Friday Flash Fiction – Desk

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 2 Comments

There were oohs and ahhs as Liz walked into the office, it was only a few months since she last set foot in the place, but anyone listening to the other girls would have thought they had not seen her for years.

‘Oh, he’s gorgeous, take his hat off so we can see him properly’ said Carol.

‘Can I hold him? Look Lucas, do you like the Christmas decorations?’

‘Must be your family he gets his red hair from… he’s very pale, I thought he would be more sort of coffee coloured.’

‘Well he hasn’t seen any sun yet,’ said Liz defensively ‘besides, Jarrod’s got such a mixed ancestry I expect he had some ginger forebears.’

‘So how’s it been then, does Jarrod change the nappies?’

‘Of course, he’s a fantastic Dad, even gets up to make me a cup of tea in the middle of the night, fetches Lucas from his cot and plants him on my breast so I don’t have to move, then sits and chats so I don’t get bored.’

‘Lucky you, I had to make do with my phone for company during night feeds.’

‘Are you going to take the whole year then?’

‘I’m not sure, Jarrod’s so besotted he reckons he should take time off work when Lucas is on solids, he hates having to leave him to go to work.’

By this time a few of the fellows considered enough minutes had passed to show they weren’t gaga about babies and wandered over.

‘Pity you’re going to miss the office Christmas party,’ said Dave ‘wonder if it will be as wild as last year?’

‘I don’t remember it being wild’ Liz blushed.

‘You were so drunk you probably don’t remember anything.’

‘You’re a fine one to talk, Dave.’

‘I was quite sedate compared with the boss.’

‘No, he was dead sober,’ said Carol ‘at least he stayed till last to make sure everyone left safely, he was going to call a cab for Liz.’

‘So what else has been happening, did John go to head office?’ Liz tried to steer the conversation away from parties and tried to avert her eyes away from the desk that used to be hers. She hadn’t been so drunk she couldn’t remember. Hopefully Mr. O’Brian would stay in his office. It had been a mistake to come, but all the girls had phoned and e-mailed pleading to see the new baby. Liz couldn’t really recall how it had happened. She was gathering her handbag from her desk and he was leaning over to use her phone to call a cab – he did call a cab afterwards, for both of them, made sure she got home safely before he returned to his wife and their lovely children. She knew they were lovely because he had a photo on his desk, two boys and one girl, all with hair of burnished copper.

 

 

 

The Ghosts of Christmas Past – Episode One

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 1 Comment

What was your worst Christmas, your strangest? Some Christmas memories blend in, others are never forgotten. For those of us who had a happy childhood Christmas remains in our memories as a time of heady excitement; dark winter days brightened with nativity plays, school parties and candlelit churches. There was one traumatic experience that dulled the excitement when I was seven. At school we were told to write a letter to Father Christmas, the girl sitting in front of me turned round and said ‘What’s the point of writing to Father Christmas when he doesn’t really exist?’ I tried to appear nonchalant, I was not going to admit my ignorance, but I was devastated. As soon as I got home from school I asked my mother if it was true; my last hopes were dashed and she swore me to secrecy, not to spoil it for my younger siblings. I soon recovered, the Christmas atmosphere remained and there was still the thrill of presents to unwrap.

30769005_10212869667870120_1043963808_o

When I was eleven we emigrated to Western Australia; our arrival was in October, we moved to our new house in December and my childhood Christmases disappeared forever. This was not the fault of Australia or my parents; I was growing up, the dark mystery of winter days was replaced by bright sunshine, we knew nobody, there were no gift bearing relatives visiting and my parents’ budget was tight. But by the following year Christmases were settling into a new pattern and we acquired family friends to celebrate with.

32446751_10213022320966352_3869735468924928000_n

My first Christmas away from home, when I was nineteen, came about when my best friend and I planned a six week summer holiday trip across Australia, inveigling a mutual friend to share the driving and his car across the Nullabor Plain. She assured me her relatives in South Australia would be delighted to have the three of us for Christmas and indeed they were very welcoming. A collection of aunts and uncles had orchards and shops. On the first morning of our stay my two friends were commandeered to take one of the aunts to hospital with a miscarriage, I was left behind to look after her young children who I had never met before. More relatives arrived and unbeknown to us they had spotted a freezer that didn’t work properly in uncle’s shop, they warned each other not to eat the chicken. A very pleasant Christmas Day was followed by food poisoning on Boxing Day.

Next week – what was I doing at Heathrow Airport 6am one Christmas morning?

Quarter Acre Block follows the Palmer family as they emigrate to Western Australia in October 1964. At  Christmas they realise how much they have left behind.

 

The Game of Life – Gunshot Glitter

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 1 Comment

This week’s round of the Game of Life is dedicated to a writer who was out of the game far too soon. I had not met her in person, but she was a friend of my daughter’s, they met at music gigs in London and realised they both came from the same area. Yasmin became my Facebook friend one day and five minutes later I found myself belonging to Author Chat Forum – the first time I had linked up properly with other writers on line. That led to me broadening my horizons considerably.

