Inspired by the current BBC specials on Stargazing (Stargazing Live), I dipped into the Angelfeet Archive to find a beautiful moon picture. It was taken in June last year, from my doorstep (opportunist or lazy, you decide).
Gosh, this was a hard one in The Head’s Office 100 Word Challenge this week. In previous weeks, participants have been given a phrase or picture as a prompt for our writing. This week, Julia has given us 5 beautiful words, selected from this list.
They are Ripple Brood Evocative Lilt Untoward.
So here’s my submission for this week:
“There was nothing untoward,” I continued, then cursed at my choice of words, as the girl’s accusing eyes narrowed further.
“Leave my fella alone. Go back to your neck of the woods and get your own.” The scene was evocative of a bad soap opera; despite the situation, I smiled.
This morning, though, I couldn’t help but brood over the incident at the pub. The soft lilt of her accent had reminded me how distant I was from my own home.
I sighed, smoothed out the ripple in the bed sheet, floated the clean duvet over the top, and moved onto the next guest’s room.
I missed out on last week’s 100 Word Challenge, posed by Julia of The Head’s Office. This week the prompt is Their cries were heard . .
She hurried down to the edge, to where the sea meets the land. If only she’d been able to get away from Mrs Ellwood sooner. Simon had said he could only wait until the tide turned – after that he would have to leave, out into the North Sea, away from this place. She peered into the fading light and wondered if the speck of darkness on the horizon was his boat.
She looked up at the cliffs, to the gulls swooping overhead. Their cries were heard across the bay. If only they could carry her words to Simon. “Come back! Come back for me!”
One of the things I have been doing in my absence from this blog (hello, waves, remember me?) is a recently started Open University course. I’m trying to broaden my options and so signed up for an Openings unit (one of those courses that are gentle entrances into more challenging units).
As part of the course, I’ve had to write a 1000 word essay. Easy. And hard. Easy, because you can only put so much in. And hard, because you can only put so much in. I went over the 10% plus allowance on the word count. I just couldn’t get it down any more.
I enjoyed the writing though. I always forget how much I enjoy writing. I don’t know why I don’t it more often.
That word count restriction was obviously still buzzing in my veins when I stumbled across Julia’s challenge. I don’t visit Julia’s blog as often as I’d like to, so luck was with me today.
So here’s my 100 Word Challenge
It’s the perfect job. I know I can do it, even though I’ve never worked in a library. I could nail the application and if I’m focused and do a bit of homework, I could nail the interview too.
I’ve never felt so sure about something like this before. Where did this certainty come from? Is it just age or has there been a tipping point in my life where everything is so much clearer.
That job is my job.
The only trouble is it’s in north north London, ninety minutes travelling each way and the fares are crippling.
What does it always happen that way?
We have reached the end of part 1, the part where the new units and appliances are in, and everything works. We can start moving things back into cupboards and stocking the updated freezer, as well as having a good old clear out of all those items that we put into storage that clearly we don’t use anyway.
Did you want to see a picture? No, I didn’t think you did.
Of course part 2 includes making good the walls and applying a suitable surface (which will be probably be tiles – more choices to be made), sorting out the lighting and the floor (decisions), some decorating, and waiting for the permanent worksurfaces to be installed (we have temporary ones at the mo).
The windows that should have been put in during February, before the kitchen installation started, will go in on Monday (hopefully). There was a misunderstanding in which the fitter thought we meant middle of March when we said the end of February. Hmmmm. We’re lucky that the surfaces are temporary ones, but there will be instant and sudden death if the sink is harmed in any way during the window fitting.
I love my new sink. It was hand-picked from hundreds after intensive auditions.
Still not interested in photos? Oh well.
So windows, walls, lights, tiles, paint, floor, granite.
Ok then. Pictures.
It will look faberoony when the walls are done and we have the permanent worktops. in the meantime, I can’t wait to have our first meal prepared in our new kitchen. So excited! What shall we have?
We moved on from rubble to sawdust, as the rather fabulously laid-back fitter assembles the units.
I got rather over-excited by the prospect of being able to move around slightly move freely in the living/dining room, where the flat-packed units have been stored for the last week and a bit. “Look, I can walk though here. And I can walk back again.” A bit like Eeyore putting his damp rag of a burst balloon, a birthday gift given by Piglet, into the empty pot gifted by Pooh, and then taking it out again. And then putting it in, and then out again.*
And look! Shiny! And useful.
Can’t wait to bake.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
* In A. A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh, Eeyore has a birthday. Once Pooh discovers that no-one was aware of the momentous day, he rushes home to fetch a gift. The gift he chooses is, of course, is a pot of honey, the contents of which somehow get eaten before it reaches Eeyore. Piglet’s present, a red balloon, cushions Piglet as he trips in his hurry to deliver the present, and it bursts. Both of the kind-hearted, but slightly foolish creatures are mortified that their presents are flawed. However, Eeyore loves both the Useful Pot and the balloon that will fit into it.
Oh, it’s much better when you read it yourself. Beg, steal or borrow a copy of the original.