuring voice. 'Don't worry Mrs you're baby won't be long.' I was four years old and obviously I had worked out that babies weren't delivered by the stork or found under gooseberry bushes.

Nana was horrified. My Dad, he burst out laughing.

So what did you do today?

Me I totally wimped out. Rain and cold play havoc with the arthritis so I stayed in, swallowed pain killers and stayed warm.

But Terri and Mike, two friends of mine from Lydbury North Writers went on an adventure. Yes, totally mad, but they did. Terri and Mike are Celts and they 'act out' life in the Iron Age and today, in the pouring rain they greeted a load of school children at Hell Gate on the Wrekin in full Iron Age garb. Actually Terri did say last night she was going to wear her walking boots and not her Iron Age sandals but in these conditions I don't blame her. Today she wore a long, heavy wool dress so I doubt the children noticed.

But I've been thinking about those children because although it was an adventure for Terri and Mike, it was an even bigger adventure for them. Image, climbing a hill and suddenly to be greeted by people for a time other than your own. Imagine them leading you on to a world you have no comprehension of. Imagine them taking you into their existence, no modern day comforts, not even a duvet to crawl under at night but the harsh realities of life in a hostile environment.

There is a magic in those time. A few years ago I went to Castell Henyllis in South Wales, with who was then, a very good, close friend and they too shared the magic of the place.

Terri and Mike have stayed there and I was talking to them last month and Terri said, one morning she woke up early and she could hear voices and singing in a language she didn't understand. My, perhaps ignorant interpretation is that the village came to life,' I don't know.

But with the magic we found at Castell Henyllis and I really hope the children found today on the Wrekin, we as writers need to learn that our thinking, our understanding and our acceptance of all possibilities doesn't stop at the top of our skulls. We have a whole universe to think in and unless it's used, it is wasted.

And despite the rain - I would love to have been up there with today stepping back into a time forgotten.

Finished Product

Last year I wrote a poem and put it on my blog but since then I've worked on so I thought, seeing as I'd put all that effort in, I would inflict the finished product on you.

When I’m An Old Woman

When I’m an old woman I’ll eat ratatouille

and my house will smell of garlic and onions with

the aroma of olive oil and empty bottles of red wine

and bleach, toilet cleaner, old perfume and loneliness.

But with failing hearing I shall hear the phone

because day in and day out I’ll long for it to ring.

I’ll chat to foreigners who want to sell me

life insurance, car insurance and holidays.

Then I’ll put the phone down and hear the silence.

And I’ll dust and polish spick and span surfaces -

must keep busy.

I’ll welcome Jehovah’s Witnesses with joy

because they’re a voice and someone to talk to,

then they’ll go leaving me unconverted

and the Watch Tower they give will be screwed up in the bin.

I will watch the kids playing in the street

and moan when the ball comes over the fence.

I’ll threaten to burst it with a garden fork

because I envy their youth and their energy.

Then when the darkness falls, I’ll pull the curtains closed

and pray and thank God for another day he’s spared me,

but he’ll know, I’m tired, I’m old and I’m a liar.

Weekend discovery

The one who talks behind your back is the one who can't look you in the face.

Threatened with a holiday!

Yep. My doctor has threatened me with a holiday courtesy of the National Health. We're now fighting what she calls probable infection with antibiotics which are equivalent to Napalm to keep me this side of the doors of the Royal Shrewsbury Hospital.

Not a happy bunny!

Psoriasis is a funny disease because often I don't really show any traces of it but when it flares up, it goes all guns blazing. Basically what happens is normally the skin cells take 21-28 days to renew themselves, with Psoriasis they go on the rampage and start doing it every 2-6 days and the skin flakes, peels off leaving immature skin underneath - ready to repeat the process.

And me being me have the added bonus of Psoriasis nails which means the skin underneath the nails goes crazy and pushes the nails away from the nail bed until they fall off. It's not nice to look at and it's sore and painful to have. But don't worry if I shake your hand - you won't get it because it's genetic and not contagious. But if you decline - I will understand.

There are various triggers for Psoriasis and mine is stress. It has been stressful the boys moving out but it's a good thing because we all get on much better now and it's lovely to look forward to seeing them. It's been stressful with the housing situation. I have moved out of the shed but am now living in the remnants of what used to be my family home and that's horrible and it's stressful not knowing when the situation will be rectified - unfortunately that's not down to me but down to bureaucracy that haven't a clue what they're doing.

It's been very stressful waiting for that knock on the door, the one I've been threatened with because of a certain action I took which I had no choice over. It's a long story and I'm not going to go into it but it's caused a lot of stress, pain and upset.

And now just to make matters worse - well do I pack a bag or not?

Hopefully these antibiotics will work because I certainly don't want to go back to the RSH after last time. So let's hope poorly paws and scabby Sue get back to some normality soon.

Yes you've guessed it - a bit down today and the weather well that certainly hasn't helped either.

Ultimate betrayal

It would be nice to think that when times are hard and stress levels are at their maximum that those closest to you would offer you their support but this never happens with me. And recently this has been proved yet again.

Hey Sue - you're on your own.

Despite everything that is going on I'm trying to give up or at least cut down on smoking. I've lost count the number of times I've tried before and failed but I've always hung on to the never give up trying theory.

But today - it was the ultimate betrayal.

I popped into the kitchen and came back to find this....

The computer having a crafty cigarette!

Writers, artists and emotions

As writers and artists are we afraid to show our emotions through our work? I know some writers who are and some who aren't. I fall into the latter category and have often sat at my computer sobbing over the keyboard.

Today I've been rewriting and revising my novel and I've been focusing on the aftermath of Tina's husband death. That time she stood at his graveside as an empty shell and let all her love pour into the coffin, leaving her with nothing. But you know I haven't written it as well as I know I can because some emotions, feelings I'm a bit scared to revisit.

Recently I lost someone close to me and the grieving process has been incredibly difficult and although I'm not there yet , I know I will be one day and the sights, sounds and memories will make me smile, not sigh when I remember them.

So Tina, I am sorry and I will get it right soon.