Wings
On eagle’s wings, I fly at night
My love denied.
She sleeps below
An aged curse keeps space apart
A stone I’ll drop on waters shine
To break the spell, to make her mine…
Don’t lie beside me, cold and dead
Don’t leave those words unsaid
Don’t let love seep beneath the floor
I am the same as I was before…
©Anita Dawes
My daughter and granddaughters gave him to us and he has been a great blessing. Each day he greets you when you rise, very vocally.
He talks a lot and sits on the arm of my chair, his face too close to mine. I have the feeling he wants to get inside my head. I cannot reach for my coffee, so I shoo him away.
My son says he doesn’t know why he loves me so much. I am told that whenever I leave the house, he howls, for he doesn’t like me to go away.
I call him dog because he acts like one. There are times he follows me so closely that I trip over him.
But he is a shadow I cannot do without…
©Anita Dawes
As if we don’t have enough to do, we have stumbled into what might possibly be either a brilliant idea, or the worst kind of madness ever to visit our house.
I’m not sure where this idea came from, but for some totally inexplicable reason, we are both equally enthusiastic about actually writing a mystery/thriller book together.
This may not work for a multitude of reasons, for we usually write in such different genres/and the arguments will probably reach hitherto unreached levels/we may end up killing each other!
We have started, and early indications would suggest it could possibly work!
Anita wrote the first section/intro, and I nervously followed. We average about 500 words each, but this could easily change when the musts get going.
Quite apart from being the most unlikely writing partnership, can you imagine what our respective muses must be thinking?
Other writers have done this, and in the past, we have often wondered how it would work. Now we will discover how hard it will be and if it will even work for us. And if we can do it without any of our legendary arguments, it will be a miracle!
Already, the conversations about the direction of the plot have been pretty spectacular, for we have such very different ideas about everything. The fact that I am the thriller writer around here stands for nothing, and my suggestions have not been well received, to put it mildly!
Today’s discussion ended with Anita suggesting that we start again, and this time write a spooky supernatural story.
We could, of course, but I am trying to finish my current WIP at the moment and all of this chaos is playing havoc with my schedule. It is my turn to write the next section, so I had better make it good!
Image by Pixabay.com
After blowing out my birthday candles, my nine-year-old granddaughter asked. “What did you wish for, Nan?”
I told her I wished I could bottle sunshine and keep it for the grey days. The next day, my granddaughter came round to see me with her mother and they were both smiling. That was sunshine enough for me.
I could see she was hiding something behind her back, so I asked what she had been up to. She handed me a small bottle filled with yellow paint. I could see that she had poured out the excess paint, making it translucent.
“It’s your wish, Nan. Sunshine in a bottle.”
I put it on my kitchen windowsill so whatever light catches it, I am reminded that sunshine comes in strange ways…
By Anita Dawes
Image by Pixabay.com
When I was seven, my mother bought me a black velvet dress for my birthday. It had a white collar with white cuffs on the small puff sleeves.
I felt like a princess, and couldn’t stop rubbing my hands over it. Mother told me to stop doing it, as I would ruin it.
My stepfather Joe said he would take me and my brothers to the park. As we left the house, my mother said not to give me any ice cream.
We played on the swings for a bit and then Joe brought my brother’s some ice cream.
I walked away, wondering if he would do as he was told. I didn’t go far, for I hoped I knew better than that and I was right. Joe handed me an ice cream, telling me to please be careful.
I said I would, but what child can eat an ice cream without getting it down themselves? Not me anyway. I kept rubbing at it, making it worse. The velvet was sticking up where I had rubbed it and there was no way to hide it.
All the way home, I wished Joe would run away with us, but he told me not to worry. He would say it was his fault, which in a way it was for buying it for me. I know that’s an unkind thought, but when we got home before he could say a word, mother ripped the dress from my body, leaving her nail marks on my back because the fabric was too hard to tear.
Joe got both barrels of her temper and I thought his ears would swell and drop off.
This memory has returned, because my daughter who lives next door, was playing a song I haven’t heard for a long time. It was one of my favourites, called Black Velvet.
