“All retch and no vomit” – inspiring words and 2013 365 Challenge #40

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?

***

Modern schooling: all retch and no vomit? (edu.blogs.com)
It’s all wretch and no vomit (quieterelephant.wordpress.com)

A Righteous Reprimand & the 2013 365 Challenge #38

Not the roundabout but you get the idea

[Apologies for the repeat post and the lack of Claire instalment in the first one: see below!]

I got told off by a random stranger today. The worst part was it was entirely justified. Don’t you hate that? He’d paid for his daughter to go on one of these £1 rides you get in supermarkets, the same one my kids had just been on and my son had demanded “more more”. The ride has three seats so, without thinking, I whisked Aaron over and plonked him on one of the spare seats.

I’d never do that normally without asking the person whose pound has paid for the ride (even though I love it when people come and let their kids ride for free on my pound. The more the merrier).

When it had finished the Dad turned on me and told me how rude I was. I got defensive, lord knows why, because he was absolutely right. I apologised but it was too late, I’d lost some goodwill and was left feeling wretched for the rest of the day.

The irony of course is that I’m trying to teach my daughter not to be so sensitive to being told off. If I so much as ask her to sit still at the table too often she runs off sobbing (particularly if she knows she’s in the wrong.) How can I teach her not to take things to heart so much when I’m even worse?

I tell you, if I had possessed any tiny notion of how hard this parenting lark would be I would have remained single and celibate for the rest of my days. And here’s me, planning on changing Claire’s mind from being a child-dreader to someone who wants to be a parent. Don’t do it Claire, keep your independence and your sanity! 🙂

As I wrote this, a notification popped up in my Facebook account that my sister had shared a blog post: 10 Facts on Motherhood. The post is so spot on relevant to my day that I had to share it.

Apologies to anyone who got this post without the Claire attachment: I went to the coffee shop after dropping off the kids to finish off the post but couldn’t get on the internet. I have resubmitted the post with the Claire section included. I knew that auto-schedule was going to bite me one day.

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“Hey Claire, how’s it going?”

“Kim, great to hear from you.” Claire settled into the corner of the faded sofa, ready for a long chat with her oldest friend.

“How is your Have Helly Hansens Will Travel life going?” Her voice sparkled like sunlight on the sea. “When did you last shave your legs?”

Claire’s shout of laughter caused a couple fiercely focused on their Scrabble game to look up momentarily. She smiled apologetically at them and laughed again more quietly. “This morning, actually. Our room is en-suite and Josh left as soon as we checked in to go stomp his teenage-angst out on the hills.”

There was a loaded pause before Kim shrieked down the phone. “Oh. My. God. Who is Josh, why are you sharing a room, where are you staying? Teenage angst? Have you shacked up with a younger man? En-suite? Don’t tell me you’ve given up already and checked into a hotel. You’ve only been gone a week. Tell me, tell me!”

Claire put the phone back to her ear as Kim finished talking and spoke thoughtfully. “Has it really only been a week?” She tried to count back to her arrival in Berwick but realised she wasn’t completely sure what day of the week it was. “Is it Friday today?”

“No, it’s Saturday, and you’re evading the question.”

“Which one?” Claire chuckled.

“All of them.”

Claire paused, letting her friend stew in her conjecture a little while longer before letting out a giggle. “Your ability to jump to the furthest conclusion is astounding. I’m staying at Ninebanks, a lovely hostel somewhere between Newcastle and Carlisle. Josh is an Aussie guy I met in the Kielder youth hostel who is travelling along with me for a while because I have a car. He is probably my age but is currently acting like he’s twelve. It appears most YHA hostel rooms are en-suite and has it really only been a week? It feels like a month.”

“Phew, thanks for the update. You had me worried. So, are you enjoying it then? You sound very relaxed, more than I’ve heard you sound for a long time.”

Claire was surprised at Kim’s observation. I don’t feel very relaxed. My boss is trying to hound me out, I’m sharing bunk-beds with a bloke I met two days ago and Michael keeps dangling himself tantalisingly in reach like a chilled bottle of bubbly.

She looked around the small hostel lounge, taking in the couple near the wood-burner still grappling with unknown seven-letter words. The only people who knew where she was were Josh and now Kim. It was, she decided, quite a nice feeling.

