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This is the first day of my writing on one hundred words. I think that it will be a very good way to make me write something everyday, and if I want to write more, I can just transfer to my notebook or on to Word. I have just finished a course on short fiction and feel sorry that it has ended. I had to submit a short story as my final piece. I enjoyed doing this and was not looking forward to the course ending because self motivation is always so difficult.This is one way to motivate me.
Six weeks of hot sunshine. Not bad for the UK.Just like most things it has its sinister side. Not much fun where the thermometer hits 40C plus. Data shouts from the dailies about deaths from heatstroke and asthma. In Japan a child dies returning from school .Sheep in New South Wales are shown starving, their ribs sticking out from under their skin. lengthy articles prevail on climate change. My guilt revives itself again as man is held responsible for destroying his beautiful planet.An idiot from the council mows a protected meadow by mistake. No butterflies in the garden.
It's best to be up really early in this heat. I was up before five this morning .I walked up the path to get a view of the sun rising.These moments should be special. The cat followed me making a fuss as if insulted that i had walked out on him without giving him enough breakfast! He put on a ridiculous display, jumping up at my legs looking down towards the kitchen and when i walked back down the path he kept looking back to make sure I was there. Then he didn't eat it! I saw the sunrise.
The apple tree is so laden with fruit that the whole of the lower branches have almost detached themselves and are almost touching the ground. Year on year it yields this amazing crop. it is the perfect image of an apple tree, red ,round apples. How we loved 'The Apple Pigs' pages laden with apples , The text interspersed. Apples in the kitchen, apples in the bath, apples on the floor. Apple pies,apple crumbles, apple jam, apple juice. Four cocktail sticks 2 red apples,6 toothpicks,2 silver ball makes one apple pig.The tree just sparkedthe memory of childhood
These first few minutes, staring at the screen are the hardest, then something comes into the mind and the keys get tapping and I find myself deleting the whole of this preliminary ramble. How is it possible not be able to find anything to write about when the mind is teeming with thoughts and the senses are being assaulted by sights, sounds, sensations. Seventh week of heatwave in the UK.Laptop is outside in the shade.There's not a cloud in the sky and the thermometer is rising as I speak. Christ! my word counter says ninety nine, one hundred.
The connection between writers and mental illness is disturbing. As I read more and more, I am beginning to get used to discovering that an author I admire and have researched committed suicide. One instinct of mine is to stop writing. Will this send me into another depression, or make me mad?Then i reflect on how the sensitivity acquired on a journey from depression is the key element in being able to write reflectively. I am about to start a new adventure.I am going to facilitate writing for others. For people connected to the Hospice.For Well Being.
Writer's block, heat, vibrant flowers in their tubs, birds on the feeders. 'Postie' has just been, nothing for me. When did I last have a handwritten letter delivered? The occasional birthday card, a whole lot of signed Christmas cards with a few handwritten messages. A letter is a precious thing. Four years ago I found a stash of them written by my father to his mother in 1941 describing in great detail how he trained to be a pilot in California.I found my father in these letters. A young man of nineteen years old. Leaving home. Going to war.
An Afro American served in the White House for the duration of six presidents. He was brought up in the cotton fields of the South and saw his father shot and his mother raped.
As he silently carries out duties in the White House, his son travels south involving himself in the freedom movement.Sixteen times arrested and escaping the burning of the freedom bus by the Ku Klux Clan.
As a silent observer his father saw this happen on JFK's TV.
Politics,race,anger, duty juxtaposed.
In the blind innocence of my childhood, these events took place.
It is raining today for the first time in two and a half months. The air smells sweet with it .The garden glistens with joy. People are sighing huge sighs of relief as the relentless heat subsides.
Soon we will be moaning about the cold and wet because we are Brits and the Brits are obsessed with the weather.
My runner beans won't moan, they will grow delicious long green pods that I can steam or cut raw for the salads until we are all sick to death of beans.
AS for the zuccinis.
I am tired and frustrated. Visited the Apple store in Regents Street today to buy a new iPhone and mini iPad . All seemed good. The assistant sold me the products and transferred as much data as possible. She said all i needed to do was to connect to iTunes and install the back up and everything would be wonderful. like hell ! here I am tired dejected and cursing at technology.
Life is the people who love you.No one will ever chose to stay alive for an iPhone. it's the people we reach via the iPhone that matter.