It’s a funny old life isn’t it, the way old memories come back?
Anita Dawes 2018
I was minding my own business the other day when an idea arrived, but instead of my mind gently offering it to me, it smacked me upside my head!
What would happen if we could virtually invite one of our favourite authors to interview on the blog?
Think of the possibilities, we could interview anyone, the sky’s the limit…
At this point, my mind was galloping around like a six-year-old on a make-believe horse!
But … and there is always a but, isn’t there? Who would I choose?
Every time I thought of one, several others started elbowing him aside, making the inside of my head feel like a January Sale.
I tried to reassure them all that I would get around to all of them in due course, but of course, this wasn’t good enough. By their reasoning, my first choice would relegate all of the others to the status of second choice and nobody thought that was a good idea.
Another worrying thought marched up, briefcase in hand, waving frantically to get my attention among all the intense arguing that was going on. As if by magic, the arguing stopped and I waited for a pin to drop to prove I hadn’t gone deaf.
This newcomer strutted up and down like the solicitor he obviously had been, as he began to quote all the legal and moral implications. I hadn’t given a thought about any of that, but surely, I would be on safe ground if I confined my interviews to authors who were no longer with us?
One by one, the list of reasons that gave rise to all of my doubts did their best to scupper what seemed like a brilliant idea at the time.
I argued that it would be okay if I kept to the facts and not fictionalise anything, but then I realised it would be boring.
As the idea curled up and died, I resigned myself to searching for other blog topics to write about instead. My brain, however, wasn’t taking any of this lying down and came up with another idea, one that had been suggested by one of my favourite bloggers, Craig (coldhand)Boyack. He has Lisa Burton, this amazing robot muse to help him with much of his workload. He won’t say where he found her but hinted there may be more out there, waiting for the right writer to come along…
I listened to the thunder approaching as I caught up with writing the next chapter of my WIP. It sounded slightly ominous, but in a half-hearted way, if you know what I mean. We seem to get a lot of this half-hearted weather down here in Hampshire. They say it has something to do with being so close to the South Downs. It kind of messes with the wind currents or something.
At this stage, there was no way of knowing if it the storm would ever reach us, or veer off somewhere else. In the end, we had a few more rumbles and that was it.
On to the next disappointment. The eclipse.
Wall to wall cloud made sure we didn’t see anything, either the moon or the eclipse. We had been watching the moon all week as it slowly became full, only to have nothing at all to see on the night in question. We were in good company, for no one else in the UK saw it either, but the awful sticky heat had gone, and I could really concentrate on my writing. Word count has gone up by nearly 5000 words this week!
They promised rain, which would be more than welcome, as I could hear the garden screaming for moisture all way inside my office.
But when it did rain, it wasn’t the deluge they promised, just a quick half-hearted shower, but better than nothing, I suppose.
After a damp and slightly chilly weekend, I had the opportunity to play truant, and I didn’t hesitate. It was like the Prisoner of Zenda escaping, as I ran and jumped in the car, ready for the off. An afternoon walking around The New Forest? What’s not to like?
There will be lots of pictures and post to follow!
A Surprise and Unwelcome Visitor
During the heatwave, we had an unwanted disturbance late one night.
We had not long been in bed and couldn’t sleep as the heat was stifling. We heard a commotion downstairs and thought we were being burgled. We were about to investigate when we heard bottles clinking. A thirsty burglar? What was going on?
The culprit turned out to be Merlin, our beloved black and white cat. He tried to look innocent, but we knew what was going on. Somewhere in our house was a very small but unwelcome visitor. After crawling around on my hands and knees, looking in all his favourite places, I managed to track it down to the dining room, where Merlin had the tiny mouse cornered under the table. I managed to grab it with an old tea towel and take it out to the garden.
It was while I was out there, I decided it was the perfect place to sit and enjoy a coffee, even though it was two in the morning. I wasn’t having any luck sleeping anyway…
image by Pixabay.com
Footsteps
My grandmother’s diary took Frank and me to Paris for the first time.