“I guess I am pretty chilled. The hardest part is deciding what to do every day. I try to have a plan but I keep getting scuppered by events outside my control. Some of the hostels aren’t open in the winter and now it turns out the lead mine isn’t either.”

“Lead mine? Seriously? Surely a diamond mine is more your style?”

“Last time I checked there weren’t too many diamond mines in Northumberland. I am working you know Kim. I need Blog Fodder every day. There are only so many things you can say about the floral duvet covers and the colour of the en-suite tiles. I’ll be damned if I’m going to shadow Josh in his current mood. Besides, I’m tired of hiking.”

“You’ve been hiking? Your idea of exercise is lifting a G&T to your lips and then working off the calories in an insane spinning class.”

“I love you too Kim.” For some reason the words, despite their truth, made Claire feel low.

“Sorry hun I wasn’t trying to be mean. I thought you prided yourself on your indoors lifestyle?”

Claire shuffled in her seat and pondered why Kim’s words made her defensive. Who am I trying to fool? Of course she’s right, I don’t fit in this world. I don’t want to fit in this world.

“Ignore me. My old life feels a long way away.” She described what she could see to her friend, trying to share some of the atmosphere of the hostel.

“It sounds great. Maybe Jeff and I should come and meet you at one of your stops. It’s about the only holiday we’ll be able to afford anytime soon.”

Claire paused as she tried to imagine Kim and Jeff in her new environment. It felt odd considering the merging of worlds, although not as strange as the idea of one of her work colleagues appearing amid all the faded furniture.

Lucky none of them would be seen dead here.

“Sure, why not. There aren’t many hostels near Cambridge but when I’m a bit further south we can see when you’re free. Anyway, tell me about Puck. How’s it all going?”

Claire settled deeper into the sofa and listened to Kim’s tales of her life treading the boards. She realised it was the first time in ages they had gossiped on the phone. Usually she was too busy working or socialising or sleeping to catch up with friends. Chuckling at Kim’s anecdotes Claire rested her head on a cushion and thought maybe she could get used to her new life.

***

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.

Daffodils, Daughters and 2013 365 Challenge #35

Early daffodils

Today started at 5.30am. Again. It seems my daughter’s internal clock has gone forward for Spring a few weeks early. I wouldn’t mind but she has taken to making sure we’re all awake by coming in to Mummy and Daddy and saying she needs help on the toilet (she doesn’t), then going in to Aaron because he’s crying (he isn’t) and thereby waking the dog who sleeps next to the baby monitor downstairs. It’s tricky because she also gets herself dressed, makes her bed and opens her curtains. Great behaviour, just not at 5.30am. And then we spend the rest of the day grumpy. She’s sobbing upstairs at the moment because we’ve had a row. She’s only four. I’m so looking forward to her teenage years.

My daughter isn’t the only one who thinks it’s Spring. I was walking the dog today and saw these daffodils. We’ve had a week of really warm weather (10C) and even though it’s back to 3 or 4C they clearly think it’s time to get up too. It’s nice to see them, it brings all the wonderful hope of Spring. I just hope it isn’t false hope – it’s only February, I’m sure there’s plenty more bad weather to come.

Claire’s novel-in-instalments has reached 30,000 words. I read some of it as I proof-read Two-Hundred Steps Home and I was pleasantly surprised that it reads quite well for a first draft. I don’t think it will ever be anything else, not least because – at this rate – it will be a 300,000 word novel by the end of the year. Who is going to want to buy that?! Still, amidst the chaos and turmoil of home at the moment, it feels good to have achieved what I have so far.

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“Hey Claire, great singing last night, how’s the hangover?”

Claire dropped her head on her hands and groaned, refusing to respond to the man who had stopped on his way past their breakfast table. He chuckled and walked on. Claire was about to raise her head when she heard more footsteps and another voice.

“Alright Josh, Claire, nice guitar playing mate. Good session. You guys off to do the wall today? Weather looks smashing.”

The voice receded and the room went quiet. Lifting her head slowly Claire peered out under one arm. “Have they all gone? Is it safe to come out?”

Josh laughed sympathetically. “Yes they’re gone, though you have no reason to hide. You were awesome.”

Claire moaned softly. “Not you too. What did I do exactly? It all goes hazy after the guy with the guitar and the bottle of whisky arrived.”

“You drank quite a lot of the whisky, mostly from the bottle, then you started dancing. Simon played accompaniment and when you kept falling over the furniture you decided to sing instead. You’ve got a nice voice you know, although the words were a bit slurred.”

