Scootering and the School Run: 2013 365 Challenge #51

Glapthorn Road, Oundle in the sun (Photo by Peter Whatley)

Glapthorn Road, Oundle in the sun – but without the mass of scootering children! (Photo by Peter Whatley)

Another day when I’m glad of my deadline buffer. I normally write posts the night before but give myself until 10am the following morning. It’s currently 8am and I’ve only just opened my laptop. Gorgeous wonderful hubbie is downstairs feeding the children. I probably have thirty minutes before there is something urgent they have to ask mummy about… Best get on with it then!

The reason I didn’t start yesterday is because I had a day in the life of a Town Mum and by 8pm could neither stand, walk or speak I was so tired.

I’m used to driving the children everywhere because I live out in the sticks. I think I’m pretty fit but nothing tests your stamina like carrying a 14kg child for about a mile on the school run because he fell off his new scooter almost instantly and wouldn’t get back on. I think my left arm is twice the length of the right one now!

Scootering at the park is much easier than on the school run

Thankfully when my wonderful daughter face-planted the pavement, after being flipped off her new scooter, and grazed her nose and chin she battled on bravely (after a most impressive screaming fit) and did the whole journey, dodging tree roots, uneven paving and about 100 other kids all spilling out from school, half of them also on Micro scooters.

I used to envy my friends for living in town but the school run was a whole new experience. And it was sunny and warm. I can’t imagine what it’s like in the snow and ice! Maybe I’ll stop dreaming up ways we can afford a house in town and stick to ferrying my kids around by car with trips to the park on the way home.

Actually the kids were amazing all day, and were suitably rewarded with ice cream and pizza for tea (in that order!) I ended up helping my friend with a piece of work on the computer for several hours while my two played with her daughter and they didn’t break anything. I found my (2 year-old) son tucked up in my friend’s bed with her daughter (she’s 4, same as Amber) and all they had done was tip water on the duvet. Given her make-up bag was right there it could have been much worse!

Spending too much time on social media and not enough with the kids…

The only bit of the day that left me sad was reading a blog post by Allaboutmanners on how a working mum can stay present and focussed on her children rather than being distracted by technology all the time. I know I’m not getting the balance right at the moment. My kids are always telling me off for checking emails or “just doing this load of laundry” / “just feeding the dog” / “just running the hoover round”.

I used to get more chores done on nursery days (particularly when I had three days a week to do them) and now I feel they rarely get my undivided attention because there are always a zillion things that need doing. I read the blog post on my phone while watching the kids in my friend’s playroom so it caused the worst kind of guilt!

I’ve been thinking about it a lot since and the guilt has diminished a bit. I know I don’t have the balance right, but I also know it is very difficult to remain present for any length of time with toddlers and preschoolers unless that’s your vocation. If my children have my undivided attention they play up against each other, and there is always one that isn’t happy. If I drift off and do work sometimes they moan but sometimes they go and play beautifully together, like they did at my friend’s house yesterday. I may not always make them feel the most special beings in the universe but I do teach them that the world doesn’t always revolve around them and to find their own entertainment. Weighed up in the balance I feel it’s better than an artificial life of either 5-day-nursery-care or 5-day-Mummy-attention. Anyway, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it! 🙂

Ooh, it’s 8.29am, look at all my waffle. I’d better find out where I left Claire and move her on to her next challenge, whilst also trying to ignore the crying and screaming downstairs….

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Claire looked round towards the door at the sound of voices approaching the hostel. She knew that no one she wanted to see was likely to walk in and still she looked. Just because I’m still in the Lakes doesn’t mean he’s going to turn up. There must be at least twenty hostels in Cumbria and, besides, this isn’t Casablanca.

She turned back to the iPad and concentrated on finding something interesting to say about John Ruskin her trip to Brantwood

I can’t really put ‘bumped into catty old school friend in the most random place today and it turns out she hated me as much as I hated her. Isn’t life funny?’

What else to write though? It was hardly a high-adrenalin activity wandering round a museum or supping a latte in the café.

If I’m going to keep my job I need blog traffic. I can’t give Carl an excuse to call this venture a failure. She thought about making up an adventure but knew she’d get found out in a heartbeat. There might be only ten people following my blog but if I say I walked Striding Edge this morning and I didn’t you can bet they’ll know someone who was up there or I’ll get the weather wrong.

Claire gazed around the hostel lounge, taking in the stylish fireplace and soothing décor, and felt pleased with herself for stumbling across it in the guide book. She’d been flicking through trying to find a hostel that wasn’t a bunkhouse and her eye had stopped at what she thought was the Holy Cow hostel. Smiling she had thumbed back through the pages and was disappointed that it actually said Holly How. I prefer my version.

Claire heard voices outside the lounge door and the hairs on her arm rose. Just because it’s an Australian accent doesn’t mean anything. You’re worse than a teenager at a school disco. Give it up and write your damn blog.

Tapping at the iPad Claire wrote some purple prose about the views from Brantwood and included a couple of inspirational Ruskin quotes. The voices in the hallway grew louder and then diminished, as the new arrivals dispersed to their various dorm rooms. It sounded like a bus-load had arrived and Claire hoped only the quiet ones were heading for her dorm. It had been empty when she arrived and she’d had a sneaky hope that it might remain that way.

I knew that was too much to ask.

Claire bent her head over her phone, searching through her photos to find one suitable for the blog. She heard someone enter the lounge but forced herself not to look up.

The newcomer walked across the room and stood near the sofa without speaking. Still Claire refused to look up. She knew she was being rude, breaking some kind of hostelling rule by not welcoming the new arrival. She heard the stranger clear their throat, then laugh.

“Hey Claire. Saw the rust bucket outside in the car park. Not in Liverpool then?”

Heart thudding, Claire at last looked up and felt a surge in her chest that wouldn’t have embarrassed her teenage self. Her face spread in an involuntary grin as she gazed at the tanned skin and dirty-blonde hair.

“Hi Josh.”

***

Win a Micro-Scooter School Bag (northernmum.com)
Children driven 500 yards to school – Confused.com (confused.com)
Children learn by example (imconfident.wordpress.com)
Slow down mummy (chatterboxmediauk.wordpress.com)
That work-life balance again… (birthandbabynetwork.com)
Working mummy! (sophieillustration.co.uk)

Laundry Baskets and Nene Valley Living: 2013 365 Challenge #45

Wriggly Worms – the many usages of a laundry basket #1

I had some exciting news today. Our local free magazine – Nene Valley Living – has agreed to publish an ‘interview with author Amanda Martin’ that I wrote for them, focusing on the daily blog and the free Two-Hundred Steps Home ebook. The editor apologised that they wouldn’t be able to pay me for the feature (I had no expectation of payment, so was highly amused) as they don’t have much editorial budget. When I had stopped laughing I emailed back and said That’s okay, it’s the promotion that’s key. Hopefully I’ll be in the April or May edition, so watch this space. My first successful piece of marketing – hurrah!

I have decided that I need to get a professional photograph of me taken however, as the editor would like a headshot and the best I have is one I cropped from me heavily pregnant with my second child. I rarely wear make up these days and my hair is only straight on the annual event of a hair cut. Even though the feature is about ‘WriterMummy’ it would be nice to look vaguely professional!

