Bite Size Memoir No.6 “First Jobs”. At the Bakery Department.

When I was at school we all had Saturday jobs. My mother wasn’t too keen at first, because she wanted me to do well at school, but I convinced her that my marks wouldn’t suffer. I had always loved big department stores, so I decided to apply for my first job at Debenhams, the biggest department store in neighbouring Harrow, which was a thirty-minute walk from my house in Wealdstone. I was about fifteen at the time. I remember filling forms, and being interviewed, and feeling quite in awe of the managers. I imagined I’d be selling designer clothes, or make up, but my first job was at the bakery department. I had to wear a uniform and a cap, which wasn’t very glamorous at all! The first day was nauseous, I was sick that evening, although I proudly took a box of leftover cakes home for my mother and my sister.

https://sharingthestoryblog.wordpress.com/2014/06/06/bite-size-memoir-no-6-first-jobs/  Have a look at some other posts!

Writing 101, Day Six: A Character-Building Experience. Elsa.

Today’s prompt: Today, you’ll write about the most interesting person you’ve met in 2014. In your twist, develop and shape your portrait further in a character study.

 

Lucy and Elsa

Elsa was born two days ago, 8th July, she’s the reason I’m late for my blogging challenge! I’ve been busy helping my daughter and her husband with their new challenge for 2014!

Elsa is my first granddaughter and my third grandchild. She’s got rosy skin and lots of shiny black hair, she hasn’t opened her eyes yet, so we don’t know what colour they are. She’s slim with long legs and feet. She spends most of the day breast feeding and sleeping, and cries occasionally.

Elsa is named after my sister who died tragically in an accident when she was twenty-five. When my daughter told me she’d be calling her own daughter Elsa, I was overjoyed. It’s a lovely name and it is also an emotional tribute to my sister.

I wonder if a person’s character is determined at birth, or if it develops over time? The ‘nature versus nurture’ dichotomy is still unsolved. There is evidence to support both theories, so I think, there’s a mixture of both in our characters. We are born with certain traits, which can develop in different ways depending on our life experiences.

I can’t tell what Elsa’s character will be like in the future. At the moment, she seems calm and quiet, and she smiles frequently. She’s not demanding or noisy, which is a good sign. Most people tend to prefer easy-going and cheerful people, and they’re probably happier with themselves, too!

I like to think I’m not superstitious, but I’ve heard this poem recited since I was a child, and have always thought (probably illogically) that there was some truth attached to the divination of a person’s future through according to the day they were born.
Monday
Elsa was born on Sunday, so she’ll be bonny and blithe and good and gay!

This popular English rhyme was first recorded in A. E. Bray’s Traditions of Devonshire in 1838 however, the tradition of fortune telling by days of birth is much older. Thomas Nashe recalled stories told to “young folks” in Suffolk in the 1570s which included telling what luck everyone should have according to the day of the week.

If you’re interested you can check out the day you were born and see if you think it’s true for you!

In any case, I’m sure that Elsa is the most interesting and most important person I’ve met this year.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-day-six/  Check out some of today’s other posts here!

Writing 101, Day Five: The Letter.

Today’s prompt (well, yesterday’s I’m overdue!): You discover a letter on a path that affects you deeply. Write about this encounter. And your twist? Be as succinct as possible.

The sun stroked my cheeks as I sank lazily on the deck chair at the Bankside Café, facing Richmond Park. I indulged in this small luxury every Friday, before checking in at the library. As I sipped my cappuccino, a grey weightless bubble caught my attention, rolling along the pavement. The torn page, which had been crumpled furiously into a ball, and discarded carelessly onto the floor, stopped by my surprised feet. I unraveled it and read the highlighted words…

‘I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever.’ I gasped, trying to shock my lungs back to work, before continuing, ‘I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago.’ My heart was now racing uncontrollably, ‘Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.’ I wiped away the tear that burst out of my eye, while I read the rest of the message, ‘Call me’, followed by nine numbers firmly engraved over the typewritten words on the back of the page.

End of the 101 Challenge.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-day-five/ Why not have a look at the other entries?

 

The letter quoted in this entry is one of the most famous love letters in English literature. It was written by Captain Wentworth to Anne Elliot in Jane Austen’s last completed novel, Persuasion, written in August 1816, a year before she died, and published posthumously in 1818.

Persuasion has a simple plot, although there are important subplots. Frederick Wentworth is a brave, handsome and wealthy captain, who has returned from maritime victories in the Napoleonic Wars. He is staying with his sister and brother-in-law, who have leased Kellynch Hall, which was estate owned by the family of Anne Elliot, who had broken their engagement eight years earlier. He publicly declares that he is ready to marry a suitable young lady, creating great expectations among the marriageable women of Bath.

Jane Austen, who died the year before Queen Victoria was born, is one of the best-loved authors of romantic fiction involving the landed gentry of the early 19th century. ‘Persuasion’ refers to the pressures employed by society on women regarding love and marriage, and deals with the conflicts they face between free will, duty and responsibility.