“And you played guitar? I don’t remember that.”

Josh shrugged. “Well you were mostly asleep on Steve’s shoulder at that point.”

“Oh God, who is Steve?” Claire covered her face with her palms and peeked at Josh through splayed fingers.

“The guy who just said g’day to you.”

Claire dropped her head again. “Tell me nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Josh said, a bit too quickly.

Claire looked up. “Now say it like it’s true.”

“Well I can’t swear to that. I was making Lucy’s acquaintance.”

“Which one was she?”

“The red head with the stray curls.”

Claire shook her head. This wasn’t going to be blog material. The sooner the night was forgotten the better.

“So are we walking the wall today or are you ticking this box as done and moving on?” Josh’s tone was neutral as he finished the last of his breakfast.

Claire considered the opportunity to escape and leave Josh and their jamming session behind. She looked out the window. Blue skies and scudding clouds beckoned her out to blow away the hangover.

“What wall?”

“Hadrian’s Wall.”

“Yes?”

“Oh come on, I’m not even from this country and I’ve heard of Hadrian’s Wall.”

“Who the hell is Hadrian, why’s he important?”

“Ah well there you have me. But I read a leaflet that says there’s an 8-mile walk from here that goes via a museum. Maybe we can go learn together.”

“Why would I want to learn about it from a museum when I can Google it?”

“That’s just data. Someone else’s view. You can’t live life vicariously, you have to stomp in it and get your boots muddy. Think of it as Blog Fodder. No one’s going to read your blog if you move on from every place as soon as you arrive.”

“I don’t care if anyone reads it. The fewer people the better.”

“You don’t mean that or you wouldn’t have had me read it in the car in the dark.” Claire flushed but Josh didn’t notice. He was waving his spoon around to emphasise the points he was making. “Besides I thought this was your job? Likes and follows are paying your wages. You strike me as a hard-working chick. Put some effort in!”

“What are you, some kind of motivational guru?” Josh turned at her words and gave Claire a strange look, almost a glare. Then he laughed. The sound struck Claire as forced and false.

“That’s me, Mr Get-up-and-go. Now get your sweet arse into some hiking gear and meet me at reception before it starts raining.” He pushed away from the table and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Claire realised she sounded like a wife and blushed. “Never mind. I’ll see you soon. Do we need to take lunch?”

“I’ll find out, I just have something to do first.” Josh raised his hand in a half-wave and disappeared in the direction of the internet access without looking back.

***

Daffodils – One of the First Flowers of Spring (proflowers.com)
Daffodils…Just In Time (putneyfarm.com)
Daffodils, Scarf and The Harbour at Night (and a Blogger Challenge) (mybeautfulthings.wordpress.com)

Cat, Tiger and Craft Book: 2013 365 Challenge #34

Amber's photo book and the one I made so Aaron wouldn't feel left out

Amber’s photo book and the one I made for Aaron

Family day today.

Had to write post #33 this morning as I was too tired and poorly last night, which nearly made us late for a birthday party (that and husband couldn’t get out of bed!). I’ve got behind on the daily blogging and am having to write too many of the posts with the kids awake. Must use the next nursery day I get to catch up as it’s impossible to write these posts with the kids yelling at me. (Plus the guilt is all-consuming!)

Parties are always touchy things – they can be overwhelming events and this one was no different. It was at an indoor play area (the kind with ball pits, crawling tunnels and slides).It’s the sort with two levels and Amber got upset if she couldn’t see a parent easily.

Thankfully husband and son came too so we took it in turns to go crawling around after the kids. Okay so I mostly chatted with the Mummies while Daddy did the crawling but that was only fair as I took them to an indoor play centre yesterday and spent three hours like a hamster in a cage.There was also a face painter which is such a great idea. My kids love having their faces painted.

Amber’s Photo Journal Glitter-fest

This afternoon we did one of Amber’s birthday gifts – a “make my own book” craft kit. I wasn’t looking forward to it because I’m a perfectionist so it’s tough watching her cover everything in glitter and stickers.

I spent the time printing out photographs and putting double-sided sticky tape on the back of them while trying to ignore the glitter-fest. I do get told off for taking over and sticking things straight but there’s always a fine-line between letting the kids do everything themselves and helping them create something they’re proud of and will continue to be proud of.