Scary Monsters - the many uses of a laundry basket #2

Scary Monsters – uses of a laundry basket #2

It’s snowing here again. Not the 3 feet of snow my sister has had in Boston, more like a third of an inch, but it it freezing and I confess to being a bit tired of winter now. It’s hard to take the kids out when it’s cold as the whole time is spent putting hats and gloves back on and rubbing life back into frozen fingers. Friends came over and we turned the house into an indoor park with play tent, football goal and building blocks. Their favourite toy? Some old laundry baskets I have which turned them into wriggly worms and scary monsters. Bless.

Think Claire might get out in some more clement weather today just because I feel the need for it. Never mind that it’s probably never sunny in the Lake District in March, I think some poetic licence is called for.

Update. I decided to set Claire a little challenge instead, courtesy of a Youtube video I came across while researching Windermere. She’ll have to go hiking in the sun tomorrow.

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“Your turn Claire.”

The bridge stretched ahead of her like something out of an Indiana Jones movie. She glanced down, half expecting to see a rushing torrent fifty feet below. Instead there was just a car park at a distance of less than fifteen feet. She searched for her Skoda in the distance then looked back down at the ground. It was a mistake. The bile rose in her throat before sinking down to churn up her stomach. She dragged her eyes back to the structure in front of her.

Dammit I knew this was a stupid idea. The bridge hadn’t appeared that wide when she’d driven underneath it. Now it might as well span the Niagara Falls. Tentatively Claire put one foot on the first of the planks and the whole structure shook as if a force seven earthquake had just hit Windermere. Claire quickly pulled her leg back and retreated inside the tower. She could feel several pairs of eyes on her, willing her on. Behind her a lad sniggered.

Claire inhaled, put one foot on the plank, then another. Willing herself on she gripped the ropes until they tore at her hands and forced herself to cross the bridge. Her heart swooped like a released bird as she reached the tree trunk and wrapped her arms around it.

I did it. I crossed it. She pirouetted round the tree-trunk, surveying the rest of the course.

The next challenge was another bridge. Okay, I can do that now. Except this one didn’t have any ropes to hold onto. You have to be kidding. What? I’m meant to walk across it just balancing? I’m not a circus freak. Claire wished she could have watched the person in front do it, but they were already out of sight further down the course. Claire wrapped her hands around her rope harness and pulled, making sure it would hold. Then she closed her eyes and put her foot on the structure. It tipped sideways, throwing her stomach to the ground.

“Bollocks.” The word slipped out and Claire looked round to make sure the person coming up behind her hadn’t heard. She saw a petit figure bouncing across the bridge and was faced with the prospect of sharing a small platform with a bouncy child or running across a few pieces of wood stretched between two ropes. As the sound of giggling came nearer Claire swallowed, urging her legs to move. It was no good. Her feet were glued to the platform. No matter how many curses she yelled inside the cavern of her mind her feet refused to move.

Eventually a voice permeated the greyness.

“Hey, lady?”

Claire turned to locate the source and her gaze met a pair of clear blue eyes peering up at her from beneath a giant helmet. It looked like a cheeky beetle. The child was younger than Sky. Who lets a five-year-old up here? Claire grimaced at the girl, not trusting herself to speak.

“It’s your turn lady. It’s okay. I did this twice already, it’s easy peasy. Besides, you can’t fall.” She leaned sideways until the rope at her waist went tight then took her feet off the platform.

“Don’t do that!” Claire’s voice was probably only audible to dogs. The girl laughed and swung herself back onto the platform. She grinned at Claire, then raised an eyebrow as if to say Go on!

Claire looked at the grinning eyes and felt her cheeks redden. I will not be shown up by a child. She turned, inhaled, and ran. Her body slammed into the next tree trunk and she felt the bark graze her cheek. As her heart rate slowed to a mere gallop Claire turned to watch the child hoping gracefully across the rope structure. It made her feel ancient.

She conquered a free step to a small plank, then contemplated a snarl of ropes that linked her tree to the next.

I’m not a spider or a rat. How does this work?

Reaching out, Claire took hold of the rope, hoping she didn’t get tangled or, worse still, break a nail. I’m glad Josh isn’t here. I can just imagine the grief he would be giving me right now. That’s if he wasn’t standing underneath passing comment on my derriere.

The next crossing looked like a stretched-out clothes dryer, the kind her gran used to put ginormous grey knickers on in the utility room. It felt as stable as a deckchair when she put her weight on it.

Slowly, carefully, Claire crept round the course, all the while trying to stay ahead of the girl, as much to avoid the patronising encouragement as the excessive bouncing.

At last she reached the end of the course, only then realising she was on a different tree to the one connected to the Indiana Jones bridge.

How do I get down?

Claire stood on the platform and looked over at the tower where she started. Then she noticed a small sign next to her. Zip wire? Oh no. How did I miss that?

“Go on lady, just step off. It isn’t scary.” Claire turned to see the beetle girl standing next to her on the platform. “I wish I could do the big zip wire but I’m too little.”

The girl gestured at the top of the tower ahead of them. Two stories above where they had started three people were standing on a deck. Claire watched them step off and slide gracefully away into the distance. That doesn’t look so bad. Oh, come on Claire, this is the only thing between you and a cup of tea. Swallowing down the sick taste in her mouth, Claire set her sight on the tower and stepped off the platform. She dropped before the rope took hold and sweat pricked at her forehead.

And then it was over.

“Well done Claire. So are you up for the triple-zip?” Claire stared at the earnest face in front of her and laughed so hard her ribs hurt.

“Sorry,” she said eventually, wiping water from her eyes. “Maybe one day. If you’d told me last week I’d be swinging around fifteen feet off the ground I would have said you were nuts.”

A whisper at the back of Claire’s mind said Climb the stairs. You know you want to. Get the ultimate shot for the blog. Make Josh proud. Claire looked at the corner where the steps led to the next floor. She took one step, then two. Then she shrugged out of the harness and headed back to terra firma.

***

Lincoln Longwools, Illness and Ikea: 2013 365 Challenge #37

Aaron posing for the camera

We are a house of ill. Son has a temperature of 38.8C (I think that’s around 102F), daughter screams every time we go near her with her medicine and I’m coughing like a seal every thirty seconds.

The only option today was to divide and conquer. That’s what we call it when we take a child each. One is so much easier than two because you only have to follow one rambling non-sequitur laden conversation instead of two. So husband took daughter to Ikea (lucky them!) and I took my son to Sacrewell Farm.

Running for the muddy puddle

Followers of this Blog will know I love our local Farm. I call the feeling I get when I’m there Farm Calm. Today was no different. Despite a hacking cough, an icy wind, and a tired and poorly boy we managed a lovely two hours under blue skies. Aaron was even brave enough to feed Humby Keith – a Lincoln Longwool Ram with a very loud baa.

It was just as well we went early as it has been snowing/sleeting/hailing/raining all afternoon.

A happy boy at the Farm

Husband came back from his road trip with the usual Ikea extras – a new ball for the dog (she loves the soft footballs they sell but does tend to chew them up), cutlery, some gadget for the wardrobe and chocolate. He did at least also come back with the expedit unit he went for!

A more surprising thing he came back with was a thought for something to do with Claire.

“She should take part in Race for Life”.

Humby Keith with the loud baaaaaa

Great idea. It fits into her personal growth nicely so will definitely plot that in for May or whenever it happens wherever she is at that point! That’s if I’m still writing the story by then.

The daily blog is definitely taking its toll. I am trying to remember we are a house full of illness and flux, with husband’s lack of job sending ripples across everything else. It feels like me spending 2-3 hours a day on the laptop is the root cause of the kids’ tantrums and anxiety but it’s probably as much to do with none of us knowing where we are on any given day. Hopefully things like my son’s terrible Separation Anxiety (I can’t leave the room at the moment without him screaming) and daughter’s feelings of being unloved will improve when we can put some structure back in their lives.