Yasmin was an independent full of life and very warm person who seems to have touched many lives in many areas. She wanted to be remembered as a writer. Her novel is rather unique I think, unlike anything I have read before or since. This is the review I wrote a few years back.

Janet Gogerty
5.0 out of 5 stars  Not for the faint hearted, but this book has a gentle heart.

7 January 2014

Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
My daughter told me about this new writer’s first novel, then read the book and worried it might be too raunchy for me – so I decided to definitely buy it! The opening chapters are shocking, some of the characters are shocking, but it is a beautifully written book with a fast moving story that involves you with all the characters. Of course we feel for the victim’s family, but can’t help also being on the side of the killer, kept in suspense till the end.

 

 

Silly Saturday – Baz the Bad Blogger Reblogged

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 2 Comments

Baz at his Best – helping the Baffled

 Baz the Bad Blogger offers us his tips on tackling WordPress changes.

12

 

Are you baffled by the new ‘improvements’ to WordPress? So am I, if you think I can help you, bad luck, I was hoping you could all help ME. I just posted that heading to get you to read my blog.

What’s all this Gutenberg thing about anyway? All I know is those bits at the side all changed, then the Publish button faded and no little hand appeared so I couldn’t press publish, then my pictures disappeared. Another blogger suggested go back to Classic Edit, how on earth to do that? Accidentally is the answer.

Anyway, how’s your week been? December already, my most detested month, all that cheerfulness. Right that’s the polite bit done with, now for some moans.

Sales of my new novel ‘I Zomboid’ aren’t going too well. I’ve only sold one on Amazon.UK and that was bought by me. I have bought four books by other authors, yes you know who you are and you didn’t buy mine. Look out for the two star reviews…

One month on and I’ve only got two followers and one LIKE. Changing my profile picture hasn’t helped. I have been reading lots of other blogs and commenting, mostly helpful advice such as how to improve their blogs, but I think it will be a long time before anyone sends me ‘HUGs’. I’ll leave you with some cuddly animals, not sure if these ones are alive.

6

 

Don’t read original post  no more words

Friday Flash Fiction – Christmas Department

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 4 Comments

 

All Annie wanted was a new winter coat, but to reach Ladies Clothing she first had to fight her way through the Christmas Department… and it was only November the first. Lurid pinks and purples, gaudy gold and silver glitter for as far as the eye could see. Grinning reindeer, misshapen polar bears, fluffy mongrels and ugly kittens; a zoofull of cheap toys, not cheap to buy, just cheaply made.

She pictured the crates full of creatures arriving at the store, multiplied them by all the other stores in the country, envisioned a container full of crates, thought of the container ships she saw at the docks, piled high enough to topple over and sink. She saw a whole ship of stuffed animals, an ocean full of container ships ploughing through the waves bringing an endless supply of Christmas tack.

Annie continued her walk, still no sign of clothes racks, but a forest of excess packaging enabling gormless customers to be charged ten times the usual amount for a mug or pair of boxer shorts. Boxes, cartons, tins and tubs full of the most useless things, with the odd chocolate or packet of shortbread thrown in; crossword toilet paper, pink fluffy covers for mobile phones, ipads and ears. She thought she had seen everything till she arrived at ‘Gifts for Your Best Friend’; Father Christmas and ballet outfits for your dog and stockings for your cat to hang up.

The winter coat was forgotten and Annie’s blood pressure was soaring as she stepped onto the escalator, narrowly avoiding dangling decorations. As she ascended through the floors she blended in with other shoppers and none of them would have guessed her secret.

‘Excuse me Madam,’ said a young lady ‘this floor is staff only, offices and the managerial suite.’

‘It’s the manager I wish to see.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

Annie showed her a small card.

‘Certainly, I’ll show you straight through.’

Annie sailed through the door before the girl had a chance to knock.

‘Get rid of the tat.’

The middle aged man behind the large desk stood up in surprise. He had only just heard the chain of stores had been saved from going into receivership and had no idea who the anonymous buyer might be.

P1050622

When Annie had her surprise win on the Pan European Mega Autumn Lottery she had been overwhelmed. All she needed was a new coat, but she had always fancied owning a little shop…

‘The Very Useful Shop…’

‘Pardon’ said the confused manager.

‘That’s what I shall call the company, once we’ve done a few alterations… you can start by having all that stuff downstairs packed up and sent back where it came from.’

 

By early December Annie had been nominated for Woman’s Hour ‘Woman of Power’ and was a guest on ‘Newsnight.’

‘How many container ships were sent back?’ asked the presenter.

‘Enough for the world to get the message.’

‘Did you spare a thought for the livelihood of the people who worked in the factories?’

‘Certainly, I bought the factories; I pay the staff a living wage and we have taken on new staff to cope with the alterations. The Very Useful Factory Company is up and running.’

