A Visitation…

 

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A Visitation

 

One of my characters has been in my head a lot lately, constantly nagging me about something. He has featured in three of my books, and I think anyone who has read my work will remember DI Snow. The detective who helped Kate Devereau in Nine Lives, saved her life in Out of Time, and failed miserably to forget her in CrossFire.

He turned up again in Silent PayBack, happily married and recovered from the serious life-threatening injuries he sustained in CrossFire.

I wondered what was on his mind.

I invited him to my office to find out.

‘You have exactly five minutes to say what is on your mind, David, as I am trying to work.’

He looked wonderful, but then he has always been one of my favourite people. Looking just like Tom Selleck from the Jesse Stone tv series, he sprawled in my writing chair, slowly moving it backwards and forwards, his eyes never leaving my face.

‘I want to know when you will be writing another story for me?’ The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, along with one eyebrow. ‘I have missed seeing you every day, Jaye.’

My insides were melting fast, and right then I would have agreed to anything.

‘There is the small matter of a decent plot…’

He shrugged, as if that was of no consequence.

‘Do you have any idea how hard it is to create a plausible detective story?’

He stood up, towering over me as I sat on the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. ‘You have managed it very well up to now, Jaye. Anyway, I do have an idea, or rather a desire. My marriage is over, mainly because I cannot forget Kate. I want to find her again. You do know where she is?’

I was speechless, which was just as well, for I was desperately trying to imagine what Kate might be doing now. The last time I saw her, she was going to find somewhere to paint herself better. Supposing I couldn’t find her?

There was also the not so small matter of the work I was supposed to be doing. Like Anita’s new poetry book, and the impending release of her new fiction book, Running Moon.

As if he could read my mind, David Snow sat back down in my chair.

‘I know how busy you are, Jaye. You probably have several projects on the go, but I’m hoping writing a new story could be one of them. I’m not leaving until we have an agreement.’

 

To be continued

©JayeMarie  2020

 

Has the New Year started well for you?

Picture by AFP

I have never once thought that blogging could be detrimental to your health, but just lately, I have come to think that it could be.

Surely not, I hear you say, and I will admit it doesn’t seem likely, not on the surface, anyway.

I was nervous when I first started writing/blogging. Could I get to grips with the technology involved? Would I be any good at it? Would anyone ever talk to me?

I had a million questions, which are all very natural when you embark on a new adventure, and although at times it has been a frustrating and difficult journey, overall I have enjoyed every single minute of it.

So what on earth am I on about?

Just lately, a strange feeling has been creeping in, insidiously, like wisps of smoke. The internet is like a mirror, reflecting everything we bloggers do.  As a good proportion of bloggers are writers, you get to see what their lives and careers are like and it can be very reassuring if they are struggling just like you, facing the same problems and difficulties, but the more successful ones are an inspiration, showing you what you can accomplish if you work hard enough.

We have been blogging for nearly eight years now, and have met some amazing people.  Helpful, considerate people, generous with their advice and friendship. You gradually become part of their world, a world where anything is possible and you can afford the luxury of dreaming.

I can hear some of you tapping your fingernails, wondering where all of this is going, so I will try to explain.

Everyone says that with patience and hard work you can achieve your goals. But I have been patient and worked as hard as I can, but no nearer to anything even remotely like my goals.

And this was my epiphany… maybe my goals are wrong?

Something must be wrong with me, for on a bad day my enthusiasm wanes. All that wonderful optimism seems to leave the building.

I have been thinking about this year and it is clear that I must come up with some resolutions that work before the men in white coats come to take me away!

Not that this year can be the same as before for so many things are different now, starting with trying to get my head around it being 2020!

Then there was my number one symbol of the New Year, Big Ben. Seeing him up to his ears in scaffolding was a little upsetting on New Years Eve…

Big Ben has always been a very special symbol in my life. I grew up in London hearing the deep resonant sound of the bell. The imposing majesty of the building is one of my most enduring memories of my time there.

London has many such landmarks and I love them all, but that tall clock tower on the river Thames embankment is by far my favourite. By rights, my favourite should be the river itself, feeling as I do about water, but no. Very close though.

‘Big Ben’ is really just a nickname for the great bell itself, inside the famous clock tower at the north end of the Palace of Westminster in London. Built in 1858 and 96 metres high, it is the largest four-faced chiming clock in the world. But the bell itself is not the biggest. St Pauls Cathedral has a slightly bigger one, weighing in at 17 tonnes.

Scarily, the tower leans slightly to the North West, apparently caused by the tunnelling for the Jubilee Line Underground train.

I came across this picture of Big Ben a few weeks ago, and I was instantly transported me back to another New Year’s Eve so many years ago.

That particular year, my friends and I had decided to celebrate the coming of the New Year in style. We would attempt some kind of pub crawl, visiting as many bars and public houses that we could manage, in spite of the volume of people all doing the same thing; ending up at the embankment for the fireworks and Big Ben’s majestic chimes.

We had such fun that night even though I knew I would not contemplate doing it again, as the number of people all seriously intent on having as much fun as possible, created more madness and chaos than I ever thought possible and a lot of the time I was scared to death.

You see all the crowds on television, but could you imagine being there?

Of course, there could have been so much more trouble than there actually was. That many people, most of them hysterical with excitement and booze could have deteriorated into a riot. But it never seems to. No matter how squashed, drunk or freezing cold you happened to be, there is some kind of reverence going on, as if it would be a sin to ruin that night in any way.

