Thursday, February 23, 2012

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Seven is a magic number

I’ve recently
received two awards for my blog. Both ask me to write seven things about myself
but I’m not going to bore you with fourteen. I’m cheating and giving you seven
and, after much consideration, I’m going to think of seven things from when I
was seven.
When I was seven I told my teacher I was going to be a writer.
When I was seven my grandparents took me on holiday to Babbacombe. We stayed at a guest house run by a Mrs Vanstone and her house had a golden doorstep.
When I was seven I fell of my bike, bit a hole through my tongue, split an eyelid in half and got called Scarface at school. (Later I had cosmetic surgery.)
When I was seven my Dad took us to the Clent hills where there is a circle of standing stones. He told me that if I touched them all and made a wish it would come true. My wish was that I could fly and I ran down the hills, flapping my arms. Sadly nothing happened.
When I was seven my Dad told me it was a magic number and to prove it we counted waves because the seventh one is always the biggest.
When I was seven and had a really bad cold my Dad took me to the Malvern Hills (where I now live) and said a walk over them would either kill me or cure me. I chose the second option.
When I was seven I believed every word my Dad said. He made childhood fun.

And now I'm supposed to hand the awards to several other people but, sorry, I can't think of anyone who hasn't already had them. If you'd like one, or both, please feel free to take one.

Friday, February 17, 2012

I wish it was for real

Computers often come up with scary messages. Twice I've had the blue screen of death. I've had 'all files being dumped'. Why can't Microsoft come up with sensible messages like this one?

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Did you miss me?

It’s been a while.
It’s one of those times when life got in the way of writing. Or health
to be precise. It’s not easy being stuck like a question mark for weeks but, on the positive side, if I’d never had a bad back I would never have sat down long enough to write anything. And I've had a bad back since 1970.
I’ve been reading. Read One Day by David Nicholls which was our Book Club choice for this month. I cheated and did something I usually never do – read the last page to find out what happened. But David Nicholls had the last laugh because what actually happened was a chapter or two before the end though you need to read the rest of the book, if you haven’t already done so.
I caught up on a pile of magazines, two of them being People’s Friend and My Weekly in which my stories appeared. And I read Sue Johnson’s inspiring book, Creative Alchemy - 12 steps from inspiration to finsihed novel. This one is a small book with the most gorgeous cover and it is filled with inspirational ideas and exercises, not only for writing novels but for short stories too. I haven’t put it on the bookshelf yet because, now that I can sit upright and stand straight, I
intend going back to it, this time with pen and paper to do those exercises. Yeah, and I’ll do the physio ones too.
Off for a stretch!