Writing

Mighty

“That is a mighty fine wheelbarrow you’ve got there.”

She nods but says nothing in response.

“Isn’t it a mighty day all the same for the bog?

She wipes the sweat from her brow.

“Sure you are a mighty woman to be out here working hard.”

She smiles, but continues her work without reply.

“Wasn’t that a mighty match the other day.”

She has no idea what match he means.

“Well I better head I suppose. Mighty good talking to ya.”

mighty wheelbarrow

mighty wheelbarrow

via Daily Prompt: Mighty

Advertisements

Memorise

Do you remember those days at school when you had to memorise your times tables, the counties of Ireland, your spellings, your teacher’s favourite poem? It seems a long time ago.

Tomorrow is the 1st of September, and my two children will go back to school. For a week now they have been taking out their school bags. Checking and double checking they have all the books on their list and the specified number of copies. Their pencil cases are filled with freshly sharpened pencils, pristine erasers and bright twistables. Everything has a name label,  declaring ownership.

On the kitchen table the lunch boxes lie waiting to be filled. Upstairs new uniforms, one size bigger than last year, hang neatly pressed on hangers.

Tomorrow after the pandemonium of getting them out in time, I will sit and listen. But the house will be silent. No howls of laughter, no shouting, no issuing of instructions. The toys too will lie silent; no having to bring home hay, the toy horse will not have to give birth to another foal, the man with the missing leg will not be taken to the hospital, the dolls will not have to get dressed, the lego will lie where it is on the floor. It has been a soap opera of events and goings on, a riot of imagination.

I love listening to their imagination run free. Deep down I know that this time to be themselves will be more valuable than anything they can learn by memorising things at school.

I will miss the both. But I will try and remember that exploration of their minds that I have been privy to for the last few weeks.  Because in that time they have been who ever they have wanted to be, in what ever way they wanted to be. And that, in my opinion, is worth a whole term of school work.

 

 

Daily Prompt: Memorize

Imaginary

‘Where’s Sarah today?’

‘She’s gone to America?’

‘America?’

‘Yes, America.’

‘But she was only in London yesterday.’

‘So?’

‘Well America is a long way from London?’

‘She likes to travel.’

‘She must do. What else does she like?’

‘She likes playing.’

‘What does she like playing?’

‘She likes playing fairies.’

‘Who does she play with?’

‘Me of course.’

‘Does she have other friends.’

‘No, only me.’

Mother goes outside to hang the washing out on the line. When she comes back someone has taken out a packet of biscuit and there are crumbs and broken biscuits everywhere. Her daughter is playing innocently on the floor with her favourite dolls.

‘What happened here?’

‘It wasn’t me, it was Sarah.’

‘I thought Sarah was in America?’

‘She just came back.’

 

Inspired by an Imaginary childhood friend.

Oversight

She told them it was an oversight.  Yes, they had filled out the right form and given the correct deposit, but no, there was no room for them because someone had forgotten to give them the second form. Without the second form she could not issue them with a key for the room. No, it was not just a matter of them filling in the form now. The form needed to be checked and signed off by one of the supervisors. No, all the supervisors finished early on a Friday and they would not be back till Monday morning. Yes, she understood that they had nowhere to stay, and yes, she was very sorry but really there was nothing she could do. Yes, she knew it was snowing and minus ten outside. But really it wasn’t her problem.

oversight

Someday

Someday I’ll wish upon a star.…….. The words from ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’, a song I have loved since childhood. The Wizard of Oz is one of the few films I remember watching as a child, on an old black and white TV, that sometimes went fuzzy so you had to bang the side or top of the TV to get it going again. Do you remember those days?

Some days I wonder, if like Dorothy in the film, we will wake up where the clouds are far behind us?  It seems we live in trouble times. Both on a personal level and on a wider scale I find the world is a challenging place.

Like Dorothy though we must all follow our own yellow brick road. We do not know what challenges lie along that road and no doubt on the way we will make our own friends, just like Dorothy did; Scarecrow, Lion and Tin man; and maybe our own enemies (like the Wicked Witch of the West). Dorothy stuck with her friends though and together they did get to the Emerald City. And even though the Wizard was not what they had hoped for he did give them each a gift. We may find ourselves lacking in some traits (like the lion lacked courage) but by working together we can be strong and can reacch our goals.

Like Dorothy, many of us would like to find our own place were dreams really do come true. But perhaps like Dorothy we don’t need to look too far, and that at the end of the day there is really no place like home.

 

Rainbow

Rainbow

via Daily Prompt: Someday

The art of writing

I have handwritten notebooks going back years. Some with quotes, some with snatches of ideas, descriptions, or ideas for editing work. Here are just a couple of transcripts from them: –

Observation from an airport Dec 2002:

  • 20 stone plus, he sits with his headphones- bopping slightly. Dressed in black, his goaty beard is hardly worth the effort. On his knees, his bag, he hugs it like a baby.

Observation on a plan heading for Ireland

  • Sitting in front of me are a couple; he’s Irish, she may be English (but of African Origin). He turns to her and gently kisses her cheek, then with his hand gently traces her jawline. It is an intimate gesture I would not have expected from an Irish man!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have in my possession a diary of an elderly relative of mine. Unfortunately the vast majority of her diaries were lost. I say unfortunately, because even though the entries are short (the diaries were those small pocket ones) each day tells it’s own story. I would love to take these snippets and create a story. In my mind, would be the original author; a small yet feisty lady (in her seventies when I really got to know her), full of sharp wit that she would use against anyone she felt deserved it (and usually they did!). I will transcribe a week from February 2009 when she was in her 86th and penultimate year:

Monday 2nd February

After a disturbed night with high winds & flurries of snow I got up at 7.20. Did not dare open front door to put dustbins out. V frosty but not much snow.

Tuesday 3rd February

Sun all day, no sign of snow. The council began bull-dozing the Parkes lovely hse & making a bonfire of the wood

Wednesday 4th February

Up at 7am for ??. Another sunny day but temps overnight were -3. No wind. Bonfire going all day. Shelia in Kirton died.

Thursday 5th February

A fowl AM at 7am. Rained overnight. Gloomy & misty all day. V quiet next door. She is at Papsworth hosp, late back

Friday 6th February

V cold overnight. Rained until 11am, then foggy & gloomy – no wind. Bonfire of all the wood in Parkes hse still burns.

Saturday 7th February

Even thou low temp the sun is really strong all day

Sunday 8th February

Mary’s anniv 2002

V cold but sunny all day. The “mart” mob on the doorstep until 4pm even thou it was getting frosty.

 

k_diary060209

Unfinished

Oh there are so many unfinished pieces of writing drifting like ghosts around the computer hard drive. Unfinished stories, unfinished poems, unfinished novels. I will start with great gusto; allocate an hour or two each day and get lots done. Then like a steam train out of coal I begin to slow. Then work or something else gets on the track, blocks the way and that is it. I can find the unfinished piece months, maybe years later, wallowing in my creative writing folder, sitting there unloved, and unfinished!!

 

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

via Daily Prompt: Unfinished