Autumn sunshine. When it’s caught in the mist, or peeping over a cloud, there’s something magical about it. Have taken these photos recently. I like them – hope you do too.
The final goodbye – a self indulgent offering to a very special cat.
Shona – the one on the left of the photo.
Saturday night.
An out of hours visit to the vet. Knowing that this time, I wouldn’t be bringing home a dopey cat. Trying to get hold of my son who was working as I knew that this time, it was it. That sick feeling inside that all pet owners get when you come to the end.
One small cat.
One pretty little girl who has been in our lives for 16 years. Who has been one of the gentlest, most loving little sweetheart (unless you were wildlife of course). The one who was the most adventurous of the litter she came from: the first one to jump into the loo.
The runt of the litter.
She who had run round the room when I went to look at them. Run round the room, then jumped up onto my knee, up on my chest, curled up and went to sleep. The one who chose me.
As I type this, her brother who appears lost without her, is wrapping himself round my legs, as he did on that summer’s day 16 years ago. They always slept wrapped up closely together. Chased each other round the house in that way that cats do when they’re imitating small elephants.
She had lost 2 lives – once when a car hit her, once when she somehow had her stomach badly cut. Yet she survived those issues. So delicate and perfect, she only started getting a bit rickety with arthritis recently as cats do. A bit unable to jump as high, bunny-hopping down stairs, but able to terrorise us at the dinner table with her shark impression, especially when it was chicken.
Her speciality was the morning wash. Not of her, but of us. I think it was a (not so) subtle hint to get up and feed her and her brother. She was also a bit of a trollop with any men who came round, who might have been slightly sweaty or wearing strong aftershave. Boy, did she like them. And they liked her – she would enchant them with her size and demeanour. Cute, but sassy.
All of these things wrapped up in one very small, very loving bundle.
The prettiest girl in the world, who is no longer with us. Her brother is patting me now as the tears flow once again.
Please, raise your glass, or cup, or mug or whatever you have to had to my Shona.
My pretty girl. My beloved little one. Who has gone.
Feedback!
Last week two – no three – things happened that are writing related that put a big smile on my face. This may sound like blowing my own trumpet and that is not something I’m particularly comfortable with, so bear with me.
First: I got a rejection from an online magazine for a piece of poetry I’d submitted. Fair comment, it probably didn’t work for that particular magazine. It may for the next one. At least I’d heard back very quickly which was nice. Did it sting? No, not really. I guess it’s always the chance you take when you put your work out there. Did the piece suck? I’ve no idea, but I’m putting it to one side for the moment. The important thing was that I had tried.
Second: I submitted a short piece as part of the #geowriting September-long writing-fest in response to a geographical prompt. See here http://www.geo-writing.com/ for more information. It was really nice to be accepted and featured online. Even nicer was someone contacted me on Twitter to say they had liked the piece.
Third: I felt encouraged by the acceptance to try out a short horror story I’d submitted elsewhere and been knocked back about. I popped it on here and publicised it on Twitter a couple of times. Some “favourited” the piece, some re-tweeted, and some said they liked it. What a lovely boost to my writing confidence.
So why am I blogging about it now?
Well, if I read a book that I really like, I now try to find the author, whether on Facebook or (more likely) on Twitter to say thank you. It doesn’t take much to do and I know how happy I felt last week on receiving the positive feedback.
Please, if you really like a book or a blog or something literary (like a poem), say thank you. It makes the author/writer/scribbler so very, very happy.
Music to my ears
I wish I’d been able to warn them. Well the human part of me did.
“She’s catatonic. We’re not quite sure why.”
I was listening.
Listening for the music that was the warning of things to come. Music that only I appeared to hear. For those surrounding me, I was to all intents and medical purpose locked into a vegetative state.
“There’s no response. We’ve done so many tests. No response from her whatsoever. I’m sorry. There’s nothing more that we can do.”
Eyes flickered behind shadows, belied the diagnoses of doctors, condemnations of me by those who should have known better.
“Should we consider moving her to another hospital? We can afford to pay. We have insurance that will cover it.”
Betrayed by my own dad. He, of all people, should have known what I was listening for. I heard him holding back the tears, breathing heavily, trying to control himself.
“Well there is a place. I’m just not sure they’d take her right now. I’ll make a call. If you’d like to wait here for a few moments.”
Click. A door closing.
Again. I heard it again. That subliminal sound. Right at the top of the range, almost outside human hearing. I heard it. Minutes passed with it boring its way into my brain. The final note now fell into place.
