Inspiring Stuff | writermummy

One of the many blizzards today (photo doesn't do it justice)

One of many blizzards today (photo doesn’t do it justice)

March has truly been roaring today. If it is true that it comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb we’re in for some cracking Easter Weekend weather. Here’s hoping!

I braved the minus-seven blizzard to walk the dog this afternoon and was inspired to write Claire’s post today about the weather. Not sure where she’s going to be hiking yet, still have to research that bit.

It is also inspired by my discovery of Christian Around Britain. Following an ex-soldier as he walks the entire 6500 miles of UK coastline without stopping, to highlight the plight of homeless exservicemen. Christian says:

“On the 8th of the 8th 2012 I am embarking on a journey which will either kill me or make me. I am going to walk the whole coastline of Britain non stop, which is approx a 6500 mile journey, equivalent to walking from John O Groats to Landsend seven and a half times, and will take between 18 months and 2 years to complete, I will be starting in Blackpool and finishing in Blackpool.”

On his Facebook support page they also add:

Christian has NO support team nor NO PR team, contrary to popular belief! This walk is off his own back and he walks independently to his OWN schedule. We are humbled by his monumentous efforts. He is not being paid by anyone for this task.

He sleeps rough to highlight the plight of homeless ex-service personnel. He will not accept a comfy bed in a house but garages, sheds or a safe garden would be looked at! If he does not accept your offer of shelter, please DO NOT be offended, he wants to maintain his independence and will only stop when he reaches his destination for the day (though breakfast, a cuppa or a pint is gratefully accepted!). We are so grateful though for all your offers and he will look at his point of rest on the day and look at the support map.

He has posted photos of the snowy weather down by Beachy Head where he has been today (on his birthday). My sister said (jokingly) on Facebook ‘a year or two spent walking sounds like fun to me’. After twenty minutes outside today, with full snow gear on top to toe, I was frozen to the core and desperate for a cuppa. I’m sure it’ll be fun in summer but not now. It certainly puts Claire’s little challenge to shame. Maybe I’ll have Claire hear about Christian or bump into him or something! 🙂

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The thrumming of the wind through the trees sounded like the roar of a jet engine. It made Claire think of her planned trip to the Maldives for the first time since dropping Josh at Manchester airport.

I’d give half my shoe collection to be walking across the tarmac headed for a plane right now.

The wind blew sideways, sneaking through a chink in her thinsulate armour. It froze her neck and sent shudders down inside her coat. She huddled in deeper and pulled at the fleece to protect her skin from the arctic blast.

Shivering Mountain is right. Maybe I should have checked the forecast before I left Castleton Hostel.

Claire tried to take in the view but it hurt too much to raise her head into the gale. A glittering light drew her gaze and she realised the sun was peeking through the cloud, taunting her like a holiday post card.

What are you trying to say Sun? Are you twinkling Look at me! In parts of the world I’m hot and inviting. I warm the sand and bronze the skin. Not here, though. Here I just highlight the puddles and make the wind-torn trees look like a mockery of spring.

Claire turned her back on the mocking sun and pushed on. She felt like one of those toddlers she saw out with their mummies: dressed in snowsuits, unable to walk or use their arms. Like mini-Michelin Men with only their red faces showing beneath brightly coloured bobble hats.

Dressed like a baby, pretending to be the sun. I think I’m losing it. Thanks Carl, your job is done.

After half an hour Claire tugged the fleece scarf away from her throat, desperate for air.

How can I be freezing and sweating like a racehorse at the same time? And where is that damn fort? The guide said it was a short and easy walk to the top of Mam Tor. In the summer maybe.

The roaring wind thrust piled-up clouds before it, until the sun was completely hidden and Claire’s visibility reduced to several metres of swirling snow. The flurries chased every which way like shoppers on the first day of the sales. Their hurried movement made her twitchy as if she really was fighting foot and elbow in Hobbs for the best bargains.

Claire raised her head, squinting through the pellets of ice stinging her eyes. The path, that had been clear in front of her a heartbeat ago, had vanished beneath a swirling curtain of white.

Bugger. I knew I should have brought a map. Not that it would help me much now. Pulling off one glove with her teeth, Claire reached into her pocket for her iPhone. Her numb hands dropped it and it bounced once before landing in the gathering snow.

Double bugger.

She dropped to her knees and gathered up her phone as she might a child who had fallen from a tree. Please be okay, please be okay. She pressed the on button and prayed for life. The screen lit up in the gloom and Claire felt her heartbeat slow to its normal tread.

The snow continued to fall, creeping down her neck and soaking her clothes as she squatted on the floor and shielded the screen with her body. With one senseless hand she typed her location into the Maps program. The signal was weak and it took an age for the screen to load. At last a map appeared with a dot showing her position on Mam Tor. She zoomed in and her heart jolted as she saw the crumbling cliff inches from her current location.

It can’t be that close, I would have noticed it before the weather closed in. Despite her confidence she didn’t fancy trying to walk any further until the snow stopped. A quick glance informed her there was no shelter so she hunkered down and hoped the vicious wind would come to her rescue and blast the cloud away. Come back taunting sun, all is forgiven.

Her hand hovered over the call button as she felt a biting need to talk to another human being. No one even knows I’m up here. Damn you Carl for your stupid goading and damn me too for reacting to it.

