This week, I wrote this in response to an exercise to write something about the clocks going back or forward. Just a bit of fun for these challenging days.
Mum Don’t frget to put tour clocks bick.
Sally Will do. For God’s sake, turn on predictive text Mother.
Mum How di I di ths>
Sally Don’t you remember. I wrote it down in your book.
Sally Your notebook. It’s by your calendar in the kitchen.
Mum Is it/
Sally Go there and look. Don’t hang up!!!!
Mum I@m here.
Sally Mother. Where have you gone? Answer the bloody phone.
Mum Hi. Beck agin.
Sally Why don’t you answer when it rings?
Sally Your phone. Answer it when it rings.
Mum How de I de tht
Sally Remember, I showed you the last time I came over. Press the button with the green telephone.
Mum Wher are yu
Sally I explained Mum. There’s a problem with a virus. I don’t want you to catch anything.
Mum I dnt car. I wnt to di anyway
Sally Don’t be ridiculous. What would I do without you to remind me to put the clocks back.
Mum Lov yu
Sally You too, Mum. I’ll call you in a minute. Remember press the green telephone.
Mum Ar u thre.
Photo Prompt © magaly guerrero
Lindy in Trouble
Every week the hard-working Rochelle at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com organises photo prompts and links for the Friday Fictioneers. Authors write a piece of 100 word fiction, prose or poetry based on a photo prompt and exchange comments on each other’s work. If you are a writer of short fiction, join the group and let your imagination feed us with your stories.
I can not let this opportunity pass by without poking fun at my current status. My leg disappeared down a drain and I wasn’t wearing heels this time. Previously, they have been a contributing factor in other injuries.
One minute she was at my side, the next she was sprawled on the cobbled pavement.
‘For heaven’s sake Mother!’
‘Get up.’ Passing people glared. They’d understand if she was their responsibility.
I was tempted to walk away, but then sighed as I extended my hand.
‘I told you. But no, you had to wear those bloody shoes.’
‘Sorry.’ Her eyes filled.
I lowered on to one knee and patted her shoulder. ‘Never mind. Let’s dust you off and inspect the damage.’
She did that thing with her mouth and I knew we were heading to another hospital. Again.
As I am glued to the settee with my injury, I decided to start a story thread for a little bit of fun and see what happens. I will write the first two lines.
You carry on the story by inserting a line in the comments section of this post. The next person should follow so that the story evolves in the comments. Nothing that your mother wouldn’t want to read please.
Update on 19th April 2017 Thanks for the comments. What fun! I realise that I did not tell you how long we are going to do this. I’m going to finish the story one week from today on the 26th April and will put everything together in a post titled We Wrote a Story.
Here We Go
No one willingly invited Melanie for supper. Her reply was always accompanied by a list of allergies and food intolerance so concocting a decent menu required considerable time and a vivid imagination.
Earlier this week, I attended my new gym for a fitness assessment. I managed to stand on the scales (Horror!!) and endure the tape measure but within five seconds of starting the fitness part of the test, I tore a muscle in my calf. Even though I was shocked by the injury, this type of event does not surprise anyone who knows me – I am accident prone. My mother often retells a story of when I disappeared on to the ground after a meal in a restaurant and my daughter warned her colleagues at the sports holiday resort she worked at that they would recognise me when I fell down the airplane’s steps (I actually made it to the resort but promptly took a tumble and couldn’t do any sports the entire holiday). My future daughter-in-law was warned to look after me in Spain – I fell and broke my ankle giving her a guilt complex forever.
I have had injuries in some of the best places – a broken cheek in the Caribbean, severe leg injuries after water-skiing in Greece. I even broke my hand while working as a nurse in the Accident & Emergency department.
I once read that injury prone people are focused too much on what is coming instead of living in the present. Maybe I was trying to avoid an exposure of my level of fitness!
Oh well, the good news is that I am forced to stay put and write so my new novel should benefit.
Today I am thrilled that I am the guest blogger on Jenny Kane’s entertaining website, a perfect blend of coffee and articles about writing, books and life. Jenny is a talented writer living in the southwest UK and we connected through a Facebook group for local authors.
Click on the link below to read my article about how real life affects fiction writing.
Also at http://www.jennykane.co.uk
If I had a lot of time
I would offer up a rhyme.
Poetry is not my strength
My plots and thoughts need more length.
Forgive this poor attempt at prose
To the novel, this writer goes.
When Will I Come Down to Earth?
The countdown has begun and the dress fittings nearly finished. Eleven months have passed since the proposal and the day that the planning began. My daughter and her beau will speak in front of us all and I will clutch my square of soft linen, hoping that I don’t embarrass them with a sob, audible in one of the quiet moments.
Soon it will all be a lovely memory and my feet will touch the ground.
I will be sorry but also admit that I am looking forward to concentrating on book number 2.
Lessons learned are:
- mother of the bride outfits can cost more than the wedding dress
- you can’t convince a man that eyebrows, nails, make-up, hair, etc matter
- hats don’t suit everyone and feathers coming out of one’s head can look ridiculous
- money doesn’t grow on trees
- the heart does swell when your child is happy