creative writing

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Pass the Pins

My dad used to go to the pub a lot. I think it would be fair to say he liked a drink. As a child, I didn’t necessarily know where he was going, if I asked he’d only say he was going to ‘meet a man about a dog’.  I have no idea where that saying came from, all I know is that I spent many hours excitedly anticipating the arrival of a new puppy that never came.

On Sundays, he used to go to the pub while my mum and nan cooked a huge roast dinner.  We’d always have to wait for him to come back before we ate, but nevertheless we were always pleased that he went because the fish stall used to park outside the pub on Sunday’s, and dad would always come back weighed down with bags of shellfish for us to have for tea.

After the obligatory Sunday afternoon watching a weepy on TV from the floor while Dad snored on the sofa, I’d go and help mum and nan prepare the salad.  No fancy salad bowls brimming with multi-coloured mixed leaves and chopped vegetables for us. Oh no…our salad’s constituted:

a pile of lettuce leaves in a bowl

a pile of tomatoes in a bowl

Some very thin slices of cucumber in a bowl

Some cress in a bowl

Some full length sticks of celery standing up in a glass (how posh)

And a bottle of salad cream

These bowls would be distributed about our gingham-cloth covered table leaving space in the middle for the stars of the show, the shellfish.

Oh how I loved the messiness of the shellfish tea.  Getting pink prawn husks and eggs stuck to our fingers, shelling the scampi (fresh ones the like of which I’ve not seen since), using dressmaking pins to lift the grey ‘lids’ off the winkles and wheedle the curled fleshy bit out, and the peculiar yellow cockles, that looked like the result of a violent sneeze, yet with a shake of salt and splash of vinegar tasted like the finest gourmet food.

I loved to see my fastidious old nan digging in and getting just as mucky as the rest of us, even licking the fishy juice from her fingers like I did.  .

Afterwards, the bin would be full of the smelly shells, and mum would have to take the table-cloth out to the back garden and give it a vigorous shake to get rid of the stuck on bits of prawn antenna and legs, and winkle lids.

There was always salad left over, and more often than not the next day, all I’d find in my lunchbox was a cucumber, lettuce and tomato sandwich, with a stick of celery nestling alongside it.

Those days are long gone, and it seems that, these days, we have become over-sensitised to eating anything that looks a bit strange, or having to do anything as weird as wheedling out a winkle to get our food.  But I remember those family teas as a bonding time. It was the one time of the week, when we sat down and ate together, little was said, and we all got on.

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Better the Devil you Know

‘He’s impossible!  How am I supposed to do that?’ Connie said, throwing the phone down and nearly knocking her swivel chair over as she plonked herself in it, head in hands.  We all looked up, waiting for the inevitable teary tirade. We’d all had them since our new boss had started.

We had been so excited when we’d heard who was taking over as CE, chattering like baby birds waiting for a worm.

‘Have you seen him, he’s, like, really lush’ said Cerys, she had been the one to collect him from the main entrance for his interview. ‘Fancy suit an’ all.  Looked like a real gentleman.’

‘I heard he was worth a few bob already’

‘Young ‘an all, not all wrinkly an’ creepy like ol’ Dodders’

Our new boss, Aiden Donaghey was tall and tanned with a disarming smile and a soft Irish lilt, and we’d do anything for him at first, despite being told we must always call him ‘Mr Donaghey or Sir’ (unlike old Dodd who would creep up to you on your first day, put his arm round your shoulder and whisper ‘call me Malcom love, don’t want to be all formal here, do we?’) But it soon became clear that he was cold, overbearing and demanding, expecting us to work overtime at a moments notice, and taking on new projects willy nilly without a thought about who was going to do the leg work. He had absolutely no interest in our lives or worries, but just seemed to think of us as his skivvys . He’d reduced each one of us to tears, for one reason or another, within the first month.

‘Hmmph… why does he give me such impossible targets. If only he’d bloody well listen a bit like old Dodd did.’ Connie said gloomily ‘I never thought I’d say it, but I’m missing the old git now.’

‘Ah well, it’s about time you youngsters learned when you’re well off’ said Kathy who never missed an opportunity to remind us that she was the eldest in the office, by several years. It was she who’d eventually sacrificed herself to Dodd’s lustful advances and kept him sweet for the rest of us.

‘Well, I’ve started looking ‘round for somethin’ else. Don’t care what, I’ll do anythin’ to get outta this dump.’ Lauren didn’t doubt her ability to flirt her way through life, though Aiden Donaghey had given this theory a severe knock, having told her that her usual very short skirt and low slung tops were ‘not suitable attire for the office environment’ and no batting of false eyelashes was going to change his mind.

‘Well, I may as well start looking too, looks like I’ll get fired sooner or later anyway. No way I’m going to get this lot done.’ Said Connie waving her ‘to do’ pad with its long list of notes.

