This morning was a typical autumn morning, misty and damp. And usually the way with weather like this, every fence, plant and bush was covered in lacy, fairy-like spider webs.
Each one soaked with dew and very visible.
Despite what other people say about the tensile strength of spider silk, all of these magical webs always seem to vanish the minute the sun appears.
Time was of the essence, so I grabbed my camera and rushed outside. I have long wanted to capture a web in all of its intricate beauty, so there I was, running around the garden in bare feet and a nightgown, trying to capture the best of these webs.
We marvelled at the patience and intelligence, even the ingenuity of all these spiders. Such complicated ways of anchoring their masterpieces.
All that work, and in the space of half an hour, nothing left to show for it.
Now, where have I heard that before?
Then I remembered.
I had just finished uploading several chapters of the current WIP when the computer crashed. I prayed that it had automatically saved my work, as Word does have this capability, but once the dust settled, I couldn’t find these new chapters anywhere.
Then there was the time a while ago now when floppy discs were being replaced by far better ways of saving data. As if ours had heard the word, they suddenly became corrupt, taking several manuscripts with them. Despite expert help to retrieve these files, we never saw them again.
I can understand losing something as delicate and fragile as a spider’s web, but technology should be more robust, in my opinion…
This got me thinking about my own footprint. Would I vanish without a trace when it’s my turn to shuffle off? Would anything I have ever done, remain? Live on somehow, without me?
Today’s world doesn’t seem to support longevity. Technology moves on, leaving things outmoded and obsolete, so fat chance anyone remembering me unless I manage to do something totally memorable, or achieve greatness in the next few years!
Don’t Look Away
Rich or poor, thin or stout
You’ll know when bullies are about.
There’ll be eyes that are crying
And those that are looking away.
‘No Sir, I didn’t see what happened…
I really couldn’t say.’
Or the bullies will get me tomorrow,
When you are looking away.
When the bullies shout and push you about
And when you call for help,
I won’t tell you to go away,
Don’t make a fuss dear,
As grown-ups are prone to say.
I will stand beside you and say
My name is Hayley Steele
I will not look away…
©written by Hayley Steele
It had to happen I suppose, after weeks of struggle and getting precisely nowhere, things are looking up!
Not only do we seem to be more productive, it is reflected in our stats for everything else has improved too.
We feel better in ourselves and have more enthusiasm than a cartload of monkeys.
My work in progress is progressing in leaps and bounds and almost writing itself. Anita’s pen is smoking hot, so it’s not just me.
And all those depressing thoughts about the upcoming editing of PayBack have taken a hike too, and I am actually looking forward to it! Even the weather is being nice!
No problems whatsoever with any of the equipment, thank the Lord!
Nothing radical has happened or changed, so why has life done a U-turn?
It’s as if someone has slipped me a pair of rose-tinted spectacles, for everything I see looks so much better than before.
(I just hope this isn’t the calm before the storm…)
This past week has almost been the straw that nearly broken everything.
I mean, you can only struggle for so long, can’t you?
Bang your head enough times and something will break, and I guarantee it won’t be the wall!
I have recently discovered a new way (at least for me) of getting more book sales, but learning how to set it up is sorely testing what’s left of my remaining grey cells.
I managed to finish writing the interview with one of the characters from The Scarlet Ribbon for Lisa Burton, Craig Boyack’s amazing robot assistant. This aired on Thursday 20th.
This week was beset with gremlins and glitches, on the PC mainly. Caused, I believe, by an incompatibility with Chrome. Trouble is, I have run out of options, as I left Firefox for similar problems. There is always Internet Explorer of course.
Sometimes I am really fed up with everything not being quite right, despite working hard to make it so.
Then, Armageddon arrived.
We lost all connections with the phone line and the internet. And we don’t own a mobile phone!
We enlisted the help of Anita’s daughter and her mobile phone, and she managed to convince BT that we needed help and soon. I have to say that even if we did have a mobile phone, we wouldn’t have been able to follow all the instructions that she had to follow. From photographing the different parts of our phone system, (which involved downloading apps) to a series of complicated messages. Our minds were shattered and we weren’t doing any of it!
Somehow, we managed to get an engineer appointment for the following day, and this never happens!
To cut a very long story short, the engineer turned up this morning. When the light on our PC hub turned green, there was a big cheer. But our joy was to be short-lived.
For some reason, I couldn’t log on to our provider. At this point, I wanted to pull my hair out or run down the road screaming. I tried everything I could think of, every troubleshooting programme I could find, but the harder I tried, the more convinced I was that something was trying to kill my brain!
I tried to switch from Chrome to Internet Explorer, but this didn’t work either. I was almost resigned to telephoning BT and asking for help, but I hesitated. The last time I was forced to do that, I ended up more confused than ever.
In the end, I did manage to get Internet Explorer to cooperate and swiftly downloaded Firefox.
Within minutes, normality was restored and the rest, as they say, is history!
(Until the next attack by the ever-present gremlins, that is!)
The hour is late
He will come
He will take me
His movement slow
Almost too much
My mind is frozen
At his touch
My body quivers
A lover’s kiss
A lingered look
No daylight hours
Can this touch…
Mr Edwards ran the baker shop not far from where we lived, and Mum would often send me for a fresh loaf, warm in my arms, smelling like heaven.
All the way home it was so hard not to take a bite. I did once and that was enough. The best thing for us kids was the fish and chip shop. If we took in an armful of newspapers, we could walk home eating a free bag of chips.
On hot days, we could get a cold drink from Mr Tom’s sweet shop. He offered one-penny drinks or a small one for a halfpenny. When you had been running around, it was better than popping indoors for a drink of water, for Mum would ask why was I so hot, and what had I been doing. Spending that halfpenny was best.
It was always easy to come by a penny or two. Take the rubbish out for Mrs Kindle, or sweep the yard for old Mr Wright. I ran many errands and often earned enough to go swimming and buy a bag of broken biscuits on the way home. For a penny, I could spend all day in the paddling pool.
For five pennies, I could spend an hour in a tin canoe rowing myself around the small island in the middle of the pond. When our time was up the man would call us in by our number and I always wanted canoe number 5.
Oh, for a time machine so I could take my kids back and show them how I lived and how I played…
We had been told the storm would hit us by Friday. Nature’s evil hand was coming.
We had food enough for two weeks and plenty of bottled water. Jim, my husband had covered the windows with the planking set aside for such times. The fire was lit and we were warm.
The wind outside was up to 70 miles an hour now, pounding our house, trying to take it away. I missed the sound of the rain on the glass but this was no time for thinking about that. I wondered how our neighbours were coping. Jim had his old radio working, the wind we were told, had reached more than 90 miles an hour now.
We didn’t need telling, our ears let us know how bad it was out there. I was afraid we wouldn’t hear a knock on the door should someone need help.
There were a dozen knocks on the door that day. Our house was stronger than most, and each of our neighbours brought their own food. We ate together, somehow managing to laugh and it was like being around a campfire. The women cooked and cleaned while the men kept the children entertained.
The storm had turned us into one large family…