Amber as a cat

This evening was all about Rattle. Rattle is Amber’s comforter – a tatty, much loved teddy that someone gave me after they won it in a tombola and saw me with my baby bump. We used to have two (I tracked down a spare on ebay in the US when I realised how important it was becoming) but Rattle2 “went on an adventure” a year or so ago. We tracked another one down in the US recently and had it shipped to my sister. Unfortunately “new Rattle” has been rejected for, well, being too new.

Aaron as a tiger

Four years of love has made the original Rattle grubby, lumpy and chewed.

Anyway at bedtime this evening we realised Rattle had been left at the indoor play area. They were still open so we rang in a panic and they couldn’t find him. A very sad girl sat hugging New Rattle and sobbing. Thankfully I thought to text the party girl’s mummy and she had picked it up. Better still her wonderful husband drove the dozen miles over to our house to drop him off. Hurrah, child can sleep.

Right, time to think up a new adventure for Claire. I wonder what will happen today. I honestly have no idea until the point at which I open the Word document and start typing.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

“Bagsy I get the bottom bunk; I rather fancy you on top.” Josh’s laughter rang round the small room as Claire glared at him and wrapped her arms around her midriff.

“It’s bad enough that you talked me into sharing a room with you. I can do without the suggestive comments. Don’t push me or I’ll go to reception and move to a dorm. Then you can pay for this whole room by yourself.”

“Surely you’d rather share with just me than a room full of chicks you’ve never met? They might snore.”

“You might snore for all I know. Besides I’ve learned my lesson on that one, I have ear plugs. And don’t think about trying anything either. I’m not interested in a travelling romance. If I hear you climbing that ladder in the night I’ll stick a pin in you.”

“Don’t get your pants twisted Claire I’m a perfect gent. I don’t pursue where I’m not welcome.” He said the words with a glint and Claire was conscious of a warm flush rising up her neck. Ignoring the betrayal of her body Claire dug through her rucksack to retrieve her night-dress and wash bag.

“Nice nighty.”

Claire couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re outrageous. Right, what now?”

“Now we explore.”

It didn’t take long to discover that the hostel had no hidden delights, apart from a little corridor conservatory along from the lounge which was probably lovely in the summer. The whole place felt in need of a refresh, particularly after some of the places Claire had stayed in already. It was like visiting her Gran’s house, before she died. At least it doesn’t smell of boiled cabbage.

“What do people do when they’re hostelling?” Claire sat on the edge of her chair and looked with puzzlement at Josh’s sprawled form.

“Whatever they want. Read, listen to music, chat, meet new people. If you’re lucky someone will start jamming.”

“Jamming?”

“You know, playing the guitar, singing.”

“Oh god, really? How awful.”

It was Josh’s turn to look perplexed. “What did you do to relax when you were at home Claire?”

Claire gave the question some thought. “I didn’t. I was either at work or out.”

“Where did you go out then? You must have had some fun.”

“Oh yes.” She thought about nights drinking with her friends. And then she remembered Susannah’s comments at her leaving party and wondered if they were really friends or just colleagues who bitched about her behind her back. Images of Sunday morning brunches with Michael, and walking in the park to let the wind blow away their hangovers, besieged her brain. They were unwelcome memories and she shoved them away.

“That’s different, though,” Claire continued. “That’s at home with friends and access to a decent wardrobe. What do you do with a sack full of unwashed clothes and no one to party with?”

“You don’t need clothes to party.”

Claire sniggered, drawing a ready grin from Josh. “I didn’t mean it like that but, yes, that’s one way to party. What I meant was you don’t need to dress up to have fun.”

Claire raised an eyebrow at Josh’s stained clothes, muddy trainers and unkempt hair. He wouldn’t even be allowed in to Tiger Tiger.

If Josh was aware of Claire’s critical scrutiny he didn’t show it. Instead he swung his legs down from the arm of the chair and sat forward, making eye contact. “I asked at reception when we checked in, apparently there’s a pub next door that does a bonzer steak pie. Come with me, we’ll have some nosh and I’ll show you how to be social when you’re on the road.”

Claire looked down at her travel-creased clothing and pulled at her greasy hair. “I could really use a shower and a change of clothes.”

“No, you come as you are. Most of the people in there will have been hiking Hadrian’s Wall all day. There won’t be any glamour, you’ll fit right in.”