I will be writing a fuller review called ‘Rereading Persuasion’, soon, meanwhile here’s the whole letter, which I hope will encourage you to read this wonderful novel.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never incon¬stant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent crea¬ture! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W-

Friday Photo Challenge: Perspective

Chimney Anna

Spatial and Temporal Perspectives

She ran upstairs to cry in her room, then crept up to the loft, where she unlocked the latch, and opened the window onto the roof. She drew in a sharp breath and the cool breeze dried her tears. She put her head against the brick chimney, remembering the young sweep who had been burnt inside. She still hears his screams in the silence of the dark evening.

She ran upstairs, then crept up to the loft, where she unlocked the latch and opened the window onto the roof, to play hide and seek. She drew in a sharp breath, pulled her legs out and wrapped her arms around the obsolete chimney, unaware that young sweeps might have got stuck, or even suffocated inside, just a century ago. Instead she looked over the city, twinkling against the rosy evening sky, and smiled as the tiny plane raced across the horizon.

Photo taken from the rooftop window of a Victorian house in south London, last year.

http://www.photofriday.com/ Have a look at some other entries!

Writing 101, Day Four: The Serial Killer. Loss.

Today’s prompt is: write about a loss. The twist: make this the first post in a three-post series. Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t any more.

I didn’t want to get sentimental today. I’ve tried hard to write about loss in a positive way, but I’ve given up.

Loss is loss. It’s hard and devastating and often irretrievable.

I want to face loss. I need to face loss. The greatest loss that can happen to a person is, literally, losing oneself, not knowing who you are as a result of Alzheimer’s, dementia, or other types of neurological conditions.

I first came across dementia when I was a teenager in the 1970s. My mother, my sister, and I, used to travel from London to the north of Spain via Paris by coach, and ferry. We stayed with my mother’s cousins, aunt, and uncle, who had escaped to France from the Spanish Civil War. They lived in the outskirts of Paris, in suburban town houses, much like our house in north London. We always enjoyed our stay there (I’m sorry to say we’ve lost touch now), they were merry and welcoming, and took us to visit the sights like tourists, and cooked us delicious meals, which always ended with lots of different types of cheese and Champaign.

One year, my mother’s Aunt Asunción was different. She kept saying things over and over again. She no longer cooked, or went out. I sensed something was wrong, but she looked healthy. She had put on weight, and seemed to be happy, and smiled most of the time. Until one day she asked me how my father was. My father didn’t live with us, so he never came. In fact, I’m sure she had never even met him. But she insisted in Spanish, which was the language she usually used to speak to me, ‘Where is Antonio, your father? I haven’t seen him this morning in the walk.”

It took me a few minutes o realize she was talking about my grandfather, whom I had never met, because he had died ten years before I was born. Then she called me by my name, which was also my mother’s name. Once more I soon realized she wasn’t talking to me, but to my mother. She thought I was my mother, and she was asking me about her father. I was shocked and distressed, so I rushed to tell my aunt, her daughter, who told me not to worry, ‘Just say yes, and play along.’ She dismissed. I asked her if we shouldn’t tell her about her confusion, and she told me that she was ill, and would never recover her former self. We had lost her, but worse still, she had lost herself.

As far as I can remember, there was no name attached to the condition, at the time. It was dismissed as ‘old age’. Apparently, it had happened to other members of the family who had lived long enough. Years later, in the 1990s, another aunt, on my father’s side, suffered the same ‘strange illness’, which now had a universally acknowledged name: Alzheimer’s, and people started talking about it openly, and investigating to improve the lives of sufferers and their families, but it was early days yet.

This dreadful loss was to cross my path twice more…

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-day-four/ Check out what others are saying about loss.

 

Another 5***** Review for All Hallows at Eyre Hall!

This is review number 4 and it’s also 5*!

It was posted on Amazon.es (Spain) because that’s where I live, and I know there are many English speakers in Spain who are reading my novel! Please take the time to review! Click on book cover to read the review.

a_006

 

Writing 101. Day 3. Three Songs

Today’s prompt is: Write about the three most important songs in your life — what do they mean to you?

The most important song in my life is Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty. I was in my first year at college when I first heard it. I was living on campus in Hampstead, and bus number 13 and 113 (I think I’ve got the numbers right) used to take me from the dorms to the centre of town, along Finchley Road, past Swiss Cottage, St. John’s Wood, and Lord’s, along Baker Street and into bustling Oxford Street. But I was well acquainted with this street before College. I used to live in north London, and on special occasions, I would take the metropolitan line into Baker Street Station, from there I’d often walk along Baker Street and into Oxford Street and spend the day window shopping and wandering around the fascinating shops. Now, when I listen to this song, I can hear the murmur of the city traffic, feel the buzz of the busy pedestrians, and smell the dampness seeping out from the river I both love and despise.