I hope it happens soon for all our sakes, especially Claire’s!

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Claire looked at the flashing phone, trying to decide whether to ignore it. She and Josh had left for Ninebanks, the next hostel on Claire’s list, early that morning and the journey had been swift and painful. Since their brief conversation about photos the night before Josh had done little more than utter monosyllabic sounds like a sullen teenager. They had booked another twin room and Josh hadn’t made a single suggestive comment about the double bed that formed the bottom of the bunk. When he pulled on his boots and muttered something about going for a walk Claire waved him off with all the relief of a mother on the first day of term.

The phone continued to flash silently, dragging her eye from the accusing stare of the iPad. She reached over to check who was calling and saw only the word International. Her heart plummeted. The only person she knew that went overseas was Michael. Well he can just sod off. Stalker. She reached to hit reject but made a sudden decision to connect the call. If I don’t face him sooner or later I’m going to need a restraining order.

“Hello?”

“Claire?” Harsh tones boomed down the phone and into her brain. She ignored the surge of disappointment that it wasn’t Michael and took a moment to place the owner of the angry voice. She hadn’t heard it for a while.

“Robert? Long-time no speak, brother mine. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“This is not a social call.”

Claire tried not to laugh. Her brother sounded like a posh TV detective come to arrest the pretty protagonist. “Then why are you calling? You never call, is your Skype broken?”

“I did not want to risk Francesca overhearing my conversation. It is not for sensitive ears.”

Has he taken to perusing Gothic novels? I thought I was the one reading bad literature to pass the time.

Suppressing a sigh Claire settled back as best she could in the uncomfortable chair and gazed at the flickering of the wood-burner. When it became clear Robert was not going to add any more she inhaled through her nose and asked the obvious question.

“What isn’t for sensitive ears, Robert? And since when was Francesca sensitive? Judging by some of the stories she told on that hen do you made me go on she could give Frankie Boyle a run for his money.”

“I have no idea who Frankie Boy is…”

“…Boyle.”

“And I don’t appreciate being interrupted, thank you.”

“Robert you’re my brother, not my father.” Claire fought against the teenager she could feel rising within and lost. “Just spit out whatever stupid reason you have for calling and get out of my head, I’m trying to work.”

“Ha! Work. Is that what you’re calling it? Debauching with strangers, singing and dancing drunk in a bar, hanging upside-down from trees flashing your flesh for the world to see. It is not what I would call work. Nor is it the behaviour I expect from a member of my family. I have a position to uphold and you posting half-naked pictures of yourself across the Web – on LinkedIn! – is the outside of enough.”

Claire hit mute on the phone halfway through her brother’s rant so she could laugh without restraint. Tears streamed down her face. She was hiccupping with mirth when he finished and she was forced to turn the sound back on. In her mind she saw the picture that had got her brother so upset. The one Josh had taken of her the day before on their double hike of Hadrian’s Wall. After Josh had climbed the wall and posed for the camera she had found herself needing to go one better. School-girl gymnastics came to her aid and she’d managed to shimmy up the sycamore tree and hang from one of the branches like it was an A-Symmetric bar. Her coat had obeyed the laws of gravity and she recalled a few inches of frozen flesh creeping out into the chill winter’s day.

Eventually Claire stopped snorting tears and managed to compose herself enough to respond to her brother. She could imagine his increasing wrath at her laughter but that only whipped the flames hotter.

“Is that why you called? To tell me off like a first year caught skiving class? I had a hard enough time following in your prim and prudish footsteps at school Robert. You are not going to rule my life from Geneva. If my blog offends you don’t read it. Who, besides you, is going to know we are related? My name isn’t even on the blog.”

“Thank goodness for small mercies. What the hell does Sally’s Cat mean as an author’s name anyway? Mother tells me this is your job now and that you’ve left AJC. Sounds like a suicidal career move to me.”

“I’m amazed Mum got even that much right for all she listened while I was there. I haven’t left AJC, they’re still paying me my normal salary. Not that it’s any business of yours. I am working on an assignment to promote healthy living on behalf of the YHA and Coca Cola. If I’m managing to have a bit of fun while I do it it’s more than you’ve ever managed in your entire Head Boy career.”

She heard the rush of air as her brother sucked his breath in through his teeth. Her mouth spread wide in an unholy grin. She loved getting under Robert’s skin. It was so easy yet so very satisfying. She waited for him to speak, picturing his face contorting as he tried to respond without swearing.

“If you have nothing else to add Robert I’ll say goodbye. My blog isn’t going to write itself. I haven’t decided yet whether I’m going to go to Gaol or down a Lead Mine to explore the locality. I’ll be sure to keep my clothes on either way. It is winter here after all.”

Robert muttered a barely-civil farewell and hung up the phone.

Well if I’ve managed to irritate Robert I must be doing something right.

Claire closed down her blank blog page and brought up “Things to do in Ninebanks”. Mentally she reworded it “Things to annoy your eldest sibling”.

That shouldn’t be hard.

***

Sacrewell Farm

Health, happiness and commentator’s curse: 2013 Challenge #36

The Twice Brewed Inn, Twice Brewed by Ian S

Feeling pretty terrible as a Mummy today. I have spent much of the last few days falling out with my daughter because she hasn’t been listening properly, hasn’t responded to a question repeated several times or has asked me something I’ve told her many times already.

It turns out that she has (hopefully temporarily) lost the hearing in one ear. I want to take back the crossness and tears and wrap her in cuddles.

It terrifies me when things happen to the children because it feels like, in life, when I’m happy bad things happen. I generally try not to be too happy with my lot in case it’s all taken away. Things like when I had a car accident, found out my dad had cancer, discovered my dad had died in hospital, these things all came immediately after a period of intense happiness. Like Commentator’s Curse. You know the minute a commentator says “this batsman is on fire, he can’t hit a thing wrong,” that he’s going to be out next ball.

Hadrian’s Wall – Sycamore Gap – photo by Xavier de Jauréguiberry on Flickr

It’s a silly superstition but one that feels real from repeated experience I know bad things happen and it’s how you cope that matters. But I can’t help but feel that if I hedge my bets rather than over-counting my blessings I can somehow prevent disaster.

My husband is taking my daughter to the doctor this morning. I am waiting for them to tell me the results and I can feel the panic rise. Being unable to communicate with my children is one of my greatest fears. I have so much admiration for parents of children with autism or other things that hinder connection.

P.S. She has an inner ear infection. Nasty but treatable. Reading back through the post I wrote this morning I was tempted to delete it as it reeks of over-reaction. But it was genuine and real at the time and I think it’s interesting to read it with hindsight and see how things viewed through guilt and sleep-deprivation can seem HUGE.

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The trill of the phone rang loud in the silent lounge. Claire and Josh had the place to themselves, having got back from their walk early in the afternoon. Claire twisted in her seat so she could retrieve her phone from her back pocket, only then becoming aware of the numb patch where it had been digging into her skin.

Claire, sorry to text again. I’m not stalking you I promise. It’s just I rang AJC and they said you’d left. I hope that’s not because of what happened at New Year. I’m sorry if it was. Forgive me. Michael.

Left? How dare they? What have they been saying to my clients? Claire felt the blood heating in her veins, surging up her neck to her face. She read the message again. And why did Michael ring work anyway? I don’t care what he says, it sounds like stalking to me.