Her mouth held the words “Call Michael”, knowing the phone would respond and dial up a number she had yet to delete. She swallowed hard and turned her back to the wind.

***

Rambling in the Dark Peaks (isobelgreenlees.wordpress.com)

Freedom: From the Alan Watts video

The Alan Watts video, What if Money Didn’t Matter?, came my way today via Facebook. It’s been around a while so I’m sure most people have seen it. If you haven’t, check it out on YouTube.

My favourite line (describing schooling and how we raise our kids to want the things we want) is

“it’s all retch and no vomit.”

You can’t beat that for an image with impact.

Actually the line that truly resonated was this:

“Better to have a short life that is full of what you like doing than a long life spent in a miserable way.”

Now I know if you have kids, responsibilities, mortgages and so forth, this is a difficult thing to fit into your life. Many of the less positive comments beneath the video are along the lines of “that’s all well and good but I’m a single mum / I have a mortgage / I have bills to pay, I can’t afford to do what I want.” Or my favourite, “what; do I tell my kids not to bother with their homework?”. To me that has missed the point. It doesn’t have to be so black and white. We can knuckle down to hard work and try to direct that towards something we will love doing in the future. And if in some ways we are already caught in the trap, stuck in a career that’s more about money than happiness, it doesn’t mean we can’t try and pass a different ethos onto our children.

Yes kids still need to do their homework.

What if Money didn’t Matter?

Having aspirations doesn’t mean it won’t take hard work to realise them. I think the message is to find something you love and put it nearer the centre of your career than the need to get rich.

When my husband first watched the video he realised he didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have to earn money. That’s a sad realisation at forty. He’s given it some thought and come up with some answers but I think it’s important to know what you love doing even if it isn’t possible to do it.

I’m probably rambling making no sense: it’s been a long day on little sleep and too much coughing. I might revisit this topic when I’m feeling more lucid. In the meantime I love the first screenshot I captured, I think it encapsulates the journey Claire is on as she realises life is about more than earning enough money to buy the next must-have designer shoes.

On a more personal/immediate note my Volume 1 book has been approved for the premium catalogue on Smashwords. I wasn’t expecting to get that first go and it just shows it is worth trawling through the style guide and grappling with the finer points of Word Templates. Even though I’m making no money from this book it’s still a great learning curve if I decide to publish Pictures of Love/Baby Blues & Wedding Shoes (whichever title I go with) as an e-book. I wish I could self-publish Dragon Wraiths but the four different fonts I’ve used scupper that idea. Unless I can devise a different way to portray dragons talking internally and externally!

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“Josh?” Claire looked over at the thatch of messy blonde hair; all she could see of her travelling companion as he lounged on the sofa with a paperback raised over his head. She wanted to grill him about his blog. She had tried several times already but each time he seemed to escape the question. Hopefully I’ve got him pinned now.

Josh twisted round to face her, his eyes veiled, almost wary, as if he knew what she wanted to ask.

“Er, can you remember the name of the guy holding the rope this morning?”

Josh’s frown relaxed into a wicked smile that set fire to the amber flecks in his brown eyes. “What, you mean the one who pissed his pants when you threw yourself off a fifty foot cliff without checking he was ready?”

“I checked he was holding the rope. It’s not my fault he was looking the other way and burned his hands. He should have been paying attention.”

“You’d been hovering at the edge like a scaredy cat for nearly twenty minutes; you can’t blame the guy for getting bored.”

Claire flushed at the memory. Who knew I was scared of heights? It had never been an issue before. The highest things in her life prior to starting this assignment were her six inch steel stilettos.

“The name?” Her voice rang with dire consequences if Josh pursued the current conversation. She had heard every joke he knew about being a wimp.

Josh grinned. “Bill. His name was Bill. Poor burnt Bill.”

Claire raised an eyebrow and Josh retreated behind his book, his chuckles drifting across the room like cigarette smoke.

Why does he keep evading enquiries about his blog? Claire stared first at the dirty blonde hair then at her iPad screen. He was the one who told me he wrote a blog. What’s the big secret? She tried to recall exactly what Josh had said. Something about keeping in touch with the folks back home.

She opened her search engine and typed in “Aussie down under,” before realising that was going to return a million results. She typed a few other phrases but they were equally generic and useless. She had no idea how to find out what Josh’s blog was. Or why it was important to her to do so. I guess when you share a room with someone, even if it’s just because it’s more convenient, you want to know something about them. As the words walked through her head Claire realised she didn’t even know Josh’s surname or the part of Australia he was from. It’s as if he doesn’t want anyone to be able to trace him. Yet if he’s really in hiding why is he travelling with me? Surely there are easier ways of getting around and staying invisible.

Claire shook away the thoughts and returned to the tricky task of writing her account of the morning’s abseiling escapade without portraying herself as a complete idiot. The words refused to come, even with the pictures Josh had taken. Ignoring the dozen shots of her bottom framed by the harness she managed to find one or two that stood out. A nice profile shot of her gazing back up the waterfall, one that seemed to say I did that. Another of her with the whole group, everyone beaming. He certainly captured the essence of the moment. I’m impressed. And still Claire couldn’t dislodge the voice of curiosity that kept prompting that unwanted question.

What does Josh blog about. And, more importantly, what is he hiding?

***