‘We’d all be better off out of it. Perhaps Doddy  would give us something at his new place? Or I could go back home…’ At first Cerys had often talked about ‘going back home’ to North Wales.  It had taken a while to settle down to life in the city, but recently she’d started dating and was enjoying being away from the suffocating closeness of the valleys. We all knew that going home would be the last thing she wanted to do.

Karen sat herself on the edge of Cerys desk.

‘Let’s think about this’ she said, always the practical one amongst us. ‘When he first started Dodd was a pain too. It took us a while to find a way to keep him, well, malleable.’ she gave us a one-sided smile and flicked her painted fingernail, making us all chuckle ‘we can sort our Aiden out, I’m sure.’

It was clear she had a plan.

Intrigued, we watched as she went back to her desk and fumbled in the drawer. After a minute or two of rummaging, she held up a small bottle of pills.

‘My happy pills’ she said. ‘We’ll start by keeping him quiet for a bit.’ She went over to where the kettle and cups stood on a spare desk at the end of the office, and dropped a handful of the pills into his ‘I’m the Boss’ mug. ‘I think he might need a cuppa right now, don’t you?’

Written as part of the Writing 101 challenge – contrast and compare using dialogue

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The letter – writing 101 challenge

Today’s writing 101 challenge was for a bit of brief fiction based around finding a letter.  Here is my attempt.  Hope it makes some sort of sense:-

It lay there, half submersed in a puddle. Dropped in shock from a shaky hand perhaps?

‘further investigation…  An appointment has been booked….. please bring….’

The time and date is in the coming week. An urgent thing then.

Whoever this was addressed to will need it, but the water has seeped across the page blurring words and making the letters weep inky tears.

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Three favourite songs – freewrite for writing 101

Apologies for lack of punctuation, paragraphs, any sense.  The challenge was a freewrite, so I tried to stick to that!  It feels a bit against nature to post this nonsense, but anyhoo.. here it is:

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Ah, music, one of my favourite subjects. Oh yes, I can rattle on about this for 15 minutes no worries.. I think, but this is a freewrite so we’ll go where my mind takes me I guess (hold tight, could be anywhere).   First song I thought about was My Girl, actually I always change it to My Girls, cos I’ve got twin girls and they do bring me sunshine every single time I think of them and I think of them a lot. They’re grown up now, doctors indeed ..I am very proud mum and throw that into the conversation as often as possible though when you are proudly boasting that your daughter is at medical school you don’t necessarily remember the risks this poses. One of them told me last week that she has to be fitted for special suit in case an ebola case comes into the hospital, it will be on her ward.  The other one had to deal with someone who had suspected leprosy.  Death and bodily functions are day to day for them. I’ve never seen a dead body, not in my entire umpteen very long years. Weird to think they have more life and death experience than me. Shouldn’t be that way round really.  Time of your life by Greenday is another song relating to my girls. I remember playing it for them when they went off to medical school at different ends of the country all their goods and chattels packed into plastic bags. I cried. Course I cried. I still get weepy that they are all grown up and independent. Well sort of independent.  They still need me occasionally.. We all need our mums occasionally, sadly though as they get older sometimes it’s us who have to take over the mumsy duties for them.  Making sure our loved ones are safe and well is darn tricky when it’s done from a distance like I have to do. it can get a bit depressing some times which happily brings me to my other favourite song ‘start wearing purple’ by Gogol Bordello. If you’ve never come across them, they are a Gypsy Punk group.  Their music is loud and bawdy, and makes me dance and smile every time I hear it.  It’s my go-to cheer me up song and we all need one of those occasionally.  Oh dear, I forgot to time myself.  Have I done fifteen minutes?  Don’t know, possibly not, but I have covered my favourite songs and I’ve been typing in a frenzy to do it my fingers automatically finding the keys as a direct extension of my thoughts.  Like playing the piano, though I can’t do that. Pretty hopeless at all musical instruments really, though I did play the Cello at school. I remember carting it home for practicing it was almost bigger than me, and then my mum and dad moaned because it was more of a screech than a tune.  No, I’ll happily listen to all sorts of other music (Jazz being the exception…I can’t stand all those notes being played in the wrong order..) but think I’ll leave it to other people to play. Gonna stop now fifteen minutes or no!’

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A loo with a view

I must’ve been in many, many, rooms over the course of my life, so when I was presented with this challenge, for writing 101, I thought ‘easy peasy’.  Problem is, my mind just went straight back to rooms which held bitter memories; the gaudy hotel room where I argued horribly with my daughter on the last day, blighting forever the memories of an otherwise perfect holiday. My nan’s cosy bedsitting room, the room where she had a devastating stroke which she ultimately died from. The living room where I sat, fingers in ears, to block out the noise from our horrendous neighbours. It gets worse, but I won’t bore you.