Her mind twisted like tights in a tumble dryer. She wasn’t aware that her emotions were anything other than internal until she heard a snigger from Josh. She looked and saw him watching her with a questioning look on his face.

“I’ve never heard someone actually grind their teeth before. I always thought it was one of those things you read in bad novels when the author can’t think of a way to describe irritation better.”

Claire unclenched her jaw and forced her muscles to relax. “Just some seeds from my sandwich stuck in my molars that’s all.” She watched Josh with narrow eyes, waiting to see if he would contradict her. The sandwiches had been on white. He merely gave a wink and went back to reading a tattered paperback, holding it in one hand with pages turned over.

Claire put the phone down and pulled her iPad onto her lap. She opened her blog site dashboard with a sigh. The blank page of the “New Post” dragged at her like a cliff edge. A mind that could generate award-winning one-liners for Press Ads was bereft of words when faced with the challenge of penning something entertaining about her day. The best part had been arriving back at the hostel and wrapping her hands around a mug of tea. She’d even managed to ignore the chips and cracks and the teak-colour of the brew. Eight hours trudging in a ‘bracing’ wind had erased her fastidiousness for the moment.

Damn you Josh for convincing me to do a second circular walk when we finished the first one in five hours. Yes the Sycamore Tree was pretty but I could have lived without it. Although Cuddy’s Crags and East and West Crindledykes are going to make great Tags.

She looked at the two maps of her walks with notes scribbled on, barely legible because of cold, numb fingers. It was vaguely possible she could write something about the two circular routes that hadn’t been said before but it was still lacking in heart, whatever that was.

At least I have the photos of Josh to upload. He’s fairly easy on the eye: that should win some likes. She flicked through the images on her phone, trying to find the ones with most impact. It was a bit different to working with a lightbox in an editing studio. She chose a couple that made her heart beat a bit faster and set them to upload to the Cloud. I should probably check with him before I publish them to the world. He might be in hiding or something although if he’s writing a blog back home they must have some idea where he is.

“Hey Josh, can I put a picture of you on the blog? That one of you up to your knees in the mud would be cool.”

There was silence from the sofa in the corner and Claire wondered if Josh had fallen asleep. The book hadn’t looked particularly thrilling. She glanced over and was surprised to meet troubled eyes peering around the pages of the upheld book. The expression on Josh’s normally carefree face jolted deep in Claire’s stomach and she was conscious of a strong urge to offer comfort.

“Er, sure, if you want. Or you could use the one of me on top of the wall.”

The one where the sun is on you and your face isn’t visible? “Maybe, although I’m sure you’re not meant to climb the wall so that’s probably not a great idea. Don’t worry, I’ll find something. I think you took one of me.”

She turned her head back to the laptop as if concentrating on her post. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Josh. His face remained focussed in her direction for a few moments before he sank back into his previous pose. Only the constant movement of his twisting feet gave anything away.

Gosh February – 2013 365 Challenge #32

First pass at a cover for the YHA Novel (image is a bit small as I only had a couple of istockphoto credits left)

First pass at a cover for the Novel

I can’t believe it’s February already! Where did January go? Unfortunately I’ve entered the new month with a stinking cold. It’s been threatening all day but finally wrapped itself around me as we went to fetch the kids from nursery.

I have been making cards and mini paintings for the gallery today as well as trying to pull together January’s Claire instalments into an ebook. Unfortunately it looks like I won’t be able to offer the ebook for free but I’m still investigating how it all works for kindle: despite reading a dozen blogs on the subject I’m still a complete newbie when it comes to e-publishing!

I have found a cheap image for my front cover (unfortunately the image is tiny as I only had 2 istockphoto credits left so I’ve had to rescale it for the Kindle cover. Definitely work in progress) and I’m pummeling my brain for a better title than “two-hundred steps home” but nothing has come forward yet – suggestions gratefully received!

New mini paintings for the Valentines Display at Art in the Heart

I had hoped to finish the ebook ready for anyone who wants to catch up from the beginning but doesn’t want to wade through 31 posts but it seems my word document has lost some formatting so I need to re-read it from the beginning. That’s going to be frustrating because I don’t intend to edit the posts at this stage (aside from any missed typos). I want to keep it true to the blog for now. I’m going to have to sit on my hands as I’ve already found one continuity error (on Day 7 I write about the street light shining through Claire’s window but later I say she has blackout blinds). There are bound to be others.

Anyway I need to fight this cold off for half an hour more and write something about Claire’s next experience…

P.S. My husband took the kids for two hours this morning so I’ve got some sort of version of the January e-book going through Kindle review process although I haven’t yet written anything for the post. I have thirty minutes to my 10am deadline and husband and kids are at the end of their tolerance so might be another short one today!)

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“Ow!”

“Stop being such a girl.”

“I am a girl and that hurts!”

Josh looked up at Claire and shook his head. “What possessed you to take your hands off the handlebars anyway? You said you hadn’t been on a bike since you were a nipper.”

Claire lowered her head so her hair fell over her face. “I felt like I was flying. I wanted to sit up and feel the wind in my face.”

“Dingbat! Only the pros take their hands off on a cross-country track.” Josh dabbed at the blood pouring from beneath Claire’s ripped trousers.

“Oh look at my GAP jeans, they’re ruined.” Claire’s wail at the state of her clothes was louder than the cry of pain as Josh picked gravel from the wound.

“Nothing a patch won’t fix.”

“I am not putting a patch on my jeans. I might be reduced to sleeping in a bunk-bed and driving a rust bucket but I am not walking round with patches on my clothes.”

“Find yourself a Thrifty then. What do you call them here? A charity shop. That’s where most of my stuff comes from.”

Claire shuddered at the thought of wearing something already used and abused by someone else. It might be time to dip into my wages again. I couldn’t do this backpacking thing for real. She vowed to find a Mountain Warehouse or whatever at the next decent-sized town she came to. I’ll be buggered if I’m going to wreck my good clothes for Carl’s sake.

Josh applied a plaster to Claire’s knee and wiped her other scrapes and grazes with an antiseptic wipe.

“You’re pretty handy at that first aid thing,” Claire said. “I can’t stomach the sight of blood, even my own.”

“I used to work in a hospital back in Oz.” Josh’s voice was closed, preventing Claire from asking the questions that pushed at her lips.

“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day, Planning Lady?” He looked up brightly at her and then pushed himself to his feet to sit down next to her at the table.

“Move on to the next hostel. If I leave now I’ll be there before reception closes.”

“What is the next hostel?” Josh picked at some dirt under his nails.

“Well, the nearest one is a bunkhouse and I’ve decided to leave those until the summer – I have to come back for Wooler anyway – so I’m going on to Once Brewed.”

“Once Brewed? That’s the name of a hostel? Awesome! Count me in!” He turned to face her, his face split in a grin.

Claire took in his expectant expression, like a dog sitting at the fridge. Oh crap he wants to come with me. What do I do? Claire had some notion that backpackers spent a lot of time hitchhiking but she hadn’t equated that with taking anyone along with her. Can I bear to travel with someone? What if I can’t get rid of him?

While her brain churned Josh sat staring, his eyes boring into the side of her face. Oh what the hell. I can always leave while he’s asleep. It might be nice to travel with someone who knows how this hostelling thing works. It’s not like we’ll have to share a room. Most of the dorms have been single-sex so far.

