Silly Saturday – Jolly Journaling
pandemic
Friday Flash Fiction 636 – Bicycle
Cassie logged off her computer with relief, another work week at an end. She rotated her shoulders and stretched her back, longing to get out on her bike; she smiled to herself, it was like being a child again, out on your bike when you have done your homework and chores.
It wasn’t quite the freedom of childhood, she mused as she pedalled and picked up speed. The roads were quieter, but there was the added hazard of pedestrians suddenly darting across the road to avoid other walkers. Quiet lanes and cycle paths were busier than they used to be and passing other cyclists or overtaking while keeping a distance was awkward. She wondered where James rode, she had never spotted him among the other cyclists out and about. Perhaps they wouldn’t even recognise each other in their safety helmets.
Cassie braked suddenly as a child wobbled off its scooter onto the road in front of her. The seemingly unaccompanied child lay sprawled near the gutter with no sign of getting up. She glanced back up the road; the parents were chatting across a garden wall to someone standing at their front door, two more children were clambering on the wall. No one in the family had noticed anything amiss, if indeed this child of indeterminate sex and age actually belonged to them. What to do now? If Cassie helped it up she would be breaking the two metre rule of social distancing, but what if a car came speeding along? Delayed shock set in and the child suddenly started bawling. The parents looked up and came rushing along the pavement. Cassie’s relief was replaced by annoyance as they glared accusingly at her.
‘Lucky I managed to brake in time’ she stammered as she hopped back on her bike to distance herself.
James laughed as she related the story to him later, seated at the computer, glass of wine in hand.
‘Not a relaxing ride then.’
‘No, I was really looking forward to blowing away the cobwebs, the week I’ve had. I almost wish we were back at the office, almost, not quite.’
‘I think I would opt for returning to the office, at least you are in your own home. I feel like an overgrown school boy.’
For a moment Cassie felt a twinge of jealousy, imagining James at work, joking and flirting with the ladies of his department, probably younger and more interesting than her. She dismissed those thoughts and tried to be sympathetic.
‘But it can’t be easy for your mother either if she’s used to living by herself.’
‘That was before lock down, how would she manage without me?’
Very well, thought Cassie. She was feeling more and more sympathy with the mother and irritation with James. Surely moving back home had not been his only option after the divorce.
‘Are you in your old bedroom?’
‘No, no, thank goodness, this is Mum and Dad’s retirement home, downsize, nice quiet little town.’
‘Quiet… that doesn’t sound like anywhere near here.’
James laughed. ‘I’m over the other side of the water, funny we don’t know where each other lives. Stuck over the other side of the water now, ferry hasn’t been running for weeks; I enjoyed that commute to work, bicycle on the boat.’
Cassie found herself feeling relieved. James was at a safe distance in more ways than one, at least while lock down continued. He would remain safely inside her computer screen, no decisions needed yet about whether to meet up. Those blue eyes could not lure her against her better judgement… into what she wasn’t sure…
‘So where did you grow up?’ she steered the conversation back onto safer ground, away from the present or his failed marriage. She sat back and sipped her wine, ready to enjoy one of his funny stories.
Silly Saturday – Guide Lines for On Line Shopping
Before Covid 19 you may have had a weekly supermarket shop delivered or ordered the occasional item from Amazon. Perhaps you supported your local shops and never went on line. Now many of us are adding excitement to our isolation by exploring what can be bought on line. You may not want to sell your soul to Amazon, though if you are an author who self publishes on Amazon Kindle you already have. But there is a reason why Amazon is so successful; people look for what they want, find it, buy it in a matter of seconds and it arrives when predicted, or much sooner. If you have nothing better to do, you can track the progress of your present to yourself. Then the magic moment arrives when the door bell rings and there is a real human being come to visit you, the only human you have seen all week and they have left you a parcel on the doorstep. If you are lucky, as they rush back to their white van, they will turn and acknowledge your existence as you open your front door waving frantically and thanking them profusely.
You have bought a bright red microwave and some luxury toiletries to cheer yourself up, you can’t get a delivery slot with any supermarket, so can you actually buy food on Amazon? The only essentials that are readily available at a normal price are Tassimo pods for coffee machines. I did buy a fruit and veg box from a farm with British grown vegetables – contents may not be the same as in the illustration – I hoped we would get the bag of potatoes but NOT the boring iceberg lettuce. When the box came it was EXACTLY like the illustration, the lettuce will still be going when isolation is over…
But be careful you know what you are getting when you order food. Fancy a tin of Ambrosia rice pudding, a bit of comfort eating and it’s only £5.99 ( what! ) for a 400 g tin. It might be handy to read customer reviews – 1 star customer review
…whilst we are facing an international crisis and people are facing tragedy, you are profiteering. You should hang your head in shame
Did they not notice the price when they ordered? To be fair, you can order a dozen tins for £24… and at least it is real food.
