Wildernesses, tractors and poetry

Have had rather a peculiar day today - it feels most unsettling, though perhaps I'm just overtired? As it were. Or maybe it's the existential shock (if shock can be existential) of having to go to work tomorrow. Heck, I'd only just got used to being off. Anyway, the lovely news is that All Things Girl webzine have accepted my short story, The Wilderness Room, for publication in April, so that's cheering me greatly through it all. I'm especially pleased as it is rather off-the-wall as a story, so I wasn't sure they'd like it - I'm so glad they do! I'll let you know when it's up on their site, and would love to know your thoughts. And, of course it rather helps to make up for the two rejections I've had over the weekend for other stories, which I've turned round and sent off into the ether once more. While I was in the mood, I've also submitted some more poetry to a new magazine, so we'll see how that fares.

Talking of matters literary, here's this morning's meditation piece:

Meditation 97

Something about snakes:
dark poison seeping
through the blood,
swallowing life

piece by piece,
the onward fragile journey
of us all.
And then the bronze

serpent glinting in gold light
high on its distant branch
as evening drifts in.
Think how its empty eyes

echo the healing moon.

Bizarrely, Lord H and I actually saw a grass snake when we ventured out for a little pre-lunch stroll this morning, so obviously it's a day for snakes. In all shapes and sizes. It's also a day for tractors - I've written my third ever haibun and it's about ... um ... tractors. I'm not entirely convinced about it, but hell it's there. And sometimes that's all you can really say about a piece of writing. I suspect I'll have to think about it again later. But not today.

I've also managed to write another 500 words or so of Hallsfoot's Battle and am beginning to work on end scenes. That's not actually because I'm there in real-time (so no need to cheer) but because I'm leaving the very difficult and wide-ranging (well, one hopes, eh ...) battle scenes and jumping over them until the end. Ah the joy of not having to write in linear time - sometimes that's a lifesaver for cowards like me who haven't got the nerve to face the tricky sections yet. I think I'm going to have to feel strong in order to do them. Ah well, don't wait up, eh.

This afternoon, I can feel the siren song of a nap calling me, and I also feel an urge to do a puzzle or two. Though I do have to prepare my homework for next week's Bible study or I won't have a clue what's going on. Not that that's ever stopped me having an opinion, of course, and the right opinion at that. Ho ho.

Tonight, it's the return of the glorious Lewis on TV, and I'm so looking forward to two hours of murder, charm and gentle wit to round off my Sunday. What more could you ask for?

This week's haiku:

The calm morning brings
a day of gardens and song
drifting through the skin.

Today's nice things:

1. Short story acceptance
2. Poetry
3. Hallsfoot end scenes
4. Napping
5. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - a snake in the grass is worth two in the bush ...

Is that snow I see?...

Goodness me, what a terribly terribly snowy world we've woken up to today. This isn't what we pay our taxes for, you know, and it's certainly not the reason we live in Surrey. Shocking, my dears, shocking. Especially shocking was the rather foolish journey Lord H and I attempted to make in the car to get to the doctors for our 9am jabs appointment. Well, we thought that once out of our own road, the main roads would be better. Um, my, how we laughed. Or rather didn't. Actually the whole experience was really rather terrifying and I am still languishing on the sofa taking a regular dose of smelling salts ... Suffice it to say the following: at last the 4X4s here in the shires come into their own, we never made it to the doctor, we finally shuddered back into our parking space 50 minutes after we'd left it (it's a 5/10 minute journey to the surgery), and Lord H is an utter and absolute superhero for (a) not panicking, (b) not killing anyone, (c) driving like a genius - a calm one. He is definitely my Hero of the Week. Big-time.

Back in the relative safety of home, we discover that the University is in fact closed, very few people have arrived at Lord H's office and the doctor is only taking emergency appointments today due to the fact that they're not in either. My, how very jolly it all is. And strangely magical. It's like a day off for Britain. And goodness me, how we do need one of those. The magic of Candlemas Day indeed.

Anyway, once we'd sorted ourselves out and had a reviving hot chocolate, Lord H and I togged up with wellington boots and our birding jackets and went for an absolutely superb walk through Godalming woods and back along the High Street. I am usually a stalwart enemy of the evil snow beastie, but today it's like being young again. Everything is so peaceful, people are talking to each other and, hark, is that a bluebird on my shoulder perchance? Ah, I feel a song coming on, and I shall endeavour to suppress it for the sake of my habitual cynicism and the sensitivities of my reader ...