The next song belongs to an earlier period in my life, when I was a young teenager and went to my first discos. I remember dancing to ‘That’s the way I like it’ by K C and the Sunshine band. It’s important because it represented the transition from childhood to adolescence. I was very innocent at the time. I loved the beat, and I thought the song was about dancing, because I enjoyed dancing to disco music on the dance floor. I remember sneaking into discos for over 18s with my friends, the one I liked best was under the arches, near Charing Cross, I can’t remember the name, we called it ‘The Arches’. It’s still there, but it has a new ‘celestial’ name now.

Thirdly I’m going to choose a contemporary song which makes me feel ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams. I love it because it makes me feel optimistic. l often ‘feel like a room without a roof’, as if I’ve overcome the obstacles and have burst out and broken free, and can live the life I want to live. At least that’s what I strive to do every day.

Finally, I’m going to cheat a little and add two more, the first is: ‘Rolling in the deep’ by Adele. It has no special meaning for me except that I love singing it in the shower, every day! It invigorates me. I feel brave as I step out and get dressed. In this case I think it’s more the voice than the song or the music. The second one is ‘Slow’ by Rummer, which I love listening to when I’m writing or thinking about writing, because her voice and the lyrics make me feel calm and serene, so I can listen to my inner voice…

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-day-three/ Check out other favourite songs!

 

Another 5***** Review of All Hallows at Eyre Hall!

My third 5***** review is up on Amazon!

I’m thrilled….I feel spoilt by these wonderful and well written reviews!

Not only have the reviewers taken the time to read my novel, but they have also found the time and patience to put pen to paper and write thorough and thoughtful reviews which are invaluable to the author and helpful for other readers.

20140123_093303

I took this picture one morning this winter, on my way to work. The air was crisp, and the moon, still visible in the cloudless morning sky, reminded me how lucky I was to be witnessing the event, and feeling inspired to take a picture and capture the moment. I coloured it and added the caption on Picasa.

“Time is the most precious gift you can give to someone,because if you give someone your time. It’s a part of your life that you will never get back.”

This quote has been attributed to various authors, among them: Gloria Tesch and Rick Warren, but I’ve heard it in many languages, many years ago, so I don’t know who said it first or where he/she came from.

In any case, I’d like to thank all the generous people, who offer other generous people their time, reading their books, writing reviews, listening to their problems, giving advice, and just ‘being available’ by offering their time to someone else, expecting nothing in exchange.

Thank you.

Please click on the book cover to read the review.

a_006

 

Writing 101. Day Two: A Room with a View

Today’s question is: If you could zoom through space in the speed of light, what place would you go to right now?

I’d travel through time and space and look for a shy little girl who’s having a hard time adapting to a broken family, a new country, and a new school. She’s six years old and it’s 1965. She leaves her house in the morning of Friday 4th of June with her mother, and her baby sister, who is in the pushchair. It’s a special day because it’s her birthday, but she has to go to school, the new school for ‘big girls’, which she hates. They walk along the long narrow cul-de-sac  which leads to the school, towering at the end. There’s no way out and no way back. Forward it is. The little girl is crying, tears are running down her cheeks because she wants to stay with her mother and her sister, but there’s no turning around. Move on Lucy.

I take her hand at the school door, gently, and I speak to her, softly. As we walk into the overbearing building I tell her not to worry because ‘in the end’ everything will be all right. Her life won’t be a bed of roses, but she’ll be mostly happy, and mostly healthy, and she won’t have to struggle to make ends meet very often, but she’ll have to work very hard.

Once inside, I sit down with her in the long empty corridor (everyone else is in class), and warn her about the mistakes she might be making, and tell her about the wonderful things she’ll be doing in the following 49 years. I’ll show her a school map, and tell her about the countries she’ll visit. I’ll tell her about the people she’ll meet who will help her through her life. I’ll also tell her about those she’ll meet but will never know how sweet and pretty she was when she smiled. I’ll tell her to dream, because if she doesn’t abandon her dreams, she’ll accomplish them all.

I clearly remember that day, 49 years ago, when I looked at me with caring eyes, and tried to say so many things in twenty minutes, because I was just there.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/courses/writing-101-building-a-blogging-habit/

 

 

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Floral Macros

20140601_17103720140601_171227-002

These aren’t exactly flowers, but I love palm trees. I’m sure it’s because I was brought up in London, and I only saw them when I travelled to Tenerife (Canary Islands) to visit my aunts and cousins who lived there. I loved my sunny holidays, so palm trees are a synonym for ‘paradise’ for me.

When I first moved to the house where now I live, almost twenty years ago, I decided that it was about time I had a palm tree of my own, in order to live in a permanent paradise…

This is my 20-year-old palm tree from the inside and the outside. It represents my heaven and my home. I love it.

http://ceenphotography.com/fun-foto-challenge/