Here is what else you might find at your door.
Ambrosia rice pudding can earrings.
A genuine replica Heinz Baked Beans tin to hide your valuables in.
Nice fresh farm eggs that are polished wood in a toy egg box.
Rubber pork chops for a toy shop – a shop that is plastic, not a shop that sells toys…
A basket of fruit – made of marzipan.
A breadmaker instead of a loaf of bread.
What surprises have you had ordering on line?
Take your mind off shopping and pandemics with some short stories.
A second anthology from the author of ‘Dark and Milk,’ including recent prize winning short stories. As you would expect, some tales are light, others very dark and you will not know which are which until it is too late! Visit places you may or may not find on a map, discover the Hambourne Chronicles and meet people who may not be what they seem.
Friday Flash Fiction – Shopping Delivery
Tom turned into the quiet road and parked outside number nine. An old lady was standing in the front garden wielding a pair of secateurs, the only sign of life in the street. He wondered if he had the right address, there was a lot of shopping for one old lady living alone and how was she going to carry all those bags inside? Well, not his problem, Tom was just glad to have a job. What a lark, this coronavirus thing was a blessing in disguise. People assumed he had lost work because of the world wide pandemic, not because he was a loser who had never held down a job for more than a year or managed to float a business successfully. What he did have was a clean driver’s licence and enough muscles left to heft trays out of the van.
‘Good afternoon.’ The woman stood firmly behind a large bush as if that would shield her from the virus.
Tom nodded as he pushed his barrow up the garden path.
‘Just ring the doorbell, my son will be down in a moment. I hope we have free range eggs this time.’
As Tom retreated to the front gate the door opened and a tall fortyish chap stepped out. Tom chuckled to himself, imagine being quarantined with your mother at that age, but he looked fit so surely he could get the shopping for her. The mother was still talking.
‘How many deliveries have you done today?’
‘This is my thirtieth’ he lied.
‘Oh wonderful, a true hero; not that I need a delivery, quite capable of doing my own shopping.’
‘Er hmm, well we have all had to change our routines Madam.’
‘How wide an area do you cover?’
‘The whole town… anyway I must…’
The son was hovering on the doorstep, obviously waiting for Tom to get back in his van and remove the threat of infection.
‘Mother, let the poor chap get on his way.’
James sighed, he supposed his mother’s only social life these days was shopping deliveries. She had practically raced to the front door when his Amazon parcel arrived, eager to wave and thank the bloke before he slipped out of the front gate and into his white van. Perhaps he should order some things on Amazon for her, just for the fun of getting parcels of her own, though he couldn’t think of anything she might want or need with a house full of books and CDs, a bedroom full of clothes and a bathroom full of toiletries. Maybe Cassie would have some ideas.
‘There’s enough shopping for a year, James.’
‘We might need it, I couldn’t get any more delivery slots, you’re not vulnerable enough.’
‘I am not vulnerable and you know I prefer to do my own shopping.’
‘We could order some things from Amazon, they never turn you down and you can get absolutely anything.’
‘I can’t think of anything I need.’
‘How about something fun for your birthday, as I can’t take you out for dinner or the theatre.’
‘James, you have never taken me out to dinner or the theatre on my birthday… or any other time.’
‘Erm, no, not when Dad was still alive.’
‘…and you were still married…’
‘Next year then, in the meantime you could take up a new interest.’
‘I have plenty of interests, or did until we all went into lockdown.’
‘Something you could do indoors, I could help you set up a vivarium for example.’
‘You may be forty four, but I can still see through you; the only one who wants a vivarium around here is you, but surely even Amazon can’t deliver geckos.’
Not for the first time James felt himself descending back into childhood, he had to get out of here, get his own place, but when were things ever going to return to normal? He envied Cassie her solitary life in her little house with the large vivarium; it sounded as if she had always been single, though she hadn’t really said. But she would laugh and sympathise with his predicament. Strange that neither of them knew where the other lived; perhaps it would spoil the on line nature of their friendship, put pressure on a perfect relationship. He looked at his watch, an hour till he could log off from work and log on for a Facetime chat with Cassie.
Silly Saturday – Paddington Pangolin
Police are searching for a pangolin believed to have entered the UK illegally. They have appealed for information as to the whereabouts of Penny Peters, head of Pangolin Preservation Project. She is alleged to have smuggled the pangolin in her hand luggage on the last flight back to Britain. Her parents, Polly and Peter Peters, speaking from their home in Surrey, denied their daughter was involved in any sort of crime.