OMG I have to write this on my iPhone and the keyboard is tiny! I was told everything would be simple if I visited the Apple Store in Regentís Sreet. They would set up the new phone and iPad leaving me nothing to do. Like hell they did. The basic s were done but I could not connect to iTunes. The iPad did but I still donít have it operating properly so I have come away with just my phone. The words are getting written and iím Nearly there . I have overcome the obstacles done the task.
Still with the stylus and iPhone. I guess it will be easier today. Difficult day. Find myself totally exhausted and feel unable to contribute to the house sorting. Have had to retire while hubby is amazing in energy and positive contribution to house solutions. The pub with all the family felt like an intruding noise which I needed to get out of.
Tomorrow is another day. IKEA! Flat packs and making new beginnings. It should all be so exciting.
One and a half thousand people ran in the 10 K race this morning. an amazing sight.
It is so good to be home and surrounded by green instead of being in the city.
Just walking on pavements with traffic going by seems depleting. The IKEA job is done and the units are built. Creative designs have given them the world market in flat packs I guess.
The new neighbour is incensed because we have parked a car in front of his house. I assure him that we are leaving very soon and that our daughter will be very careful in future.
She should be happy there we hope, neighbours willing.
I actually used a "to do" list today. Something that is against my principles. I hate being tied to a rigid schedule. I like to do things as the moment moves me. If I am suddenly moved to message someone I do it .I find it surprising that keeping to the list can become a priority with people.If it's not at the top , then it cannot be done.
I will say that I ticked off a lot of jobs.
I was given a writing pad called "To Smash List" for Christmas. Today it got used.
Mr Rochester kept his mad wife in the attic.
The innocent governess fell in love with him and he with her.
How he must have prayed that the maniac would die without his secret being revealed.
Emily Bronte and her sisters sat round a table in a dark room on the Yorkshire moors in the 19th century. They wrote because they needed money and had made a pact to get these stories out.
How dark and fascinating they were.
We all have dark secrets in the attics of our minds.
It has rained continuously today. I walked into the park . The parched yellow grass is at last turning green again.
The nights are drawing in and it is dark by nine o'clock. I miss the heatwave and did not complain about it. I knew when it had gone the air would begin to feeling as if autumn is coming.
Those wonderful red apples on the tree are smaller than usual and the vegetables have struggled. I am still reading about unusual droughts and fires.
I wish I could be more optimistic for our planet.
A young woman of twenty eight was granted voluntary euthanasia for unbearable psychiatric pain in the Netherlands.
She suffered hell day on day and had been subjected to every treatment mankind has to offer.she had a death wish all her life.
She visited the crematorium as the day drew near and seemed calm .
Could she not have been offered some hope? So much of her life was ahead of her?
I fear she would have made it happen anyway,but does a doctor have the right to make such a decision ?
I am hoping Iím not going to moan! I donít want my first month of contributions to be negative! I am a depressive.I think far too much. This is why we write so that some of that thinking gets pinpointed and diluted somehow. Iíve left my computer in the hands of 24/7 geeks. Iím worried that they could be scammers.I googled them and they got mixed reviews but probably not criminals. Adrian has his ďOMGĒ face .The one that says ďWhat the fuck have you done now?
They have fixed it.
The punters poured in. "Art in Clay" was taking up most of the top field. About ten marquees full of porcelain pieces. Some extremely tasteful, some not so, drawing the comment "at least they had fun making it". A comment I adopted after visiting craft shows year after year.
I can't imagine standing at a stall all day hoping people will buy . I picture all the stuff I will have to pack up if it doesn't sell. I have friends who have done it. They give up.It's too much work.
I bought some class jewelry.
In my dream the sky had a light blue colour, almost sunset. Strange craft were in the sky, menacing. I felt sure as they hovered above me that a rain of machine gun fire was going to pour down on me. It didn't.
My dad was there, weeping, his head in his hands. I put my arms around him and I could feel him weeping for his losses. he had fought in the war and been told that heroes like him had saved us. We were now going to live in everlasting peace. Just look at the world today.
"Ships transmit messages across boundless waves, whilst the radio transmitters of Paris fire off messages in minutes to West African colonies," " and so on to the farthest reaches of humanity". "horrors easily transverse the entire cosmos".Stefan Zweig wrote in 1939 He feared that the sleep of the innocent was finished forever. "People whose sleep was untrammeled by disturbing dreams" still existed in quiet valleys and villages before technology brought instant news to all. He committed suicide in 1942, devastated by man's inhumanity to man. How would he have perceived the relentless instant communications we all live with in 2018?