A chord, heard only by those who had been infected, calling us to battle. That’s what I’d been listening for.
Click. Click. Click. A door opening.
Yes, you’re in luck… they said they’d take……”
In the room there was silence. The eerie silence you get when the monster within finally explodes out of and kills. The silence of shock and horror that is unable to utter a word, nor scream.
The invasion began.
Itch!
Life for me is going to change very shortly.
After a long period of searching for a job, I finally managed to find one. The frustration of not hearing after submitting the application form, or of just being pipped at the post is behind me. A definite cause for celebration. Instead, it’s been the new frustration of waiting for a start date. Now I’ve got that too.
I’ve been struggling over the weeks with the waiting and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was bothering me. Then I remembered: it was like being back at school in the final couple of weeks of the summer holidays. Do you remember those days? You loved being at home, just doing nothing or hanging out with friends. Then you get that itch. The itch of boredom, when you realise that you’re missing something, but you don’t want to admit what that something is. Until it sneaks up on you that you really want to get back to school.
That’s where I am now. Kinda bored, kinda itching to get started. Certainly, kinda worried about getting into a new routine, with new people, a new role but also excited. Yet calm. That long-lasting itch of wanting to belong is about to be scratched.
I can’t wait!
Barry the Duck has landed!
Dear M (and J)
I am here!
I am here!!
I am so excited to be here. I’m even more excited about seeing you for the first time and being able to cuddle up with you.
The journey was really very long. It seemed to last forever and I got quite anxious (worried) about the amount of time it was taking.
Never mind that. I’ve f-i-n-a-l-l-y arrived and I am so looking forward to being your friend.
Lots of love
Barry xxxxx
Tales from an #fp tweet
He loved summer.
It was then that all the girls abandoned the dull thick tights and heavy shoes of winter. The sun brought out the legs. Legs in shorts, legs in skirts, sandals, flip-flops, legs with tattoos, some with none. Oh he loved them all. That exposure of skin brought out the best and worst in him. Sometimes he would go to the beach and just look. A voyeur, yes. But one with taste.
It was look but don’t touch.
Until that day, on the bus. He saw her. Tall, leggy, all in white. Truly beautiful. He watched her move towards the door and he looked down. Her choice of nail varnish knocked him for six. Swept away by a pink so shocking he could hardly breathe. He just had to follow her…
For a Special Little Lad :)
Dear M
Someone pressed a button today. I am so very happy as this means I get to travel, meet someone new and (hopefully) be loved. I have been sitting here waiting for this big moment for ages, so I hope you don’t mind that I want to let you know how excited I am.
I couldn’t sleep last night, knowing that I would be on my way to you. I’m not a grown up, so I don’t know the way and really don’t know how long it is going to take me to get to you. It may seem like forever, but it really won’t be so if you get a bit worried about this, ask your favourite grown up to email me and I’ll see if I can write again.
I understand that I might remind you of a recent loss. I am a new friend for you. Not to take the place of, but to be an extra friend to try and help make things better. When I get there, I realise I might make you cry a bit when you remember why I’m here. I don’t mind getting wet… well because I am nice like that.
I’m not big. I’m not small. I’m just right. Not better, just slightly different. I’m really open to being your new friend and so hope that you will be mine. In fact I’m looking forward to having a really good cuddle with you. Cuddles are one of the best things in life and I know someone who is really good at very big squishy cuddles, the kind that take your breath away, so I’ve been practising very, very hard.
I think you are never too big for a cuddle – ever! Sometimes people call them hugs, but I know the difference and I hope you do too? When you give a hug you get one in return. Not many people realise that, so you need to tell them, it will make them smile.
I am hopping about a bit now as I’m getting excited again.
Looking forward to meeting you very soon.
Big hug!
Me
#Heartsoup – Howling Leaves
L e a v e s
Stripped from trees
Naked trees
Piles upon piles
Lying on the ground
Like Discarded clothes
Flickering this way and that
Whisked and flattened
Waiting for the call
The wind
hums, whistles, calls and shouts
Rising rising
Bearing up the burden of
Leaves dancing
Dropping, spraying
Staccato swirling taps
Howling Leaves
bemoaning their fate
Until
Silence
The dance ends
Just a bit of poetry
She leaves her shoes on the beach
And dances, barefoot,
Like foam dances across a wave
Light, airy and free… pic.twitter.com/l4igFCfsnp
— Marj (@whithernow) August 19, 2014
Marj's writing 