Unsure how to take his last comment, Claire grabbed her purse and followed Josh out the door.

If nothing else it will be content for the blog. We’re only going to eat a meal and chat with some people, I used to do that all the time at work. How different can it be?

***

Inadequate mummy syndrome part two! (suffolkbianca.wordpress.com)

Kindle Delight and 2013 365 Challenge #33

My book on kindle (front cover needs some work)

I finally published something on Kindle! Okay it’s only the same stuff as is available here on the blog, but I still got to go through the self-publishing process at last. It was surprisingly easy although I haven’t proof-read the final product properly yet and I need to tweak the front cover. (I changed the dimensions of the front cover in ten minutes on the PC this morning while up to the eyeballs in cold and it doesn’t look right – I think I have the height to width ratio wrong).

The best bit was watching my husband type my name into Amazon and find my book. Worryingly, over on Goodreads, it seems I have written several other books including one about ancient egypt (!) so I need to investigate that some more. As I don’t intend to promote this book except as a tool on the blog for people to catch up, it can probably wait.

Next priority (apart from writing Claire’s next exploit) is to get this first volume onto Smashwords so I can offer it for free. I did Kindle because I thought I could offer it for free that way – I should have read the small print. You can only offer books free on Kindle through their Select programme (5 days free every 3 months I think it is) and then you can’t offer it anywhere else in any format. I thought they may not like that all the content is freely available on the blog so couldn’t sign up to that.

Unfortunately, having had a sneaky peak at the style guide for Smashwords I think I’ve got some reformatting work to do to get it right. I have to say formatting for Kindle, once I’d worked out what I wanted to do, was actually pretty simple. I had to take my 3AD Publishing logo out because that didn’t look right but other than that it seems to be doing what it needs to do. I’m just sorry that it’s not free. 77p or $0.99 isn’t a lot of money but then 27k words of first draft isn’t a lot of book!

This weekend will mostly be survival as husband now has the awful cold too. We have a couple of kids parties to go to and have promised our daughter we will take her swimming on Sunday so she can try out the “it really swims” doll grandma and grandpa bought her for her birthday. That should nicely fill the time until Monday (and how lovely is it that, for the first time in my life, I’m looking forward to getting to work on a Monday morning!)

Now, where did I leave Claire…

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

“God I’m so sorry.” Claire flushed as she grabbed Josh’s knee instead of the gear stick for the second time.

“No worries.”

Even in the dark she could sense his lewd grin. Blood flushed to her face and she turned to concentrate on the road ahead. She was still searching her whirling brain for a safe topic of conversation when Josh spoke again.

“Claire?”

The serious tone made her glance towards him, trying to see his expression in the dark. She couldn’t and had to twist her head back quickly to concentrate on avoiding an on-coming lorry.

“Yes?”

“Can I read your blog?”

Whatever Claire had thought Josh was going to say that wasn’t it.

“Oh. Sure of course if you want to. You can read it now if you like, there’s not exactly much going on out the window.” It was dusk and the weak Skoda headlights were picking out only the road ahead. The sky was a beautiful deep blue behind them but ahead a mass of storm clouds loomed on the horizon. Claire reached behind her and retrieved her iPad from the pocket of the rucksack.

“Go to the notes section, you’ll see the drafts there.” It could probably wait until they got to the hostel but Claire was eager for a second opinion. So far there had been no likes or comments on her posts and only a few visits. She knew she wasn’t trying as hard as she could to engage on Twitter and Facebook but she was still a little disappointed there wasn’t more response.

Josh stared at the black rectangle in front of him as if it was alien technology. “Um, how do I turn it on?”

Claire held back a laugh. I guess iPads don’t come your way every day when you’re on the road all the time. She conveniently forgot that, until Michael had given this one to her for Christmas, she hadn’t known how to turn one on either. She reached over in the dark, careful to touch only the iPad, pressed the button then swiped the screen. She described the icon he needed to tap and eventually he was immersed in her writing.

The breath seemed to stick in Claire’s throat as she listened to the silence. Eventually, after far longer than it should have taken to read a few thousand words, Josh raised his head and gazed out the window.

“Well?”

“Very informative.” Josh’s voice fell leaden into the waiting silence.

“You don’t like them?” Claire fought an unexpected desire to weep.

“There’s nothing to like or not like. It reads like a website.”