She turned to face Josh, grinning at the expression on his face. “Sure, why not? Can you be ready to leave in an hour?”

“You bet!” Josh jumped up and went to leave the room. He stopped at the door, walked briskly back to Claire and gave her a quick, odoriferous, peck on the cheek. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been stuck in this damn place waiting for a lift out. You’re an angel!” He turned to leave again and Claire called out to him to wait. He turned anxiously.

“Josh? Take a shower.”

***

From Blog to Kindle eBook – Free Gift (buildabetterblog.com)
Gosh, You’re Amazing (xmelissalittle.wordpress.com)

Valentines Day Cards and 2013 365 Challenge #31

Valentine Day Card Production

I can’t believe it is the last day of January and I have survived my first month of the 2013 challenge. I still have doubts about my ability to sustain it for a whole year but on 3rd January I’d have taken a month and been glad.

I have been making Valentines Day cards again today. It’s quite ironic considering my husband and I get the same card out of the cupboard every year with brownie points going to the person who remembers where the box is from the year before.

Actually, I’m about to go out to dinner – my bi-annual catch up with the girls I used to work with, who still work for a living. The rest of today’s post will be written in the morning. I just wanted to schedule something (even without the Claire’s bit) just in case I don’t manage to write any more tomorrow. Not because I’ll be hungover – I’m driving – but because I’m full of cold and going out to dinner might just finish me off!

P.S. I very much enjoyed my dinner with my old work colleagues, although I did feel like an Alien recently landed and trying to masquerade as a human being. From the moment I arrived the girls (all in their 30s and 40s) began discussing their latest fashion purchases, the films they had seen, books they had read, TV shows they follow and I didn’t understand a single world. They might have been talking Japanese. Usually there is some common ground when they talk about work or the kids but last night it was mostly films and books. I do read and I do watch movies but the books I read tend to be research (so Young Adult novels or contemporary woman’s fiction, not much literary stuff these days) and the TV I watch is all chosen by my husband. It tends to comprise Auction Hunters and Got To Dance with a bit of SG-1 or NCIS or Psych thrown in.

And we love it.

The characters are as familiar as friends, especially the judges on Got To Dance. It’s comfortable and fun, like going down the pub and listening to mates chat. I don’t have the emotional strength to watch harrowing movies or read heavy-going books. I’d rather do Disney Princesses and endless re-runs of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. And don’t get me started on the cooking! They discussed meals and menus I had no clue about. We have Cottage Pie and Spag Bol and curry (from a jar). So I sat silently, enjoyed the conversation, chipped in where I could, and longed to get home to my husband, kids and blogs. Sad. When I did get home hubbie had had a shocker of a night with the kids so I felt a bit guilty. They’re not used to Mummy going out and they missed me. All in all probably good that it’ll be six months before we meet again!

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“Av-a-go-yer-mug, Claire!”

Claire tried to respond to the voice, her breath coming in sharp pants. The feeling was immense, overwhelming her. Her whole body quivered in anticipation. Just a bit more effort she thought between breaths.

“Wow! Ripper!” Josh’s voice was exuberant. Claire tried to share his joy but she felt depleted, her body soft and malleable, not to be trusted.

She pulled her bike alongside Josh’s and looked out over the view. She had to admit it was worth the exertion, although her breath still came in ragged gasps and a stitch tore at the left-hand side of her ribcage.

“You are unfit lady, look at you. When did you last do some true blue exercise?”

Claire bristled at the teasing tone. “I’ll have you know I go to the gym three times a week for spinning classes.”

“Pah, spinning. Stupid. Wasted sweat. Might as well go to a tart instead of taking time to seduce a beautiful lady.” His gaze rested marginally too long on Claire, bringing more redness to her already flushed cheeks. “I mean proper outdoors stuff, with real air in your lungs and a view worth the effort.”

“And real rain dripping down your neck, real blisters on your feet and a real two-hour bike ride back home?” Claire’s elated tone belied her negative words. She had to admit she felt amazing. She’d heard people talk about the feeling but had always thought that was just their way of conning you to join them in their misery, in the same way she liked to meet up with people on a Sunday morning over a Bloody Mary to share the agony of a hangover.

“Come on, when was the last time you were outdoors for more than the time it takes to walk to the car?”

“I walked the Pennine Way two days ago, thank you very much.”

Josh turned to face her, eyebrows raised. “Really, well I beg your pardon.” He mimicked her middle-England accent and Claire had to smile. “Alright, I was dragged out by some arse trying to score points with my boss.”

The eyebrows rose higher, almost vanishing in Josh’s sandy unkempt hair. His expression invited confidence so, while her breath slowly returned to normal and the pain in her side faded, Claire filled him in on the last few weeks of her life, omitting anything to do with Michael.

“He sounds like a proper dingbat that boss of yours. Why don’t you quit? It’s just a job and a shonky one at that. Get on a plane, go see the world before you get tied down with a husband and ankle-biters.”

Claire shuddered and bent quickly to massage her aching calf muscles. Josh’s eyes caught the movement and he chuckled. “Don’t fancy the whole wife-and-mother bit? I don’t blame you. Won’t catch me shackled for life. As long as the surf’s up somewhere and I can hitch a ride I’ll be there.”

It was Claire’s turn to be intrigued. “Does it ever get lonely?”

“Nah, why would it? There’s always blokes to chat to and chicks to keep you warm.” He winked.

“What do you do for money?” Claire realised it was a personal question and quickly added, “you don’t have to answer that. Sorry that was rude of me.”

“No worries, it’s fair enough. I work when I have to. Bar work mostly or fruit picking. Enough to get by. I only kip in hostels in the winter; mostly I pitch my tent somewhere for free. Or…” He stopped but something in his face gave the rest of the answer so Claire finished for him.

“Or find some warm sheila to give you a bed?” She flushed, thinking about their near-kiss the night before. Josh hadn’t tried anything since but then they’d been on this crazy bike ride since first light. When Claire had admitted, on the trip back to the hostel in the dark, that she’d not been on a bike since she was a teenager Josh had dared her to accompany him. Taking in the weak sun as it broke through the rain clouds to glint off the water, Claire was glad she had.

“At least the snow’s all gone.” Claire looked around, amazed at how quickly the snow had washed away in the overnight rain. “What’s your plan now?”

“Don’t have one.” Josh turned the bike ready to return to the hostel. “Don’t do plans.”

Claire tried to imagine a life without plans. It didn’t seem possible. Like trying to drive a road in the pitch black. Surely you have to see at least some of the way ahead?

“Well I do have a plan I’m afraid and I need to get going. The sooner I get round all two-hundred sodding hostels the sooner I can get my life back.”

“Is that all it is? Hard yakka? It’ll be a drag-arse year for you if that’s your view.”

“What other view is there? This is my job; it doesn’t have to be fun.”

“But it could be.” Josh pulled up alongside Claire and they mounted their bikes, freewheeling down the hill they had just climbed. Josh took his hands off the brakes and let the bike pick up speed.

His words floated over his shoulder as he sped off. “Just because you have to do something doesn’t mean it can’t be fun. Let go and live a little!”

Claire watched his disappearing form and wondered if she could take her hands off the brakes too. What if she fell and hurt or humiliated herself? What if Josh laughed?

So what?

The traitorous part of her brain that often took over materialised with a sly smile. It prised her hands off the brakes one finger at a time. Until Claire, too, was flying.