DSCN6481

At Annie’s local shopping centre and in scenes repeated around the country, the pound shops, Christmas bazaars, calendar and card shops were empty. Everyone was flocking to The Very Useful Shop and the most popular department was Make and Take; the local news filmed customers of all ages cutting and pasting cards, painting pottery, knitting scarves and creating new garments from recycled clothes. Piped music was banned and customers were entertained by local choirs, hand bell ringers and a grand piano.

Rival businesses queried whether it was still a shop, but the Ombudsman reported that customers paid for the high quality raw materials and the delicious food served in the Meet and Eat restaurant.

Ministers from various departments came to visit and so too did several Archbishops. It was rumoured that the Queen was planning to film part of her Christmas Speech there, but more exciting for the children was the news that The Real Father Christmas was coming to visit.

 

‘Christmas Department’ was a runner up in 5 Minute Fiction’s Christmas competition 2012 and was featured on Christmas Eve in the on line Story Advent Calendar.

It rounds up the collection of stories in Hallows and Heretics – twenty four tales to take you through the year.

 

 

 

Youtube Nativity

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 6 Comments

Last century, in a previous incarnation, I went to mother and toddler groups; no doubt they have to be called something else now, Kids and Karers? We did have one granny, a few child minders and a couple of fathers. It was one of these fathers who brought his video camera along, no one else possessed such equipment. We thought he was showing off and hovering over his poor child. The ethos of the club was to ignore the little ones while indulging in a good gossip. These days he would probably have to have a background check before even being allowed into the church hall, let alone with a video camera. I wonder where that little boy is now, perhaps hot housed into a world leader, his whole life recorded for posterity.

3

How would we all have fared, how different would our lives have been if we had grown up in the digital world, our pathetic appearance in the school nativity recorded and watched by grandchildren. I never got to be Mary or even an angel; in top infants I was merely the innkeeper’s wife with the line ‘Come this way.’ Would anyone want to see themselves coming last on sports day or dancing round the maypole in junior school? We did not get the ribbons tangled during our school’s centenary celebrations, but whether we looked elegant is another matter.

Our lives did not go completely unrecorded, Dad got a reel to reel tape recorder and secretly recorded Mum and the aunties, nobody could believe how awful their own voice sounded. When we had our school holiday in top juniors, several mothers went along as helpers, not mine thank goodness. One of these ladies had a cine camera, we were all going to be film stars. When it came time for the showing of the film, I did not appear at all.

There are families who have wonderful silent records of every Christmas, cine cameras were around for a long time before being superseded by videos, but most people took only photographs. Now every moment of a life can be recorded instantly, film or photo and broadcast to the world. Granddad on the other side of the world can see the new grandson having his umbilical cord cut. Great grandparents can see pretty in pink little miss precocious doing her first ballet exam at the age of two.

43339936_2314736698556107_1098449997759774720_o

But I feel more than a twinge of regret when I think of all the missed Instagrams I could have taken, pictures shared on Facebook and blogs written of my pre digital life. We have many photo albums, but camera film could not be wasted taking pictures of weird things; night scenes through rain splattered bus windows or the ubiquitous snaps of meals out or in.

Perhaps the more obsessed bloggers would have started much earlier if they had had the opportunity.

Baby Blogger…

Day One; with a bit of help from Mummy and Daddy I am starting this blog to record my whole life. Today was a bit of a milestone as I said my first words… blog, post and WordPress. Of course I know lots more words than that, but my lips and tongue aren’t working properly yet, just one of the challenges of being a baby.

Day Two; I have my first two followers, Mummy and Daddy… Sam the cat isn’t on WordPress so he can’t Like me, but here is a picture of him.

Day Three; We went to Wriggle and Rhyme Story Time at the library, I gave it four out of five stars…

 

My novel Quarter Acre Block is inspired by my early years.

 

The Game of Life

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 1 Comment

Warning: Do you dare to play the game of life? If you don’t want to read about illness and death or you dislike dark humour please avoid this blog, but I hope you will continue to visit my Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday blogs.

41290243_2273528329343611_2462619236892147712_o

 

Cyberspouse is feeling rather a fraud; having initiated drama, compassionate leave, flight booked, Christmas brought forward, he is feeling fine. But a letter arrives with NHS on the envelope; the copy of the letter sent to his GP from the oncologist. It wasn’t a joke after all, there it is in black and white. But there are still plenty of jokes in the house. We catch up with a film on television, looks like a good British comedy, winter comfort watching, all the familiar actors. ‘Finding your Feet’, retired people having fun, we know all about that. Our retired friends dash around the world, passionately pursue hobbies, whiz around with their bus passes or lounge at their beach hut. We do all of those except the first. But the film has included all the cliches, the sad widower, the wife with dementia and then… one of the characters has cancer, but of course doesn’t want to tell anybody and spoil their fun… you have to laugh, that was a good choice of film…