I wanted to walk on the West Bank where she had fallen in love and had that wonderful sketch done of her and my grandfather.
Hoping to get Frank to sit still long enough, I approached one of the artists, a young woman and asked if she was working today.
Surprised, she pulled a sheet of paper from her folder, handed it to me, and said, ‘I knew you would be back for this.’
The half-finished sketch showed Frank on his knees, holding an engagement ring towards me. Confused, I said this was our first time in Paris.
‘In this lifetime, maybe…’ she said, looking past me to Frank.
He had dropped to one knee and was holding out a small red box, the same box as the one in the sketch.
‘I wanted to ask you to marry me…’
I swear I heard my grandmother laugh…
image by Pixabay.com
Most weeks in our house are usually a mishmash of incidents, some good and a few of the other kind. But whatever happens there is never a dull moment around here!
This past week has excelled itself, hurtling from one mini-disaster to another. At one point, I contemplated staying in bed, just to break the cycle, but as I am the nosiest person for miles, I couldn’t bear to think of anything happening without me. Seeing as how I was born with a sword in one hand and cleaning mop in the other, I could usually cope with anything!
It all started to go wrong when we spotted a fantastic bargain in our local charity shop, a two-seater couch in black leather. It was in perfect condition and a price that would n’t bring our bank account to its knees. So without thinking things through, we bought it, to be delivered the following day.
But what to do with the dilapidated broken down couch in our living room?
The local council have a collection service, so all we had to do was get it out of the house. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? In case you were wondering, it definitely wasn’t.
We are both in our 70’s and not the fittest people on the block, but we were determined. We would do this, even if it meant dragging the couch out of the house in pieces. A not so small nightmare later, two broken and bad-tempered women sat on the old couch in the front garden, swearing never again. We didn’t understand why it had been so difficult, it was a two-seater after all. We clearly remembered the day years before when it was first delivered, so either the couch had grown, or the house had shrunk.
The next day, tempers and difficulty forgot, the new couch was delivered and peace reigned once more. How I wish the story ended there.
At this point in the story, I can blame Anita for what happened next. She had seen (and fallen in love with) another couch in the charity shop, which she assured me, would be far more comfortable than our old three seater. You couldn’t make up what happened next.
To cut a long and painful story short, we bought the three seater and managed to drag the old one out. Slightly easier this time as it could be dismantled. Shame it was so bloody heavy though!
Shortly after the new three-seater was delivered, it became obvious that the blessed thing wasn’t comfortable at all, and had to go. By this time we were exhausted, unhappy and tempers were flaring. Again!
After three days of juggling large, heavy and unresponsive pieces of furniture, I have banned the word ‘couch’ from ever being spoken of in my hearing again. The furniture we have will just have to last, for there is no way I am going to lift anything heavier than the kettle for the foreseeable future!
One of the first things I learnt when we started blogging, was the importance of sharing, for although the blogosphere is a crowded and busy place, it can feel like the loneliest place in the world.
That first year, before I learnt the finer points of internet communication (it was so complicated and confusing at first, with all the technical stuff you need to know, like all the linking and tags) we didn’t get many visitors.
We were adrift in a tiny boat, fumbling about in the dark. The thought of actually talking to complete strangers all over the world was both exciting and terrifying.
Gradually, we have become a part of this worldwide community and the support and generosity have been amazing. In turn, we like to support our fellow writers and bloggers, helping to promote their work, so all of you writers, poets and photographers, if you would like to have a guest post featured on our blog/website, you can contact us in the comments below this post.
We are happy to promote your work, as long as it is original, family-friendly material that is all your own work.
The average guest post is between 500 – 1000 words long. Please submit your article as a Word Document and images as email attachments.
We will also need a brief personal bio and links to your website/blog, along with links to your social media/Amazon/Goodreads Accounts.
We will… create and schedule your post, letting you know the time and date of the post. We will also send you a link when it is published and post links to the article across all of our social media accounts, including our blog feed on Goodreads.
Our Caveat: We reserve the right to refuse any submission we feel unsuitable for our blog/website…