***

Burnt Mash: 2013 365 Challenge Day #30

Amber’s ‘paint your own tea set’ gift. Spot the ones controlling mummy did

At 11.57 a.m. today my daughter was exactly 4 years old. She was also sick of birthday celebrations and even sobbed “I don’t know if I’m actually four or not” because we’ve been celebrating her 4th birthday since Sunday.

I have learned an important lesson about managing the amount of birthday stuff that happens. Although what the alternative is when a birthday falls on a week day I don’t know. I do have friends who manipulate when their child’s birthday is to suit them but, even though I’m not at all adverse to lying to my children, that is one lie I feel I would struggle to maintain.

(I heard a great story about a mother coming a cropper when her child started school and the teachers gave her a card and sang happy birthday when she didn’t know it was on that day.)

Indoor scootering… they want to go outside but I’m scared!

Anyway, the birthday is done. We spent the afternoon painting her ‘paint your own tea set’ and scootering around the kitchen. The last present has been given (and it was a great one – a doll that actually swims in water – thank you grandma and grandpa!). Tomorrow begins a new day.

As I write this post I am inhaling the scent of caramelised potatoes and carrots. Not because of some fancy dinner but because I burned the mash while my parents were here. I’m now trying to decide what to cook as well as what on earth I’m going to have happen to Claire this evening as I haven’t done any research today. I think it’s going to have to be something with her new Aussie friend.

Indoor scootering – a great way to burn off excess energy…

I asked my husband last week what should happen to Claire next and he said “surely someone will hit on her?”

He said it with such confidence but I don’t remember anyone ever chatting me up when I travelled around New Zealand. Mind you I was suffering from panic attacks after coming off antidepressants so I probably didn’t give off a come-chat-me-up sort of vibe. I did have an incident with a hitchhiker but I’m saving that story for later on in Claire’s adventures!

My other task for this week is to pull together an electronic version of all the posts for January so I can have it available for people who want to catch up on the story. I’m struggling for a title, if anyone has any ideas. I’m toying with “Two-hundred steps home” because of the 200 YHA hostels and Claire’s journey but it’s a bit vague. I’ve never been any good at coming up with good titles. Any ideas gratefully received!

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“Look, there’s Orion, although it’s upside-down of course. His sword’s pointing skyward, if you know what I mean?” Josh chuckled, the sound spilling out from somewhere deep in his throat. Claire didn’t understand his words but the swell of his laughter washed over her, resonating deep in her midriff.

They stood shoulder to shoulder gazing up at the glitter-strewn sky. It reminded Claire of something Sky might produce at school that would turn up in the post to Aunty Claire, dropping blue sparkles all over her cream carpet.

Standing in the freezing night beneath the myriad of stars Claire realised she had never truly seen the night sky before. In Manchester it was barely possible to distinguish the Big Dipper above the persistent glow of streetlights. Here, deep in the Kielder Forest, it was hard to see the dark of Space in between the sparkling specks of light. She felt like a child in awe of the sight above her.

Claire became aware of the gushing words filling her head and gave a mental shake. All this sky is making me poetic. Time for another G&T I think.

She turned to Josh, to tell him that it was time to go. His silence spread to fill the space around him as he gazed, rapt, at the display above his head. Claire shrugged and turned to stand alongside him again. There’s no real hurry I guess. He’s having fun and it took some effort to get here.

She thought about the skidding, spinning Skoda ride up the snow-strewn path and sighed. Halfway up the track she had stopped the car and made Josh drive, as much to stop his constant stream of advice as to soothe her tattered nerves. When they arrived at the Observatory it was to find that Public Viewing was cancelled due to the weather. Thankfully they were still able to access the decked areas and see the stars with the naked eye.

The word naked caught in Claire’s mind and she became aware, as if for the first time, of the man standing slightly too near her for comfort. She could feel Josh’s coat brushing hers, his woollen clad hands near hers on the railings. Her nostrils filled with the scent of cheap deodorant and cigarette smoke. Not smells that would normally have the kind of effect on her knees that they seemed to be having at that moment.

Josh was pointing out the constellations he knew, explaining which ones could be seen in Australia, upside-down of course, and which ones couldn’t.

“Did you know you can’t see the Pole Star if you’re as much as one degree over the equator? Amazing. We don’t have anything that fixed in the Southern Hemisphere although our stars are brighter, especially the Southern Cross.”

Claire turned so she could hear what Josh was saying without taking down her hood. It was freezing up on the observation deck. Josh glanced round at the movement and his words fell from his mouth and lay dead in the snow. He leaned forwards and raised a mitten-clad hand to Claire’s face.

Claire’s heart beat loudly but not as loud as the clamour filling her brain. What the hell? Oh God is he going to kiss me? I barely know him and he reeks of fags and oh crap it’s just too corny to snog the first Australian guy I meet. Isn’t that what all backpackers do?

Josh’s face came nearer, his breath steaming in the cold air, brushing warmth across Claire’s frozen face. Her eyes widened as the monologue shrilled loudly in her head. She was immobile with indecision. It would be awkward to turn away and avoid the kiss, but not as awkward as what might happen after they came together. The thoughts raced on, wondering if they would sleep together, wondering how that happened exactly if you were both staying in dorm rooms.

They don’t shag in dorms do they? With people trying to sleep all around them? Surely they get a double room? She wondered who ‘they’ were. Some alien species of traveling people? That’s me now, I’m a backpacker too.

Josh’s lips were almost at hers and still no plan of action had presented itself in her jumbled mind. His eyes were closed, a fact Claire found slightly disappointing. She couldn’t remember her first kiss with Michael – they were both too drunk – but she had some idea that first kisses were meant to happen with each of the people gazing longingly at the other until the moment when lips touched and fire exploded.

She felt the first brush of Josh’s lips against hers. They were rough and chapped, and his unshaven cheeks scratched her cold skin. His eyes flew open when she didn’t respond and he looked into her face then, his expression rueful but unabashed.

“Ah well, can’t blame a bloke for trying. You are very hot. Taken?”

He pulled away.

Claire remained still for a moment more as she processed events, unsure why she hadn’t responded. She had wanted to. Every part of her body was throbbing with the need to lose herself in someone’s kisses. Her traitorous brain, not for the first time, seemed to have taken over at the crucial moment.

“Um, no, not taken. Er, you just caught me by surprise that’s all.”

Josh grinned. “Ah, so I I’m free to try again at a better moment? Sweet.”

He turned back to face the stars as if they’d been discussing where to meet for lunch. Claire swallowed, her throat dry, and tried to detangle her jumbled thoughts.

Great, that’s all I need, another bloody complication. Oh Michael, where are you?

She turned and faced the night, seeking answers amongst the stars.

***

Post Party Blues and 2013 365 Challenge Day #28

The Jungle Party was a success

Everyone is sad and jaded this morning. Husband has a second-interview tomorrow and no energy to spend on learning his competency-based answers. I’m behind on my post and can’t keep my eyes open, and I left two crying children at nursery which always breaks my heart a little bit.

I phoned ten minutes later to check they’re okay and Amber had been let into her brother’s room to give him a cuddle. I love that they look out for each other and are a comfort to each other. I must work hard today to make up for their sadness. I do wonder how my daughter will cope with going to school every day in September. She does so love being at home, particularly since Daddy has been home too. Let’s hope his interview goes well.