“Well, that’s what it’s meant to be.” Claire could hear her voice rising in the dark and fought to keep it level. “The brief was to write about the YHA’s 200 hostels and how they promote a healthy lifestyle. So that’s what I’ve done. All the information is there.”

“Yes, information. That’s the word. It’s just information. There’s no heart.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“How many followers have you got? How many likes? I know this is the first week but how many people have visited your page?”

Claire found herself surprised at Josh’s knowledge of blogging terminology. She couldn’t find any words to respond.

“I’m sorry, I’ve offended you.” Josh’s voice was soft.

“No,” Claire forced out a laugh. “It takes more than that to offend me. I’m sorry you don’t like it.”

“It’s not that. I think what you’re doing is amazing. I write a blog for the folks back home when I get near a computer and it’s tough thinking of what to write. And it’s not my job.”

That explains how he knows more than I do. She found herself wanting to read his blog, to read about his life on the road.

“Maybe you could guest post on my blog, share your experience of travelling?”

“I can. But this is your blog. You need to write your story. People can go to the YHA website to find out opening times and local attractions. People want colour and texture. Write about hiking the Pennines in the snow. Write about falling off your bike and trashing your trousers. Talk about picking up hitchhikers and seeing the stars.”

“I’m not sure that’s what Coca Cola really want.” And I don’t want the world sharing my humiliations thank you very much.

“Bollocks. They want advertising. That’s all they want. They don’t care how they get it.”

“They will if it portrays their brand in a negative way.”

Josh laughed. “How is it negative that a girl from the city who hadn’t ridden a bike since she was a kid felt so alive the first time she freewheeled down a hillside that she thought she could fly?” There was something in his voice that Claire couldn’t quite place. It made her feel like melted marshmallow in a mug of hot chocolate.

She thought about sharing that part of her adventure on the blog. I guess it can’t do any harm. What does it matter if I humiliate myself? It isn’t my name on the blog anyway and no one I know is going to read it. Especially not Michael. She shook her head at the traitorous words. Michael, will you sod off out of my mind. It’s over and that’s the end of it.

Claire looked out the window as the Sat Nav warned her she was nearing her destination. All she could see was a square of tarmac on the side of the road and some buildings set back behind a line of trees.

“Looks like we’re here.”

She pulled into the car park, glad to have an excuse to finish the conversation. They dragged their bags from the back seat and went in together to check in. All Claire wanted to do was find a quiet corner, get out her iPad, and write.

***

Review: How to Format your eBook for Kindle, NOOK, Smashwords, and Everything Else (teleread.com)
How to self-publish an e-book (reviews.cnet.com)

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!)

________________________________________________________________________________________________

“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)

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!

_________________________________________________________________________________________

“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.

***

Snowy, crafty day and 2013 365 Day #20

The Great Hall, Oundle School, in the snow

We’ve had a glorious family day today.

The kids got dragged around the job centre and supermarket yesterday so we promised them a new magazine, a trip to the coffee shop in Oundle, our local town, and sledging at grandma’s today.

And that’s what we did.

I have been cutting, sticking and colouring for about three hours this afternoon and I put a much happier little girl to bed tonight than last night.

Great fun magazine cutting, sticking and drawing. My little girl enjoyed it too…

I love how kids live in the present and don’t hold grudges. You get back what you put in, then and there. Wonderful.

Unfortunately I also got another rejection email today. A really nice one from Julia Churchill:

Thank you for giving us a chance with this. I’m sorry to say I don’t think it’s one for me.

While this has some nice points, when I take a new writer on I need to feel such a high level of conviction that I could sell their work, and I’m afraid I’m not quite there with this. Of course, it’s a really subjective business. Another agent may well feel differently.

Wishing you the best of luck with it, and a good 2013.

Sledging family fun. No hills round us so more pushing than sledging…

How lovely is that? As rejections go it actually left me smiling. Unfortunately I really liked the sound of the agency Julia works for, so I was disappointed.

What I take away from it though is that I really need to work on my query letter and/or synopsis for Dragon Wraiths. The response came back so swiftly I can’t help but think it was rejected off the cover letter. I have struggled to sell the story in limited words because it’s a four-part novel and it’s difficult to encapsulate it all in one or two paragraphs.

Cutting and sticking. Very theraputic, although not as much as colouring-in.

My husband still thinks I should self-publish Dragon Wraiths but I am reluctant. The more I read about self-publishing the more I’m not sure it’s for me. I really do need help in selling myself and my work and I can’t afford to hire an editior.