Ooh and mustn't forget this morning's meditation poem:

Meditation 63

One bird is killed
and the other flies free.
There is always a choice.

It is decided
before you know it
while the cedar wood,

blood and oil blend
over your skin.
Carry your happiness

through the fields
like a bird.
Leave the dead behind.

I've started a short story about branches and what they can do. To one particular man anyway. I've done about 500 words so far and am quite enjoying the journey. It could end up at one of two points and I'm not sure which it will be yet. Part of the excitement of writing indeed - you never know the destination when you begin. And even when you think you do, it won't be the same when you get there. I'm calling it ... um ... Branches. Hell, what style and imagination I have indeed ... I've also written a review on Rosy Barnes' upcoming new novel, Sadomasochism for Accountants, for the Vulpes Libris review site, which I hope they might publish later in the month. So, in case they do, I won't say much about the book now except that it's a vivid and fun read and I loved the S&M Club. Fabulous.

Tonight, there are about a zillion things on TV, all of which I am desperate to watch. Deep sigh. I think I'll go for the adult crime drama, video the younger looking one and wait for the repeat of Who Do You Think You Are? tomorrow. That's the plan anyway.

Meanwhile, the snow is still here and tomorrow, as they say, is another day ...

Today's nice things:

1. An unexpected holiday
2. A winter walk
3. Poetry
4. Starting a short story
5. Rosy's novel
6. A TV plethora.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - it's snow place for a lady (geddit? Sigh. Ah well ...)

Day at Mother's

I have performed my Daughterly Duty today as Lord H and I have spent the day at Mother's. To prepare for this momentous occasion, I took two calming pills and one Vitamin B De-Stress pill with breakfast. Good to have a healthy diet, you know. Much to our astonishment, the journey there was almost entirely clear of traffic and even the A12 (Gawd bless it) had moving cars on it. Well, miracles can still occur then - but it does make me wonder where the hell everyone actually was. Have they gone abroad or are they staying in to watch the Olympics? It's a mystery. Anyway, as a result we arrived earlier than usual, and poor Mother was still donning her Difficult Daughter armour in order to get through her day. We might have been even earlier, but when we were parking outside the house, Lord H and I had a five minute discussion as to whether we could get away with peeking in at the window and then leaving a note saying "sorry but you were out" before making good our escape. Ah, dream on, eh.

It also meant that we had to make up an extra 45 minutes of conversation but I think we managed fairly successfully. If only by talking more slowly. We also bravely offered to take them out for lunch - which can be something of a trial as both Mother and Jim (stepfather) make their feelings known in no uncertain terms if (a) the service is slow, or (b) they don't like the food. Which is fair enough of course, but can be difficult if (a) the service isn't slow but the waitress has taken more than 30 seconds to appear at the table, and (b) the food is perfectly fine but the restaurant doesn't serve new potatoes without skins and the vegetables aren't cooked to the point of exhaustion.

However, today we have truly hit the jackpot! Mother had booked a new restaurant neither of them had been to before, but which had been recommended by friends - the Village Maid in Bradfield. Really though, there aren't many village maids anywhere these days, so good to have one preserved in the wilds of Essex ... Anyway, it looked strangely downbeat and appeared to be filled entirely by men with tattoos and Essex accents so strong you could have built the Dartford Tunnel with them (much like the village maids then ...), but in fact they were utterly lovely, the service was swift and friendly and the food was wonderful, hurrah! In fact so wonderful that Jim complemented the chef for the first time in his life and actually smiled. Mother and I nearly fainted as we can't remember the last time anyone saw Jim smile (being the horny-handed son of the soil that he is). We didn't even know he had the capability.

Buoyed by this exciting discovery, we went for a walk through woods near the River Stour to make the most of the unexpected August sunshine. Mum and Jim surged ahead, and Lord H and I lurked in the rear and hid behind a tree, wondering if they'd notice if we made a bid for freedom while things were going so well. However they were too deep in conversation to realise so we were forced to catch up with them in the end. Lord H's theory is that having a good meal obviously made the parents more amenable, so we must bear that in mind next time and constantly carry a supply of food just in case we need to distract them ...

Back at Mother's, we had tea and a bun, only having a slight dispute over the best way to toast a crumpet (which is pretty good for us - normally we row about the tea and the bun too) and when the toasting process is completed. Still, Lord H and I managed to throw the car into first gear and escape at just after 5pm without me using the remaining crumpet in a way not intended by the manufacturer, so I consider I did pretty well really, all things considered.