‘Penny loved her job teaching English as a second language and she loves pangolins, but when this virus business started we urged her to get the next flight out. She insisted she couldn’t abandon her pupils or pangolins.’
![OIP[2]](https://tidalscribe.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/oip2.jpg?w=656)
Latest Update
Our reporter tracked Penny Peters down to a secret location and she agreed to an exclusive interview.
‘Yes I do know where Paddington Pangolin is, but he will never be safe until he is proved innocent.’
‘What is he accused of?’
At this point Ms Peters broke down in tears.
‘Sorry, sorry, it’s all been so stressful… let me start at the beginning. I rescued him from a wet market, I can’t reveal where for fear of reprisals. I smuggled him out on the last flight out to Heathrow. Then we jumped on the Heathrow Express; I was surprised how easy it all was. But when we arrived at Paddington Railway Station we were surrounded by an angry mob accusing this poor innocent pangolin of starting Corvid19. He fled in panic and I was terrified for his safety. I spent days searching the streets of London for him, wondering if he would find enough ants. Finally I found him in St. James’ Park, he had wanted to see The Queen, but she had already left Buckingham Palace to isolate at Windsor Castle.’
‘That is an amazing story, but surely the general public will only believe you if they actually see Paddington Pangolin?’
Latest Latest Update
Penny Peters agreed to be filmed with Paddington Pangolin on condition their whereabouts is never revealed and that we show the film on national news to expose the plight of pangolins. Tune into the ten o’clock news…
Friday Flash Fiction – Vivarium
Vivienne stood in her little back garden taking in the stillness, a feeling of holiday bliss swept over her; perhaps it was the wonderful sunny weather and strange atmosphere of this unique time. If she had to be imprisoned she was grateful to be at home and very thankful that her bossy daughter had not persuaded her to downsize after Malcomb’s death and move into one of those dreadful McCarthy and Stone flats.
After two years she now had the house just as she wanted, but that didn’t alter the fact that her independence had been swept from under her feet, transformed overnight by Boris Johnson from a fighting fit recycled teenager into a vulnerable over seventy. As if that wasn’t bad enough, her son had moved back in ‘for a week’ after his divorce, just in time to find himself locked in, locked down, or whatever they called it. Left to her own devices she would have sneaked out, but James was on guard, no doubt on instructions from his sister.
Of course she had seen it coming, the divorce; she didn’t dislike her daughter-in-law, there was little about her to dislike or like, James deserved so much more. She never said any of this to him, just pretended to be surprised and she was surprised that he had managed to come out of it with nothing except his bicycle and computer.
Vivienne relished the peace of the garden. It was just her luck that James’ company was letting everyone work from home, so now her ‘ancient’ computer had been relegated to the dining room and inconveniently updated to Windows 10. She only went on line to be in the Facebook groups for her crafts, book club and bridge society.
Her friends sympathised with the loss of her sewing room as James commandeered it for his bedroom, but pointed out she had gained someone to do the shopping and a free handyman. What they actually meant was she was lucky to have a son who they all thought utterly charming, with a great sense of humour that would brighten up the dreary days ahead.
Vivienne heard the back door open and realised her moments of solitude were over, James was back from his daily bike ride.
‘Hey Mother, talking to the plants again?’
‘You don’t need to worry until they answer back.’
‘I’ll just put the Tesco order on line then I’ll get us something nice for lunch, I popped into the bakers.’
Vivienne gritted her teeth, wondering which items she didn’t want would arrive on the Tesco van this week. At least he was keeping the bakers going, it would be awful for them to close and the high street lose their lovely coffee shop.
‘Look at this, Cassie sent a picture.’
He marched down the path with his mobile phone aloft and her curiosity was aroused. He kept mentioning Cassie, who he had met in the queue for the chemist and turned out to also work for MPJ. James spent a lot of time chatting to her on the computer, Zoomtime, Scope or whatever it was when you could see the other person. Vivienne wondered what she looked like, but in the bright outdoor light she could make out nothing on the tiny screen of his phone.
‘Is that her?’
‘No, it’s a picture of her vivarium, remember I always wanted one.’
‘I don’t even know what a vivarium is.’
‘A complete environment in a glass tank, in Cassie’s case a huge tank. You keep reptiles in it.’
‘I certainly haven’t forgotten that tarantula you had. What does Cassie keep in hers?’
‘Lizards, fascinating.’