Party Girl in the Zebra mask she made as part of the craft activity

The party was amazing but we were all exhausted afterwards. The only problem with having it in the morning was surviving until bedtime. And my daughter’s birthday isn’t actually until tomorrow so there are still visits from grandparents and more gifts to come. It’s overwhelming for children even though we’ve tried to keep it as calm as possible. It’s tough on the little one, too, as he doesn’t really understand the gifts aren’t for him. Especially so close to Christmas when they both got presents. So I’m going to get him a little something today so he has a toy to play with tomorrow.

The tightrope walk of parenthood!

My daughter told me this morning (after I lost my temper at their constant whining about not wanting to go to nursery) that she wanted a different Mummy rather than me. Husband was horrified:

“Mummy gave you an amazing party this weekend, aren’t you grateful for that?”

I just shrugged and said, “But that’s my job.”

The Jungle Party Room

If she doesn’t hate me from time to time I’m probably not doing my job properly. I love her, I want her to be happy but I also want her to grow up knowing the balance between times when she is the centre of everything and times when the world gets on and she must fit in.

I want to be her friend but first and foremost I’m her Mum. The two are not always the same thing.

Anyway, I’m late with the post because I had no words by bedtime last night. I have twelve minutes to post pictures and write something about Claire. Might be a bit of 200-word flash fiction today. I’ve been reading some great Flash Fiction over on the Apprentice, Never Master blog and it’s a skill I don’t currently have.

And then I have to make a dozen Valentines Day cards for the Gallery, buy Amber a gift from her brother, wrap all the presents and make dinner for Grandad’s arrival this evening. I might not earn a wage but it still feels like work to me!

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Julia? It’s Claire. Don’t bother: I know Carl’s in an end-of-the-world summit in Timbuktu and can’t be reached. I don’t want to talk to him, I just want to pass on a message, seeing as that’s his preferred method of communication. You tell him it will take more than his sister’s friend’s stupid husband to make me quit my assignment. If Carl wants to fire me he’ll have to do it in person. Until he grows a pair and tells me to my face that I’m no longer required I will do the job he is paying me to do. That’s all.”

Claire hung up the phone and grinned. An unfamiliar surge of liberation flooded through her, starting in her chest and spreading out down to her fingertips. She pictured Julia’s face as she listened to the diatribe pouring down the phone, imagining the perfect cherry-red O in the middle of her flawlessly made-up face. Glancing in the mirror on the back of her phone Claire realised with a start that she hadn’t put make up on for two days. And she didn’t care. Who is there to impress out her in the sticks? She stroked her face. It felt clean and smooth, like it could breathe. I don’t remember the last time I went out in public without slap.

The sun shone on the while walls of the Byrness hostel as Claire loaded her things into the car ready to drive to Kielder. She looked at the building with more fondness than she could have imagined two days earlier. Settling into the icy seat Claire pulled on her gloves before touching the freezing steering wheel. She tugged the choke, gave the car a pat of encouragement and checked the Sat Nav instructions. Her heart felt buoyant as she poked around for a gear and drove away.

***

Jungle-Party-Eve and 2013 Challenge #27

This was me around four years ago, before this parenting adventure really began

It’s the night before the Jungle Party and right now I’m hoping my little girl feels better, as she’s been pale and poorly all day. Are you sick of hearing about the party? I’m a bit tired of it if I’m honest. It’s definitely been worth it though. My daughter is thrilled with her helium zebras and the room is going to look amazing – pictures tomorrow when everything is up and in place.

Understandably there wasn’t any research today. I have done about eight hours’ cleaning just to get my house ready for strangers. I’m not someone who does cleaning on a regular basis. I prefer to do a major blitz every few weeks, usually when we have visitors coming. Sometimes we invite the father-in-law over just to force us to clean and de-clutter.

The clock says it’s about an hour to bedtime. We still have wall hangings to put up, the kitchen work-tops and floor to clean and I should probably be making egg mayonnaise too but I think that will have to wait until the morning.

I had a moment of terror today when a friend of mine turned up with her daughter just after eleven. Poor lady had the wrong day for the party. She’d done her daughter’s hair and everything. My heart bled for her, after I’d recovered from the horror that it was me who had the wrong day. It wouldn’t be the first time. I make a habit of getting the wrong time or day for everything from doctors appointments to kids parties. My phone is my friend, and if it’s not in there as a meeting chances are I won’t make it.

At the end of the month I’ll be pulling all of January’s instalments into an e-book or pdf for anyone who wants to catch up without reading all the daily family chit-chat. I just have to decide whether to charge for it or have it on the site as a free download. I’m not out to make money (not off this book anyway!) but it might be interesting to see if anyone actually buys it. Anyway, on to Claire’s exploits.

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Claire tried to roll over to see what time it was and let out a wail of pain. She felt as if she had been slam-dunked by a twenty-stone bruiser. Time check could wait: still was best. If she stayed completely motionless only certain parts of her hurt. Her feet, covered in blisters that had only revealed themselves when she had peeled off her snow boots. Her cheeks, wind-chapped and raw. Everything else was a dull ache until she used any one of the hundreds of screaming muscles, when agony shot through her like a five-year-old trying out acupuncture.

The evening before replayed in Claire’s mind. There had been a sense of camaraderie when they got back to the hostel. The host prepared hot drinks, took their clothes away to dry them and then served up a delicious meal. The five of them sat together discussing the day, with Fi showing photographs she had taken on her iPhone. Claire was amazed at her ability to use the camera in sub-zero temperatures but Fi explained, with a strange look in her eye, that she thought they might be important.

They’d all gone to bed early. The two couples were leaving in the morning to return to their day jobs and there wasn’t a television for them to veg in front of anyway. Claire thought she’d never get to sleep before nine o’clock and surprised herself by sinking into the bed and closing her eyes with no palpable effort. It felt good, as if her body had been doing what it was built to do. Maybe this hiking lark isn’t so bad after all.

That was then. Now, as the sun came up, Claire happily cursed every deity that deigned to come within earshot. She had never experienced so much pain, not even after a brutal spinning session or an all-night-rave.

There was a scrape at the door and Claire turned her head to face it. She couldn’t find the energy to speak, never mind get up and answer it. Go away, she thought silently. I have no desire to see any of my torturers this morning. Go back to your happy, healthy, over-fulfilled lives and leave me to die in peace.

The scratching sound came again. Cursing her visitor’s inability to understand the silent command, Claire opened her paper-dry lips and croaked, “yes?”

“It’s Fi, can I come in?”

Fi. What the hell does she want? Come to gloat? Curiosity overcame ire and Claire called out, “Come in.” She flushed as she heard the weakness of her voice.

Fi’s head peered round the door and her brows contracted in concern at the sight of Claire in bed. “I’m so sorry, did I wake you? We’re off early I’m afraid.”

“No. I was awake. Just unable to move.”

Fi moved closer to the bed, her frown deepening. “Does it hurt? A hot shower and a gentle walk will help loosen off the muscles.” She smiled in sympathy. “I remember my first major hike. Jason dragged me over Scarfell in new boots. I had blisters on my blisters and my body felt like it had been filled with molten lead.”

“Yes.” Claire tried to nod and thought better of it. “That sounds about right.”

There was silence as the two girls watched each other warily. “I wanted to get your email address, so I could send you photos from yesterday.” Fi hesitated. “…for your blog.”

Claire sat up, then cried out as a dozen muscles protested the sudden movement. Her mouth opened but no words came. Her shock must have been obvious though because Fi blushed.

“I’m sorry. We should have come clean yesterday. I’m friends with your boss Carl’s sister on Facebook. When we put in our status update that we were staying in Byrness he said to look out for you. He asked us to goad you into hiking, as your blog was about healthy lifestyle but you weren’t leaving the hostels. I didn’t like it but Jason wanted to see if he could. You did really well especially if that was your first hike?”