And a quick round-up of the day's conversational topics went something like this:

1. Napkin-folding lessons are rather addictive though it's astonishing how little you remember an hour after the lesson
2. There are no clothes to be bought in the whole of the known universe this season, or at least none we like
3. Yes, it is possible to use your socks to polish your shoes
4. Baby barn owls are extremely noisy and have to be taught how to make proper owl sounds
5. The dead bird in the porch is a sparrow
6. My (nasty) cousin hoovered my aunt's bungalow and is now being proclaimed as a hero. The fact that the bungalow is the size of a postage stamp appears to make no difference to the general (apart from me and Mother) adulation
7. The Royal Yacht is shockingly only nicely decorated on one side for photographic purposes. Not only that but the Royal Yacht servants had to live in conditions which would be deplored by third-world sweat-shop children, and if they saw a Royal they had to stand completely still without breathing until the Enemy had departed. Off with the royals' heads, say I! Thank goodness they decommissioned that floating slave-ship then ...
8. Yes, friends are irritating when they ask what you've been up to - don't they know it's private?? - and yes we do realise this is something one can never explain to said friends. Really though, if you wanted them to know something, you would have told them without being asked ... (strangely, Mother and I agreed about that one - hmmm, perhaps I have more of her blood in me than I'd like to admit, arrrrggghhh!!)
9. And, finally, we both agreed it would be extremely helpful on occasion to have a "You have been deleted from my current contacts list - sadly, there is no recycle option" card. Well, it's a thought, eh!


Today's nice things:

1. Surviving Mother
2. Finding a nice pub
3. A walk through the woods.


Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Walks and websites

Took advantage of the unexpected gap between bouts of torrential rain today to go for a walk around Ockham Common. Very nice it was too, although the noise levels from the M25 are pretty dire. Such a shame. Due to the wind, we didn't see too many birds either, though we did spot a kestrel (hurrah!), robins, chaffinches and something that Lord H said might have been a female blackcap (they're red on top, confusingly) - though I must admit I failed to notice that one. I also had a moment's sheer panic when my Wellington boots got stuck in what appeared to be a swamp, but Lord H nobly rescued me before the mud came up beyond my neck. Swoon! What a hero. I hadn't even realised we had swamps in Surrey.

For the rest of the day, I have been grappling womanfully with changing the old Goldenford website beyond all recognition. Lordy, but I wish I hadn't chosen a template which uses side PDF-to-GIF images instead of text, double dammit! Still, with Lord H's help, I have beaten the buggers into submission and am thoroughly GIFfed-out. My main worries now are the logos, the book pictures and the nightmare of PAYPAL, plus fiddling around with showing more links from the Books page, but frankly my dears, that's the icing on the cake, and I'm just glad I'm still standing! Have to say I do enjoy it though - I'm just a Website Whore really.

Tonight, there's sod all on TV, so Lord knows what we're going to do. Might watch a video, or even do the odd line or two to The Bones of Summer, but I'm not sweating it. As they say.

Oh, and I must say that the downstairs neighbour has had a rather amusing Bin Crisis, poor love, and has been telling me all about it. Here at the scary end of Godalming, we take great pride in keeping our bins clean (yes, I know - we probably do need to get out more ...), and it's the downstairs neighbour's turn at the moment. The binmen collected on Tuesday, and Henry was telling me that he'd been shocked beyond measure to see the state our bin had somehow got itself in. And, bearing in mind that Henry survived the Russian Front in World War II, you can imagine what a state it must have been in. Well, he then spent about thirty minutes tackling it with a scrubbing brush and hot soapy water and unpeeling the Gloop of Ages from the bottom before realising that ... um ... it wasn't actually our bin. Ah well. Next door must be thrilled with their new gleaming rubbish depository and, in the meantime, I've suggested Henry send them an invoice. Could be the start of a whole new career, you know.

I've just finished Nii Ayikwei Parkes' poetry pamphlet, Eyes of a Boy, Lips of a Man. Must admit that some of it left me utterly cold and felt as if it was struggling too hard. But wonderful poems like "The Bite", "Tin Roof" and "Rendezvous with Death" make up for it all, and justify the cost of the book. Certainly an interesting poet, in his best work at least.

Today's nice things:

1. Walking around Ockham Common
2. Working on the old Goldenford website
3. Thinking about poetry.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Old Goldenford site