‘You and Jane never had any pets.’ Or any babies, she refrained from mentioning the topic that was never spoken about; whether by choice or if not, whose fault it was. ‘You could have had a vivarium…’
James just smiled, they both new Jane would not have liked her pristine lounge taken over by a tank full of scenery from a David Attenborough documentary.
‘So now you have a girlfriend who loves lizards.’
‘Mother, she’s not a girlfriend, a friend, on her own, glad to have someone to chat to about work, but mostly not about work. You would like her, great sense of humour and loves cycling.’
Vivienne smiled. ‘So if this virus business is ever over, you could meet up with her for bike rides and talk about lizards…?’
Novel Virus or Virus Novel?
The word novel has been taken from writers, or perhaps taken back; it means new and a novel virus is… ‘a virus that has never previously infected humans, or hasn’t infected humans for a long time, it’s likely that almost no one will have immunity, or antibody to protect them against the novel virus.’
But that is the least of our worries as writers. Are you currently writing a novel set in the present? A spy or crime drama, a hero or con man moving in high society; they can’t go to the casino, it’s closed, Las Vegas and Monte Carlo are closed. The fifty storey power tower where your ruthless villain does his wheeling and dealing is empty and no one wants to meet up with him. Perhaps he will lend his extravagant new international exhibition centre to be used as a field hospital; unlikely, he has already fled to self isolate on that remote Pacific island he bought last month; luckily the hundred original occupants had already been ‘relocated.’
Perhaps you were writing about real people, ordinary good people who sit on London Bridges holding up everyday life to plead for the planet to be saved. Now everyday life has been halted in a spectacular fashion they could never have imagined and they are stuck at home wondering what to do next. You can’t write about ordinary bad people either. Fleeing from the police and getting lost in the crowd is off, so is getting on a plane and starting a new life in Brazil; all flights are cancelled and the police catch up with you at the bus station, arresting you merely for being outside, not for your impressive crime record.
What if your genre is modern romance? No one is going to find love with that person at work they hated at first, nor will they fall for the stranger in the bar. There is still on line dating, but if they can’t meet, how will the plot develop?
Perhaps you should start a brand new novel, a novel novel, a virus novel. Your hero is the scientist nobody believed, who reveals biological warfare and a virus stolen from a laboratory. Or closer to home, a cosy mystery; has the best friend really died alone in hospital with the virus, or is that just a cover for their disappearance?
Not to waste a good bad character, take up the plot on that Pacific Island where the villain is planning to use the pandemic to take control of the whole world; bring in your new heroine Jayne Blond.
Don’t forget children’s fiction. Paddington Pangolin; rescued from a wet market by a young woman teaching English as a second language. She smuggles him back to Heathrow on the last flight out and takes him on the Heathrow Express to Paddington Railway Station, where he unfortunately gets lost. More troubles lie in store when he is blamed for starting Corvid 19. Can he find his friend, can she keep him safe?
What are you latest ideas for writing?
My latest novel is set in 2014, which seems like history now, so why not escape to the past…
Friday Flash Fiction 626 – Working From Home
Today’s tale follows on from Sunday’s short story.
https://tidalscribe.wordpress.com/2020/03/29/sunday-short-story-720-the-queue/
Working from home was not quite how Cassie had imagined. Working on her own was fine, no interruptions, but conference calls with colleagues, from work or overseas, took much longer than expected. She had reckoned without the domestic factors.
They’re sharing a table with home schooling children, they have to be joking, haven’t they got grandparents to dump them with?
‘Sorry Cassie, isn’t it a nightmare, can’t leave them with Mum, she’s just had chemo.’
Cassie looked at the squabbling pair who kept looming into view; surely these were not the two adorable angels that they heard so much about from Gabbie in the office. At least she couldn’t get out of work now; Gabbie was usually more out of the office than in, taking time off every time one of the little darlings had a sniffle.
‘Did you email Singapore Gabbie?’
‘Singapore, oh my god, I was just about to when Felicity fell down the stairs.’
It was quite entertaining though, who would have imagined Gavin would choose such décor? What room was he actually working in, would it be rude to ask?
A huge black hairy face filled the computer screen.
‘Down Hugo. Sorry Cassie, he’s usually out with the dog walker at this time of the day, he thinks it’s Christmas. Yes I’ll take you out in a moment, Hugo that is, not you Cassie… Did Gabbie email Singapore? It’s chaos at her place.’
‘Good morning Cassie, meet Mr. Snuggles.’
A bundle of fur with an evil face sat on John’s lap.
‘If we get cut off, blame the cat.’
They got cut off.
She did not even recognise the woman on the three way conference call and what on earth was that top she was wearing or was it a …
‘Good morning, is Singapore sorted yet, did that email go, hope you don’t mind the baby… isn’t this working from home great, no pumping and expressing.’