They are coming in from Australia on Friday. The Whats App says they are both a complete mess! Do i really want to know that my son and his fiance are both completely knackered?"Book a tennis court for Friday afternoon" he says.
How I hoped that my belief in being gentle with ourselves would rub off on my children. They live life on the run. I say "what are they running away from?", but Adrian says "What are they running towards?" I am sure they are perfectly fine and in charge of their lives.
The class is great. we have been running since January. A stream of regulars turn up and are engaging in the qigong exercises with enthusiasm. We can see that the regular programme we have been delivering has been absorbed and is becoming habit.
This is a win win situation.Service users have been introduced to a new concept, staff have benefited by joining in and we have been given the privilege of facilitating and connecting with a group and further enhancing our practice.
It's the best thing I have been involved in for a long time.
Tim and Fran have arrived from Aus and it is great to see them.
I think this is really boring but I am going to make those one hundred words before I fall asleep.
we were watching "Suits" series 8 but I think I am bored with it. I only tuned in to watch Meghan Markle. She has gone now. Another fairytale princess?
She must be really pissed off by now.Who could take being part of our Royal Family? My idea of hell.
Did she do it just for the wedding ?
I am manically reading. There are an infinite number of books out there.
I regret the years I didn't have time to read and the years when my concentration wasn't up to it. Reading time seems so precious . i have even calculated the number of books I might get read in the years I have left.
Now I have done some writing I appreciate what an amazing work of art a well crafted novel is. To sustain a story with multiple characters and feasible plot and to write words that paint the picture is truly remarkable.
It rained the rain of Autumn today. I had forgotten what it feels like to have to put the lights on during the day. I never think the weather affects my mood but this greyness after all the blue and warmth of the last three months was quite marked.
I felt a dull thud in my gut and wondered what i would do with this cold wet Sunday when i could not just slip on my thongs and flip into the garden to look at the plants and sit peacefully under the apple tree to read my book.
The car park is on over spill. It's Bank Holiday. Families quarreling. Children misbehaving. Tense face everywhere. Sales are on, it must be fun. A man has lost his phone, his face is in despair. It's not in the shoe shop, he's searching everywhere. The bookshop is not crowded, I am happy there. A family come inside "Boring " a ten year old moans They take him away - The adventure Play area is humming. I spot two lads slumped in a play tower Exhausted they look, quiet and still. Would they rather be hiding in a cupboard
She showed me the marquee, the bunting, the invitation. I saw the stash of stuff stored at her house waiting for her grandson's "naming day". The same marquee is being used on Saturday for her friend's daughter's wedding. The proud bride's father constructed the huge tent himself with a little help . He is fitting the dance floor with boards he has bought himself. He has constructed the bar and will continue working relentlessly until the big day.
Why do i just want to get away from there, be quiet, and glad that it is not happening to me?
I dreamt a red bus sat in the sky.A passenger alights, glides safely down and lands. This is our new normality. The bus is not alone, war vessels fly, machine guns trained to the ground.
My sleeping mind perceives a madness in the world where nothing is impossible. A darkness shrouds this complexity where sleep is hard to find. World news travels with the speed of light, our brains cannot wind down.We fear inventions made to kill yet we hate and judge and fight. Our tribal brains are still intact, our simple skills forgotten. Brain overload!
He came to class this morning. We had not seen him for at least a month. He looks frail holding his oxygen bottle between his knees, tube attached through his nostrils.The heat had knocked him out and his breathing has deteriorated. He has asbestosis. He used to be a fireman and they wore masks made of the stuff before it was known what a deadly substance it is. He always has a smile and a joke. I fear that i would not be able to deal with it and would quickly fall prey to depression. Let him inspire me.
It has been an interesting month.Each day I have become less hesitant as I sit down to write . There is a huge difference between writing for an audience , and writing a personal journal. This online journal records personal reflections on each day of a month but it is not the type of journal we write purely for our own eyes. We may need to shred that if it become uncomfortable. This platform feels safe to me as there is an audience. Maybe only a handful of people. They are there but they are external,silent observers to our thoughts.
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