I would take a punt on Dragon Wraiths if it was easy to get it kindle-ready but unfortunately I have four different fonts in the novel that are essential to understanding the story and my kindle software changes them all to one font! (Unlike bloomin Microsoft Word which has decided to change my novel document into about four different fonts when I copy it over to WordPress. I’ve had to retype the whole of today’s post while listening to my husband snoring upstairs. Not happy!!)

Anyway I haven’t had any time to do research today so not sure what Claire is going to be getting up to. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open already and my darling husband is cooking dinner while I tap away… I think I might chuck her out into Berwick and see what she finds.

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So, this is the northernmost town in England? Whoop-di-do. Claire looked around the high-street and sighed. There isn’t even a bloody Starbucks. Caffé Nero just isn’t the same.

Claire had gone back to her room after breakfast to type up the notes on her interview with Hattie. She’d been determined to spend the day in her room playing on the iPad, but the greyness had closed in until she was driven out to seek colour and coffee.

Before she left the hostel, Claire did a quick search on interesting information about Berwick. Her research threw up thrilling facts like Berwick meant Barley Farm. That seems about right. Stupid hick town. I wonder why Scotland wants it back?

Claire decided to explore Berwick in an attempt to discover what made people think hostelling was so amazing. As yet nothing had cropped up to recommend it. Her idea of a vacation was to bake on a beach and read airport-purchased paperbacks. She always did some sight-seeing but it was the normal tick-box stuff: pyramids, opera houses, mountains. As far as she could tell Berwick’s best offering was a few boring bridges.

What do Backpackers do all day? They can’t shop; they have no money. There’s no Sky in a hostel, internet is only available at £3 an hour unless you have a smartphone and what penniless student can afford one of those? How many times can you wander round places staring at the architecture?

After two hours of exploring Claire’s feet were throbbing, her back ached and her brain was numb. What am I going to tweet about? The number of arches in the Royal Border Bridge?

She remembered Hattie recommending a trip to some Priory on a nearby island that apparently was accessible by car at low tide. The old woman had raved about it so much Claire had almost been tempted until she’d checked it out on Wikipedia. It looked like a pile of old rock. She had never heard of Lindisfarne, and doubted anyone she knew had, so it didn’t count as a tick-box visit.

Spying a bookshop, Claire decided the best thing she could do was plan her route and get through it as swiftly as possible. I wonder if I can stay in more than one hostel at a time? The wind whipped round her as she crossed the street and ducked into the store. She paused beneath the warmth of the heater while thoughts churned in her mind. The brief didn’t say anything about having to actually spend the night. Maybe I could check in, make a cup of Earl Grey in the kitchen, and move on. Cheered by the thought Claire scoured the shelves for a map of Britain. She needed to plot all the hostels and work out the shortest possible distance to drive around them all.

In the back of her mind a nagging feeling tore at Claire’s new resolve. No matter how much she loathed Carl it was not in her nature to shirk a responsibility or put in a half-hearted effort. The happy feeling seeped away like a wave on the sand. I am going to have to do this properly or not at all. Not for them but for me, for my professional pride. Damn.

On the shelf near the maps Claire saw the colourful spine of a Lonely Planet guide to Britain. She grabbed it and took her finds to the till. The sky seemed a little more grey as Claire hobbled back to the hostel on blistered feet.

Claire spent the afternoon in the Bistro cross-referencing the YHA hostel guide, the Lonely Planet book and the map. When she finally collapsed into bed at 9.30pm she was almost smiling. At least I know where I’m going tomorrow. Well I know what it’s called anyway. I wonder what Wooler has to offer.

She was about to close her eyes when her mobile phone beeped. Two thoughts went through her head like lightning. Ruth’s got her results back, and Carl is texting to gloat. Reaching for her phone without turning on the light Claire held the screen up to her sleep-blurred eyes. She blinked until the words came into focus.

Hey Claire. How are things? I miss you. Can we talk? Michael.

Claire’s heart thudded beneath her cotton nightie – bought for dorm-sharing days. What the hell does he want? She tried to think dispassionately about Michael but couldn’t manage it. Instead her mind filled with the look of pain in his deep brown eyes the last time she saw him. As if she had reached around during an embrace, stabbed him in the back and yelled, “Speak hands for me!”

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