Cassie needed a coffee, but she ought to touch base with the boss first.
‘Yes Mr. Fenton, no, I’m going to email Singapore right now, it’s not easy getting everyone into this working from home routine.’
A slender brown arm appeared at the side of her screen and placed a bone china cup and saucer on Mr. Fenton’s mahogany desk, followed by a delicate tea plate with two chocolate biscuits. Who was that woman? Unlikely to be the insipid plump wife he had brought to the Christmas dinner and dance.
The one person she had not linked up with, had any contact with, was the chap from the queue at the chemist. She had looked him up as soon as she got home; a completely different department, which was good from a professional versus socialising point of view. Would he contact her, what were the rules of dating for the over forties, not that they were dating… had he thought better of it, wrongly assuming she could be desperately seeking a responsible man to impregnate her before it was too late. This morning’s glimpses into the home life of others had confirmed she had no desire for a baby, dog, or cat… but supposing he had children of his own, they knew nothing about each other…
Her computer pinged, a new email, from him.
‘Coffee break time, do you want to Zoom or Facetime?’
Five minutes later Cassie was laughing; the blue eyes were just as penetrating on the screen with crinkle lines evidence that he laughed a lot and could make her laugh as he described his morning.
‘Mummy, Mummy, Felix has done a poo on the carpet – I didn’t know if Felix was a cat or a brat…. Oh Cassie, sorry, do you have children or pets…’
‘No way, well only a vivarium…’
The NHS
I was going to write about The NHS weeks ago, but events kept overtaking me and the subject.
‘The National Health Service is the publicly funded healthcare system of the United Kingdom. It is made up of four separate systems that serve each part of the UK: The National Health Service in England, NHS Scotland, NHS Wales and Health and Social Care in Northern Ireland. They were established together in 1948 as one of the major social reforms following the Second World War. The founding principles were that services should be comprehensive, universal and free at the point of delivery. Each service provides a comprehensive range of health services, free at the point of use for people ordinarily resident in the United Kingdom, apart from dental treatment and optical care. The English NHS also requires patients to pay prescription charges with a range of exemptions from these charges.’
Often the NHS is only in our thoughts when we are having our own personal dramas. Sometimes it is in the news for the wrong reasons, when things go drastically wrong. At present it is in the news all the time, it IS The News. The system that has cared for most of us from before we were born until we take our last breath is now responsible for steering the UK through the world wide pandemic. Whilst many people have been told not to go to work and stay at home, NHS staff are hardly seeing their homes. Government quickly forgets all the cut backs, poor pay for some, meddling, outsourcing and attempts to sell bits off that put the NHS at risk and expect all the staff to rise to the challenge… and they have. Perhaps when or if this is over those in power will do the right thing, instead of the public having to continually sign petitions pleading for our national treasure to be protected.
I recently finished reading Adam Kay’s Book This Is Going to Hurt: Secret Diaries of a Junior Doctor and reviewed it on Goodreads.
‘When my planned caesarean for our first baby ( breech ) turned into a 1am Sunday morning dash to Queen Charlotte’s Hospital a week early, one of the staff said ‘You’re in luck, the registrar’s on tonight’ I wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t been on. They may also have said I was lucky it was a quiet night. Anyway, everything proceeded quickly. When the same early imminent arrival happened with my third caesarean the same hospital was busy with a worrying lack of progress; the surgeon told me he had another emergency caesarean to perform and he had rung the consultant – for advice, not actually to come in; consultants don’t come in during the night as you will find out when you read this book! The anaesthetist said he had been on for 24 hours, I was shocked, but this was no doubt the norm, then and now. Adam Kay’s book is very funny, but there are dark moments and to an outsider it seems a realistic portrayal of a medical career, the dedication of those who work for the NHS and the cavalier attitude of management and government to our most important and treasured institution. Many readers will find anecdotes that relate to their family’s experiences and people who enjoy medical things are bound to relish this book.’
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35235302-this-is-going-to-hurt
Adam Kay is now a writer and comedian, no longer a doctor. Is the NHS perfect? Of course not, it’s staffed by human beings, some not as caring as they should be, some arrogant and others too scared to be whistle blowers. Tales of what went wrong and what went right are for another time.
One of the sad aspects of the virus tragedy is that the seriously ill are in isolation, they are not able to see any loved ones. Nor do they have the comfort of seeing the compassionate faces of the medical staff, who in all their protective gear must look like aliens or spacemen to their patients. Those of us who have had treatment in normal times know staff come from all over the world, international cooperation at its best.
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 