So I consciously turned my mind to happier times and places. I could write about our newly decorated sitting room, whose huge French windows look out across our, currently, lush green garden.  This year, the summer has been perfect – lots of sun, and lots of rain, so the flowers are plentiful, the vegetables are abundant, and the grass is green (though to be honest, it’s probably more moss and weeds than actual grass). The birds flit from tree to tree settling on the bird table in between, and I can see the red and blue striped hammock, strung between the apple and the pear tree, rocking gently in the breeze.

That seemed a bit of a cop out though. It’s just what I can see right now. No, to properly meet the demands of the challenge, I need to use the colours of my memory.

Now, I know I keep harping on about toilets.  So I suppose I shouldn’t go there, but yep, that’s where I’m going.

I think you’ll agree that toilets don’t usually have views.  It’s not the first thing you think about when you think about a loo.  They’re often windowless, or if they do have windows, they’re mercifully glazed in opaque glass.

The one I’m thinking of had a window alright.  A huge picture window.  It wasn’t glazed either.  Nope, just open to the elements.

It was in Goa, on a spice plantation.  It was a very hot, humid day in a very jungly plantation.  We’d had the tour, seen lots of things growing on trees, bushes, under trees etc.  We’d seen a man climbing barefoot up a towering palm tree to collect coconuts. And we’d been shown how to eat our yummy lunch, properly, with our fingers out of a banana leaf.  It had been a lovely, and interesting morning, but sooner or later the inevitable happened.  I needed a wee.

I think it’s fair to say that some of the public toilets in India can be a bit dodgy. Very dodgy. I’m pretty blasé about it these days and go if I have to.

‘hmm… you gonna risk it?’ asked my husband as we were pointed in the direction of a small thatched building up a flight of rickety looking steps.

‘you go first mum, see what it’s like’ said my slightly less adventurous daughters.

‘Ok, bursting!’ I said. I was getting a bit knee knockingly desperate.

The little building turned out to house just one toilet, surprisingly a ‘western’ one, which was situated in the middle of the left hand wall as you entered.  On the right hand wall was a hole in the dirt floor besides which there was a pail of water with a coconut shell complete with handle that you could use as a scoop, so that you could flush the loo and wash your hands.

The back wall was non-existent.

This took me by surprise a tad, as, underneath my shorts and tee shirt I was wearing a swimming costume, which I naturally had to strip right off to be able to ‘errmm… do my thing.

Frankly, I could have stayed there all day.  Set on a  high ledge, the loo overlooked a large pond, nearly a lake in fact, covered almost completely in huge white water lillies. The pond was surrounded by different varieties of palms, plants with man-sized leaves,  and hanging pink and purple flowers that I didn’t know the names of.  Birds were swooping about catching insects just above the water. It was quite the most delightful view I think I have ever come across.

Sitting there, on the loo, naked, caressed by a cooling breeze and staring out across that wonderland, which looked as if it had been created by some Disney cartoonist, felt very surreal.  I’m pretty sure no-one could see me, but there was a queue forming outside, so I couldn’t linger for too long.  However, the memory of that place remains with me as the finest, and most surprising loo I’ve visted…….so far!

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Let me introduce myself….

Well hello there.  Second challenge of writing 101 is to introduce myself. It’s proving trickier than I thought it might be.  Introducing myself.  Should be dead easy.  Do I want people to actually know who I am though? Is it enough to know I live in Nottinghamshire, England, and that age-wise I’m no spring chicken, but have actually never quite grown up? That as well as writing, I like music, travel, eating, wine, gadgets,yoga, flowers, fish, dogs, walking, reading, photography, watching movies, sleeping, …..(I could go on…) and that my family mean more than the world to me?

Do I want to write down on paper (well not paper exactly) what my blog is about?  Do I know the answer to that?

Well not really.  I started my blog a couple of years ago when I left my job.  I’d already been writing bits and bobs for a good long while, and had completed a creative writing course with the Open University.  I’d enjoyed it, and wanted to write more, maybe even publish stuff.  Anyhoo, started the blog to get me writing, concentrate the mind a bit.  And, to a point, it has.

I haven’t published any of my stories on the blog (I use it more for venting my spleen), but recently took the brave step (for me ‘cos frankly I’m more Pam Ayres than Betjeman) of posting some of my poems that had already been well received in the PoetrySoup community.  Also, almost due to pure laziness, I have started posting some of my photographs.  It’s quicker and easier than having to think of something to write especially when time is tight.  Besides, I’m rather proud of some of them.

So, whilst I try to post regularly, I can’t honestly say I have any particular purpose or theme.  I hope what I write is vaguely entertaining, and people can identify with at least some of it, but I realise that my writing needs to be brought back into focus, and with any luck writing 101 might help me achieve that.

Oh yes, and I want followers, lots more followers.  And people to comment.  It can get a bit lonely posting all this stuff and still not being noticed. Anyway, it’s amazing to know that my words are out there potentially reaching people from all over the world. I’m going in the right direction, let’s hope this new set of challenges will prove even more successful.