Our journey around London that night was exciting, but I was glad when we found ourselves by the river just before midnight. We had left most of the throng behind and it was almost eerily quiet by the water. The fireworks were further up river and we seemed to have Big Ben all to ourselves.

It was very cold that night, but at least it wasn’t raining. I was one of the few people in our group that didn’t have a partner, something I knew I wanted to change in the New Year. I had no idea of the direction my life would be taking, no plans and not many dreams either, for I had already learned that dreaming was futile.

So that evening ended on quite a solemn note, and as the hands of the clock above us moved closer to the 12, the tears were not far away.

I had never been that close to Big Ben before and was not prepared for how loud the chimes would be. First came the melody and the vibrations seemed to travel up my legs until my whole body seemed to be humming. When the big bell started to chime the hour, the vibrations became longer and deeper and it felt as though my heart would break.

More than fifty years later, the sound of that bell has the same effect, instantly transforming me back to that lonely young woman who had already taught herself not to believe in dreams.

I obviously knew a thing or two back then, for my life has not been full of the stuff that dreams are made of, rather the opposite. But I am still here, not quite ready to give up. So is Big Ben, although undergoing major refurbishment along with the Houses of Parliament. Seeing all that scaffolding around the tower was worrying. If anything went wrong, we could lose Big Ben forever…

©Jaye Marie 2020

 

 

 

#BlogBattle ~ Bucket #Poetry

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They say at my age of 85

The days of wine and roses are over

They may be right, however

I live ten minutes from the beach at Southend

Each day I insert myself into the world

I sit with my toes in the sand

Watching people with their children

Playing let’s bury dad

This it seems, leads to a great deal of laughter

I count the days lucky

When a stranger stops to speak awhile

A gift from the Universe

This morning, I have risen extra early

I want to see the sunrise

With luck, I will have the beach to myself

As I walk barefoot along the sand

I am drawn towards two abandoned blue buckets

Sandcastles forgotten, weekend trippers

Long gone home

I sit holding one of the buckets

With no spade to fill it, I use my hand

I turn it over and instantly felt transported

As if by a time machine to my 8-year-old self

The first time standing on sand

The sight of the sea, so large

I remember thinking it had no end

It was rolling away from me to touch the sky

I know better now, as I wait for the sunrise

Wondering how many more I can fit into my life

Before I am called to that blue hour I see before me…

©anitadawes

#Writephoto ~ Presence #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Presence #writephoto

 

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Image by scvincent.com

 

Dreaming

I am lost in dreaming

The feel of your hand in mine

Dark lonely nights remembered

Inside the tall grey stone

Our time has fled

The circle closing

Ancestors whispering

Their footsteps echo back in time

I see them still

When the mist is rising

Happy, smiling,

their tall grey sentinels protecting

a way of life no longer remembered

scant mention in printed substance

should you visit the stones

you will find us here

a sudden breeze, a warmth

a whispered song

a sudden shimmer of grey

around the standing stones

don’t say, am I only dreaming…

©anitadawes

#writephoto

Christmas Past…

 

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Image by Jaye Marie

 

We have always been a family that goes all out for Christmas. It was always a very special occasion for all of us.

Right back when the children were small, our living room would be transformed into a magical fairy land.

We were never well off and for most of the year, life was tough but one way or another, the stops would be pulled way out at Christmas.

Our tree and the decorations were legendary, and the ceiling would literally be covered in crystal droplets, stars and tinsel garlands.

One year, we had the opportunity to move to a new house on Christmas Eve, so we packed everything away and reinstalled it all in the new place. It took all night, but that Christmas was very special.

 

My own childhood was dismal, I don’t remember celebrating any Christmas or birthdays, so I became obsessed with making up for it when I grew up.

We have always tried to come up with a different theme every year and have had trees of every colour and size. Once we even had an upside-down tree!

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image by Jaye Marie

 

Christmas Present

 

Sadly, this year is going to be different. The family are all grown up and some are married with their own families, so we won’t be spending Christmas Day together for the very first time.

We will, however, be celebrating with them on Boxing Day instead.

Time moves on, we are getting seriously old and beginning to feel a little bit left behind. The thought of Christmas future is out of focus, a distant dream that may simply fade away…

 

©jayemarie

 

 

 

 

#Silent Sunday…

Today, I am revisiting one of my favourite places, Southsea Rock Garden on the south coast of the UK.

Right on the seafront and built on many levels, its a delightful place to spend an hour or two…

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Image by Jaye Marie

 

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Image by Jaye Marie

Thank you for dropping by, without you, it wouldn’t be as much fun!

Four Seasons… #Poetry

 

Four Seasons

The mournful sound of Summer dying

Bare trees, one green leaf clinging

With the last of Summers sigh

Autumn slips past too fast

To the cold grip of Winter

Hard ground beneath your feet

Creatures sleeping, waiting

Cupboards fully stocked for snowfall

Bright buttoned snowmen built

Wooden sleighs sliding

Children laughing

Let me turn the clock forward

Bring on the Spring rains

The smile of daffodils

Let the sun shine

so I can feel warm again…

©anitadawes

The Long Walk… #Poetry

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Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

 

The Long Walk

I want to dance

To swim the warm waters

Run barefoot through fields of yesterday

When you were there

I have lost more than my soul mate

There are no sunsets, no moon rise

The breeze no longer moves through the trees

The leaves are still

You have taken the air from this world

I can no longer breathe without you here

I wait, drifting like a slow-moving river

Until I can walk the path you have taken…

©anitadawes