The words all came out in a rush and, when she had finished, Fi stood and twisted her hands, staring out the window. Claire didn’t know where to start. She hadn’t heard from Carl once since her arrival in Berwick, despite calling several times and leaving messages with Julia. It made her skin itch to think of that snake discussing her with strangers. As for Jason dragging me on that infernal hike at Carl’s bidding. How dare he? Claire wanted to stalk out the room and find Jason so she could smack him in the face. Except it would hurt too much and Jason didn’t seem worth the extra pain.

“What will you do?”

Claire had forgotten Fi in her rage at Carl and Jason. Aside from being weak and silly and doing what her husband wanted, she hadn’t really done anything wrong. It was a good question. What should I do? Claire’s brain began to ache more than her thigh muscles as she tried to pick through her options.

“What would you do?” Claire looked up at Fi who was still standing by the bed. She thought about her situation, stuck in bed talking about her boss with a total stranger. She looked around at the sparse bedroom, the still-damp rucksack, the worried-looking lady, and began to laugh. It hurt her tummy muscles but she laughed anyway. It felt good. Fi looked shocked at first, as if Claire had snapped and had some sort of breakdown. Then she too began to giggle.

“I’d probably smack Jason in the face if he played a trick like that on me. Except I wouldn’t because I’m a wuss. I bet you could though. And that boss of yours. He sounds nothing like his sister, she’s a darling.”

Claire laughed harder and wiped at her streaming eyes. Eventually she had no more mirth left and she sank back into the pillows like a punctured balloon.

What should I do?

“Can you send me those pictures? If Carl wants outdoor pursuits, I’ll give him outdoors.”

Fi grinned and started tapping details into her phone. As she was leaving she turned back to face Claire.

“Piece of advice?”

“Of course, fire away.”

“Buy some hiking trousers.”

Claire grinned and nodded before sinking back into the protective hug of the bed.

***

Pin the Tail on the Zebra and 2013 365 Challenge #25

I’m rather proud of my Pin the Tail on the Zebra

Today my husband and I have been getting ready for the party. He has been decluttering (his area of expertise) while I spent three hours painting a zebra for Pin the Tail on the Zebra. We’ve still got palm trees to assemble and craft to prepare and the party date is looming. Today was the last child-free day between now and Sunday: I foresee busy nights ahead.

The kids and I shredded crêpe paper into hanging vines yesterday and chose a Monkey cake, zebras not being available. My daughter is having her Zebra/Jungle party despite my early misgivings.

Husband and I worry that we spoil the children by giving them exactly what they want. From the little things like choosing their breakfast and dinner, through the middle-sized choices of where to go everyday (zoo, farm, coffee shop tending to be the options) right to the big decisions of what colour scooter to get for Christmas.

Crepe paper vines and my Dad’s old zebra blanket (I knew we kept it for a reason)

We’re easy-going people, my husband and I, and like a quiet life. So it doesn’t matter to us if the kids are in charge. It might matter to them though. My daughter starts school in September and I’m worried she will struggle with being told what to do, where to go and how to dress five days out of seven.

Don’t get me wrong, we are parents. They go to bed (more or less) when they’re told, they wear (more or less) what we want them to and two or three days a week they go to nursery. That’s a given. On the plus side they are really good at choosing and negotiating. In terms of choice both children can pick a meal off a menu, select clothes from a full drawer or decide which cake they want without long deliberations or fuss.

I can’t. I’m useless at making decisions.

And their negotiating skills are legendary. The answer to “would you like a cookie?” is always, “two?” My youngest could count to two before he was 18 months old, particularly if it was two rice cakes or two breadsticks.

I have to keep reminding myself all these things add character and, in today’s world, a bit of stubbornness and knowing your own mind is a good thing. I’m just not looking forward to the day when the choices are between tattoos, piercings or which tiny skirt to wear (that goes for both of them: my son chose to wear blue nail-varnish and pink heels to nursery today. I did veto the dress.) In the meantime I’m just glad to have an excuse to paint.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Claire shuffled deeper into the corner of the brown leather sofa and tried to get comfortable. The book on her lap remained closed. Her iPad was in the tiny room she had hired for the night. There was no signal in the hostel so she had the perfect excuse not to update her blog or Facebook account.

Silence blanketed the deserted building. Claire had arrived just as the lady who ran the B&B with her husband left to take some hikers up to the Pennine Way.

“Who hikes in this weather?” Claire had asked and had received a withering glance in reply from one of the passengers.

“Excuse me!” Claire had responded, too quiet to be audible.

It turned out that plenty of people wanted to stomp around in the snow. Everyone staying at Byrness Hostel to be exact. The host lady had explained that they would be back for dinner so she wouldn’t be lonely for long.

Lonely? Ha. This is bliss. Claire looked around the empty room and stifled a sigh. Okay, more boring than blissful. She felt guilty even thinking the word boring. Her mother’s words to her and her siblings when they were growing up echoed in her head:

“Only stupid people get bored,” she would say. “You have the capacity to entertain yourselves, to read a book, play the piano, invent a song, game or story. Your genetic code is embedded with the facilities to not be bored. Use them.”

Claire looked down at the romance she’d bought at the second hand book store. It was so happy it made her miserable. Her brain seemed to be empty of ideas and there was no piano.

I guess I’m an embarrassment to my blood. Either that or I was adopted. Maybe that’s why mum hates me.

Claire looked round the room for inspiration and spied the Visitors Book.

Maybe I should read it, try and understand what draws people to this nomadic life.

The comments were mostly vague, complimenting the accommodation, the hosts, the food, the views and the hikes. She flicked the pages looking for something that might stand out. She had almost given up finding anything interesting when a lead weight dropped into her stomach as she saw handwriting she knew. Familiar sloping characters with curly fs looped gs. Writing she had last seen on a Christmas card inscribing the words Dear Claire, with all my love.

She looked at the date on the entry and tried to work out whether it was before they got together. Without really needing to, Claire checked the diary in her phone.

That was only a week or two before we met.

She swallowed, thinking she ought to get a glass of water. The central heating must be drying my throat out. Her heart beat loudly as she read Michael’s review. It was several lines long, written in small, cramped words. How thorough. So very Michael. She read through his views on the Pennine Way, the charming hosts and the wholesome food. His words were balanced and fair and Claire could hear them in Michael’s rich voice. The final line grabbed her guts and gave a twist. Debbie and I very much enjoyed our stay. The room was extremely comfortable and the company delightful.

A growling noise echoed loudly in the silent room, making Claire jump. She realised with a start that she was making the noise, deep in her throat. Debbie. His darling ex.

I wonder why he left her. Sweet, delightful Debbie.

Michael was recently separated from Debbie when Claire first met him. They had parted amicably, so Michael said, agreeing that they didn’t suit. I wonder if he went back to Debbie, when… She couldn’t finish the thought. Unwelcome images of the last time she saw Michael swamped her over-wrought emotions and dragged tears from her eyes.

Claire slapped the book shut and shoved it back on the shelf before clumping to the kettle to make tea. I wonder what room they slept in. She looked around the doors, her skin prickling. Did she love hiking and all things outdoors? Did she always make it to dinner engagements and remember to call when she promised? Did she want kids?

The thoughts clattered loudly in Claire’s quiet brain until she thought she might lose her sanity to the sound.

How do people bear all this damn silence?

***